#anyways. heat induced rage GO!

[nightmare8-420]

it is goddamn near 1 what the FUCK DO YOU MEAN 25°?????

[fushitoru]

worth the wait a nerdjo fic

pairing ⸺ nerd/academic rival/rich boy!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you abhor your academic rival, satoru gojo. he's a cocky asshole that you fight with constantly for the spot at first place. but when you finally discover what's underneath all those lame sweaters of his with a once in a blue moon visit at the gym (spoiler alert: he's not a scrawny nerd), you'll be fighting your severe attraction to the man who makes your life a bit harder. and maybe fall in love with him, too, in the process.

warnings ⸺ smut, f recieving oral, praise, he makes you beg for it lol, p i v sex, making out, angst if you squint, a lot of fluff, college AU, nerd!gojo, reader gets insecure sometimes and is treated horribly by her discord mod TA/research advisor, typical misogyny/sexism in STEM fields, but gojo defends her!!!, sleeper build gojo with a happy trail because im a slut, the good old pining and yearning i like. art by @/deltapork

a/n thank u to all my beta readers for editing part of this for me :3 happy valentines day!!!

general masterlist

You blink at your paper.

98.

You suppose you should be happy—it’s a graduate level physics class, anyways. For a moment, you stare at the red markings of the TA that graded it, as if willing an error in the one problem you made a mistake on could make it go away. 

2+2=5.

You exhaled sharply, almost fighting back tears. You’d think you could avoid simple arithmetic mistakes, but apparently doing tensor products comes easier than simple addition to you. Shoving your backpack on your chair, you stuff in your laptop and the test haphazardly, not caring that it’s going to get messed and crumpled up in your backpack after your folders and binders jostle around. Fuck that test.

You wouldn’t normally act as if the test had personally wronged you—trust, you were not going to get that heated were it any class. But because of this one class, one person, you knew it was coming. The inevitable.

"Better luck next time." The voice, drenched in smug satisfaction, slithered through the air behind you, his voice and demeanor like a slimy, slimy snake. 

Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned around. And there he was—Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, a plague upon your academic record, a walking, talking statistical anomaly who somehow managed to be both infuriatingly brilliant and aggressively insufferable.

He leaned against the desk beside yours, glasses sliding down just enough to reveal the glint of those ridiculously blue eyes. He crosses his arms while they’re covered in that ridiculous, ugly sweater he’s wearing—he’s probably going for the old money aesthetic, but he doesn’t need to know he gives off more “finance bro that helps billionaires evade taxes,” or whatever finance bros do.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you sniff, pretending to act nonchalant while you grab your backpack, swinging it roughly on your shoulder like it was the weight of your grievances against him.

"The test." Gojo unfolded a crisp sheet of paper with the kind of theatrical flourish reserved for revealing royal decrees. A perfect 100, circled in bold red ink.

Your stomach twisted. This is what those two points meant. Two stupid, meaningless, soul-crushing, rage-inducing points.

"Guess that makes it… what, five to three this semester?" He tapped his chin, pretending to count, as if the score wasn’t already seared into your brain like an irreversible branding. "My lead, obviously. But hey, if you ever need tutoring, I could always squeeze you in."

You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration. “I wouldn’t want to impose on the time for any of your hobbies. After all, when will you get the time to watch anime? My 5000 Year Old Girlfriend is Stuck in a Twelve Year Old’s Body, was it?”

He presses a hand to his chest in mock hurt, as if your words had truly pierced him through his chest. “Tut, tut. After all this time, I’d think you’d have my anime preferences memorized since you’re so obsessed with me. It’s Digimon, not whatever pedophilic shit you think I jerk off too.” He pauses, and then his voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. “But you know Fred, the grad student TA that holds recitation every Wednesday? I just know he’s probably a Discord mod of a server that sends, like, daily tentacle porn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the Megan's law registry either.”

Now, you have to hold back your smile because Gojo has a point. Fred is not just any TA. Fred is the grad student that mentors you on a research project; the program’s super selective, so when you realized you got him, you couldn’t just back out and give up the opportunity. However, Fred isn’t just a weird–-he’s sooo handsy with his greasy ass hands, so you accept any and all Fred slander. Because he’s your research advisor, you can’t wait to finish the project any faster. He probably would be into underage girls, but you don’t need to express your approval to Gojo, or worst of all, let him think he’s funny. God knows that would get into his head. “Yea, yea. Whatever. Anyways, I hope you have fun with your Pokemon—”

“Digimon.”

“—or whatever. I’m leaving. Some of us have things to do. Later, Gojo.”

You turned on your heel, lest Gojo hook you in with another taunt. 

Maybe you needed to blow off some steam, if you’re allowing yourself to lose to Gojo. 

Worst of all, it’s become a streak, like two times in a row—one on this quiz, and the other on the midterm a few weeks back. Your mind goes back to the last women in STEM recruiting event you had went to, and, how, in the middle of taking a bite of the delicious margherita pizza they offered, you registered that the woman in the panel had insisted that what helped her power through her PhD and dickwad supervisors was by exercising. Her fervor over pilates could almost qualify as a cult pitch, but it made you pause at the moment. Before you continued to further engorge yourself on the food offered on the charcuterie board. 

But maybe it was time to hone your focus in, and some sweaty endorphins might help you get just that. 

You’re not really surprised the demographic at your university’s gym looks like the way it does. After all, not only was it renowned for its academics (from all the nepo babies like Gojo whose families donated buildings and had like four generations of alumnus), but it was also a Division I school. So not only was the gym packed but it was packed with men.

As you walked in the hallway towards the room that contained weight machines, gym bag slung over your shoulder, you eyed the glistening backs of the (D1, mind you) men’s swim team through the glass that separated your path and the swimming pool. 

Wow, those Speedos really hugged their asses. You imagined Gojo in one, and almost snorted. Rich boy nerd Satoru definitely didn’t  learn how to swim; his family’s mansion probably had a twenty year old personal lifeguard that Gojo lost his virginity to, or something. Regardless, he would squint in his silly swim goggles, the exact antithesis of sex appeal while his glow-in-the-dark eyes lit up the pool while he stroked, cheeks puffed like a pufferfish.

Regardless, the smell of testosterone that hits you when you enter the weight area is almost nauseating, and, if you’re honest, a little intimidating. You’re not exactly the fittest of people, so you quickly speed walk past the grunting and sweaty men at the squat machines and barbells, avoiding eye contact and praying furiously that none of them perceive you.

 When you reach the dumbbell stands, you hunch over, taking random light weights. Then, you pretend you know what you’re doing while jumping every so slightly whenever anyone comes in six foot distance of you. It’s only when another girl comes in to grab a weight (and when she bends over, you definitely ogle her ass in a way that would get you slapped if you were a man) that your gaze removes itself from where it was focused on the 2.5 lb dumbbell you were previously bicep curling with. To see him.

The glint of ivory hair is unmistakable—you’ve basically gotten off to the fantasy of razoring it off in his sleep. His blue eyes are bored, pretty boy face framed in glasses. Now, he’s giving teenage boy turned to Andrew Tate after a breakup. Black sweatshirt and sweatpants that are too small, because they cling to his legs in a form-defining way. He’s walking over, hands in his pockets, to a barbell station. Slaps some guys on the shoulder as he goes through, gets a lot of daps. 

Which is weird to you, because you only the Gojo inside your physics class, not outside. He’s a fucking nerd—a loser that spends his time beefing with you, so why is he so popular when he gives you the time of day?

There are three dimensions to gaining alpha status, or whatever they call male popularity. You have to be 1) rich, 2) really physically fit, or 3) just really charismatic. Considering that Gojo—in all his clothing—-looks like a twink moreso than ripped gym bro, it’s definitely not dimension two. So you conclude that it’s because he’s rich and probably throws yacht parties so these ripped guys don’t push him into a locker, or something.

When he finally reaches his destination, you smirk to yourself. With that scrawny build underneath all those loose sweaters, you know he’s only going to be able to lift the bar, no plates. After all, he was warming up. insulting Gojo in countless of ways by taking jabs at his physique mentally, so you barely register that he’s grabbing for the hem of his sweatshirt, peeling it up—

To reveal his bare torso.

Your first thought: Wow, he has huge bazonkas.

That has easily got to be one of the most built physiques you’ve seen at your college so far. His pectorals basically pop out out of his torso as he moves to grab plates. First, he grabs a really big plate—you’re not a gym expert, so you wouldn’t know the weight—and stacks it. And stacks another. And another. And another, until you’re sure it’s definitely more than your bodyweight.

As you’re staring at him in awe, your 2.5 lb dumbbells hang limply by your sides, abandoning all pretense of training to openly gawk at the clench of his biceps, the sweat rolling down his temple, and the set of his jaw as he stares holes into the bar. And by the way there’s heat creeping up your cheeks you realize one thing:

You’re screwed.

“You know what?”

You keep your eyes on your notes firmly, refusing to look at Gojo sitting right next to you. You don’t know why he always chooses to sit next to you on recitation, really—it’s not like you’re receptive to his company. After all, he could be doing other things—like metaphorically sucking a TA’s dick by talking about their research, where Gojo probably knows more about the TA’s research than they do themselves. 

From your periphery, you notice Gojo pouting, then scooting his chair (dragging it, so it makes a god awful screeching noise against the floor tiles that has you cringing) until he’s so close that he slings an arm on the back of your chair and leans in closer and closer. You’re fighting to keep your eyes on your notes, face heating up traitorously until you feel his breath fan across your neck because he’s just so close.

“Rude, ignoring me. Look where that got you.” He then points to a problem on your paper, one you were currently working on. “You’re doing that wrong.”

You finally turn to glare at him, but he’s closer than you anticipated, his face just inches from yours. His grin is all sharp edges and knowing amusement, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

“I’m not doing it wrong,” you argue, despite the creeping suspicion that, okay, maybe you did mess up somewhere.

“Oh, really?” Gojo drawls, tilting his head slightly. “Then why is your integral off by a factor of two?”

Your eyes snap back to your notes, scanning through the equations—and, dammit, he’s right.

You huff, begrudgingly erasing the mistake. “Whatever.”

“You know, you should really be thanking me,” Gojo muses, still leaning way too close for comfort. “If I weren’t here, who knows how many mistakes you’d make?”

“She’d have me,” comes a greasy voice, and you have to fight the tears in your eyes that arise when Fred (the aforementioned pedophilic TA and your research advisor) comes, his moldy cheese stench following him as he takes a seat from across you and Gojo. You grudgingly turn your face away from where it was so close to Gojo’s to look at him and sigh inwardly. At least Gojo’s face was prettier to look at.

“Hi, Fred,” you smile tightly, willing him to go away. “We’re good here, so you can help out other students—”

“How was your weekend?” He instead replies, and you wince. Stealing a quick glance at Gojo, it seems that his jaw and posture are uncharacteristically tense. 

“Lot of work for the class and for, uh, our research,” you respond, nodding and averting your gaze to your paper and feigning working on a problem so that he would get the hint.

Fred, unfortunately, does not get the hint. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes too focused on you. “You really ought to take breaks, you know. You can give me the code late. Someone as cute as you shouldn’t stress so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”

Your fingers tighten around your pencil, your skin crawling at the way his tone veers into something too familiar, too patronizing. You open your mouth to give a clipped response, but Gojo beats you to it.

“Oh? Didn’t know you were an expert on skincare, Fred,” Gojo drawls, his voice deceptively light. His arm, which was still resting on the back of your chair, shifts just slightly—not quite pulling you in, but making his presence more noticeable. “Though, if we’re giving out advice, maybe you should take your own. I mean, stress must be rough on you too, right? All those late nights grading papers, staring at screens. Takes a toll.”

Fred bristles, but Gojo just smiles lazily, pushing up his glasses as he tilts his head. “Actually, you know what? Maybe we should all focus on our own business. Like, say, teaching, instead of weirdly hovering over students. Crazy thought, huh?”

You swear you see the muscle in Fred’s jaw twitch, but he forces out an awkward chuckle, shifting uncomfortably. “Right, right. Just looking out for her.”

“Don’t worry,” Gojo interrupts smoothly, now fully leaning into your space, his arm draping a little lower behind your chair, “I think she’s got plenty of people looking out for her already.” His voice is soft, but there’s an undeniable edge beneath the words.

Fred lingers for a second too long, but finally, he mutters something about helping another student and stands, walking off with an air of forced nonchalance.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, slumping slightly in your seat. Gojo hums beside you, his fingers tapping idly against the back of your chair.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he teases, but there’s something in his tone that’s softer than usual. He then makes a show of stretching, raising his arms. His sweater rides up a bit, exposing his lower abs and peeks of white that has you averting your gaze, the heat creeping up at his proximity once again. Then, his arm back on your chair. Weirdly, you find that you don’t mind it.

You sigh, resigned. You’ll figure out these feelings later. “Yeah. Thanks, Gojo.”

But you don’t immediately go back to your work, because Gojo suddenly hunches down and whispers in your ear. “Yea, I definitely saw an underage anime girl sticker on his laptop.”

Your responding snort is so loud everyone turns to look at you and Gojo, who is now sporting a mischievous and satisfied smile.

It starts with a single drop, fat and cold where it splats against your wrist. You glance up from your phone just in time to see the sky split open.

“Shit,” you mutter, stuffing your phone into your bag. The library doors shut behind you with a heavy clang, sealing away the scent of old books and the quiet hum of studying students. Outside, the air is thick with the petrichor of freshly fallen rain, and within seconds, the pavement is slick, puddles forming in the uneven cracks of the sidewalk. The streetlights reflect off the wet ground, casting fragmented golden glows against the darkening sky. You’d been studying to grind for the upcoming assignments; after all, to rival Gojo is a no small feat. It’s just unfortunate it seems to take you thousand times more effort than it does for Gojo.

“Guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

Satoru Gojo, standing beside you under the library’s narrow overhang, wearing that insufferable grin like he’s amused by the entire situation. Like the rain personally fell from the sky just to give him an opportunity to bother you.

“I’ll take my chances,” you say flatly, shifting your bag on your shoulder. But as you peer past the downpour, your stomach sinks. The rain is merciless, an unrelenting sheet of water stretching as far as you can see. There’s no way you’re making it back to your dorm without looking like you took a fully clothed shower.

Gojo hums, pulling something out of his bag. You blink when he flicks open a half-broken umbrella, the metal ribs slightly bent like it’s barely holding itself together. He gives it a little shake, sending droplets flying, before glancing at you with a smirk.

“Well?” He lifts a brow. “Wanna be smart about this?”

You do not want to be smart about this. You want to wait out the rain or make a break for it. But the storm shows no signs of letting up, and the thought of walking through it alone makes you hesitate.

Reluctantly, you sigh. “Fine. But I get most of the cover.”

“Hey, sharing is caring.” He tilts the umbrella slightly, just enough to make a point.

With great reluctance, you step closer. The moment you do, you regret it.

Gojo is warm. Even in the damp, chilled air, he radiates heat, standing so close that his sleeve brushes against yours. He smells good, too—like expensive laundry detergent with a faint undercurrent of something sweet, something distinctly him.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as the two of you start walking. The rain pounds against the umbrella, droplets cascading off the edges, and with every step, you’re hyper-aware of the way Gojo moves beside you—loose-limbed, annoyingly graceful, a stark contrast to the crooked metal above your heads.

“Man, this thing’s on its last leg,” he muses, tilting the umbrella just slightly. Water dribbles off the side, landing directly onto your shoulder.

“Gojo!” you yelp, recoiling as the cold soaks through your shirt.

“Oops.” He does not sound remotely sorry.

You glare at him, but before you can snap back, he shrugs off his jacket and—without preamble—drapes it over you.

You freeze.

It’s warm, still carrying the heat of his body, and it smells so much like him—clean, sweet, dizzyingly familiar. Your brain short-circuits.

You force yourself to breathe, keeping your gaze firmly ahead. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice tight.

“I wanted to.”

Something in his tone makes your stomach flip. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and—

Damn him. Damn him.

Water drips from his bangs, clinging to the sharp edges of his jawline, sliding down the curve of his throat. His shirt sticks to his skin, fabric clinging in a way that reveals the toned lines of his arms, the broad plane of his chest. He’s watching the rain, the usual teasing glint in his eyes softened into something contemplative.

You swear your eggs just recently got released, for you cannot help but avoid your ever going attraction to Satoru Gojo except the age-old excuse: ovulation. Your mind wanders to how his arms would feel around your head, to lay on his chest, how he’d be able to manhandle you, force you to take it—

But you’re snapped out of your inappropriate thoughts by what he says next.

“You know,” he says, voice quieter now, “I like this. Just us, no grades, no competing.”

You pause.

He says it so simply, so easily, like it’s nothing at all. But the words settle deep, curling somewhere warm inside you, and you don’t know what to do with them.

So you do what you do best: you shove them away, bury them beneath years of rivalry, of late-night study sessions fueled by caffeine and stubbornness, of sharp words and sharper glances.

You roll your eyes, forcing a scoff. “Don’t get used to it.”

But even as you say it, your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, holding it a little tighter.

It’s been a week since you saw Gojo. He had dropped you at your dorm in a surprisingly gentlemanly way, and you had insisted on returning the jacket only after washing it, to be courteous. What you didn’t mention was how you kept repeatedly smelling it in your dorm whenever you got a reprieve from your roommate’s eyes because Gojo smelled like expensive cologne and he did one thing most nerds / physics majors don’t do: shower. This fact, unfortunately, made you more attracted to him because the bar is truly in hell.

You’ve concluded that these…feelings can’t hurt you and that it isn’t real, like a beefy and shirtless Gojo-looking demon that’ll jump and surprise you from under your bed. So you move on your life, caught in the ever perpetual slog of studying and researching. 

Thus, you find yourself at the library once more.

The night hums low around you, quiet except for the occasional shuffle of paper and the distant hum of the library’s espresso machine (only librarians could use it, however. you fervently thought that was a form of elitism, but you digress). You’re at the corner table, the one by the window, where the dim light pools just enough to illuminate your notes but not enough to make you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. You think you’re alone—until you aren’t.

You don’t have to look up to know it’s him.

Satoru Gojo is hard to miss, even when he’s not trying. He slides into the chair across from you with the kind of ease that makes it seem like he belongs there, like he was always going to end up sitting across from you tonight. His hair is tousled, white strands falling forward in a way that makes him look softer under the warm light. His glasses are perched low on his nose, a rare sight given that he usually has them pushed up like some kind of pretentious scholar.

The two of you don’t speak.

It’s surprising, really. Gojo never runs out of things to say, whether it’s an obnoxious quip or some unnecessarily insightful observation that makes you want to throw your textbook at his face. But tonight, he just pulls out his own notes, taps his pen against the edge of his lips, and starts reading.

You should focus on your own studying, but something about this—this silence, this late-night haze, this tiny moment carved out of time—makes your mind wander. You steal glances when you think he won’t notice. His brows furrow when he’s concentrating, his jaw tightens when he’s stuck on something, and when he exhales, it’s this slow, measured thing, like he’s trying not to get frustrated. He’s just—

He’s just really there.

You’ve spent years defining Gojo as your rival. Your competition. The person standing in your way at every academic milestone. And yet, somehow, somewhere, he’s slipped into something else, something harder to define. Because you’ve seen him like this before—when he’s so focused that he forgets the world around him, when he bites his lip in thought, when he gets so caught up in something that he mutters under his breath without realizing it. And for the first time, it dawns on you: you don’t actually hate it.

You don’t hate this comfortable silence. This moment of peace, a white flag waving lazily between you both.

The hours blur. The café starts to empty. Your notes turn into background noise. It’s late, and the warmth from inside lulls you into something dangerously close to comfort.

A soft sound breaks through the quiet.

You glance up and freeze.

Gojo’s head has tilted to the side, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. His hand is curled loosely around his pen, and his breathing has evened out. He’s asleep.

For a moment, you don’t move. You barely breathe.

Gojo, asleep, is not something you’ve seen before. He’s always in motion, always buzzing with energy, always running his mouth about something. But right now, he’s still. His long lashes cast faint shadows over his cheekbones, and the tension he always carries—the cocky bravado, the smirking sharpness—is nowhere to be found. He just looks… peaceful.

Cutie.

What?

The thought slips in so quickly, so effortlessly, that it nearly makes you jolt. But when you look at him again—head tilted just slightly, glasses slipping down his nose, breathing slow and even—you can’t deny that the word fits. He looks like a lazy cat napping in a sunbeam, limbs loose, utterly unguarded. It’s so unlike him that you find yourself staring, caught in the contrast.

Your fingers twitch. Before you can stop yourself, you reach forward, slow and hesitant, to push his glasses back up his nose. But you catch yourself just before you touch him, as if the warmth of his skin might burn. Your hand hovers in the air for a fraction of a second too long, and then—

You pull away.

Your heart is pounding. It’s fine. It’s nothing. You just need to get out of here.

You gather your things quietly, glancing back at him one last time before slipping out the door into the cool night air. The moment you step outside, you take a breath, deep and shaking. The world feels different now. You feel different now.

Because for the first time, it isn’t just that you find Gojo attractive.

It’s that you care.

And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.

The gym, once again, smells like sweat and overpriced protein powder.

You don’t know what’s possessed you to come here today. Maybe it’s because you keep telling yourself that you need to exercise more, or maybe it’s because you need to take a break from studying before your brain melts. But deep down, if you’re really being honest with yourself, you know the real reason.

Gojo is here.

You spotted him the first time by accident. You were on the treadmill, barely jogging at a pace that wouldn’t embarrass you, when you caught a flash of white hair across the gym floor. And there he was—dressed in a fitted black sleeveless top and joggers, casually loading plates onto a barbell.

And he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

It was a stupid, inconsequential detail, but it made all the difference. Without them, he didn’t look like the annoying academic rival who constantly got under your skin, flashing his smug grin as he beat you in exams by the smallest possible margins. He looked… sharp. Unfiltered. Effortlessly attractive in a way that made your stomach tighten in ways you didn’t like.

You’d seen him in his regular clothes before, of course. You knew he had broad shoulders and long legs, that his body wasn’t just a lanky frame hidden behind layers of sweaters. But here, in the gym, watching him roll his shoulders as he prepped for another set—it hit differently. He was lean but muscular, his arms flexing as he adjusted his grip on the bar, and for some godforsaken reason, you couldn’t look away.

You shouldn’t be watching him. You should be focusing on your own workout, pretending you don’t care. But the way his shirt clung to his back, the way his forearms tensed, the way he exhaled sharply as he lifted—

You’re so screwed.

You force yourself to look away, grabbing the smallest dumbbells available and curling them in what has to be the weakest excuse for a workout imaginable. You’re barely paying attention to what you’re doing, too busy sneaking glances at Gojo between sets. It’s pathetic, but at least no one else is watching you.

Or so you think.

Because then she appears.

A girl.

Tall, toned, and effortlessly gorgeous, with sleek hair pulled into a high ponytail. She strides over to Gojo with a confidence you could never dream of and smiles at him, saying something that makes him laugh. Her ass is definitely bigger than yours, and she’s in this coordinated, cute, pink set, looking like she walked straight out of a fitness TikTok. You can’t hear what they’re talking about over the sound of weights clanking and some obnoxious EDM song blasting through the speakers, but you can see it. The way she leans in, the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way Gojo—

—smiles at her. That easy, lazy grin he always wears when he’s teasing you, except this time, it isn’t for you.

Your grip tightens around the dumbbells, something ugly curling in your chest. It gets worse when she gestures toward the squat rack, and Gojo nods before moving behind her, hands hovering just slightly as she sets up for a squat. You watch as he spots her, one hand resting lightly on her lower back, close enough to correct her form but far enough to be polite. He’s focused, watching her movements carefully, murmuring something that makes her laugh before she drops into another rep.

Your stomach twists.

This is stupid. You have no reason to be feeling this way.

It’s then that it hits you—you can have your silly little academic rival moments with Gojo, but, in the end, you’re just a footnote in his story, a fleeting challenge in a life where everything already belongs to him. He quite literally has generational wealth; he’s not going to spend his life buried in grant applications or clawing for recognition in a field that demands twice the effort for half the reward. He’ll be the one funding the research, sitting at the head of the table, making decisions that shape the future. And you? You’ll be one of the many who struggle just to be in the same room.

He’s the guy who spends his vacations on yachts or private islands—not just surrounded by wealth, but by people who belong there. Girls who glide through life with the same effortless ease as him, girls who don’t second-guess if they deserve to be in the spaces they occupy. Girls who don’t have to fight for their place at the table because it was always set for them.

Girls that are his equal—equally attractive, equally smart, equally rich.

Not you.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look away, but the image is burned into your mind. The easy way he talks to her. The way she tilts her head when she listens. The way he doesn’t even know you’re here.

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

But you do.

You grip the dumbbells tighter, exhaling sharply. Then you put them back, pick up your water bottle, and walk out of the gym before you do something stupid.

The office is too small. Too suffocating. Too filled with the weight of unspoken words and the sharp-edged smile of Fred, the TA, as he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together.

"You know," he begins, voice sickly sweet, "I really expected more from you."

You sit stiffly in the chair across from him, your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails digging crescents into your skin. Your heart pounds, but your face remains carefully neutral. You've been called into his office under the guise of "academic guidance," but you know better. You always know better.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, keeping your voice even.

Fred exhales dramatically, shaking his head. "Come on. You and I both know you're barely keeping up in this project of ours."

You grit your teeth. You're not barely keeping up. You're giving him your work at the highest level, at its best. But Fred—Fred has always had a way of twisting things, making you feel small, insignificant, like your achievements are nothing more than accidents.

“I think my progress speaks for itself,” you respond tightly. Mind you, while he was supposed to be your mentor, you’ve done 80% of the work.

But you think Gojo’s defense of you ran deep into Fred’s heart because by the way he’s sleazily smirking at you, you know he’s trying to get back at you.

He smirks. "Your progress? Sure, you’re smart. But you think that’s enough? You think anyone’s going to care about a girl like you when there are people out there who don’t have to struggle to be exceptional?" He leans forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. "You’re wasting your time. The best you can hope for is being someone’s assistant. Maybe a glorified research grunt if you’re lucky. Just like for me."

Your stomach twists. You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t care. But the words burrow deep, hitting a place inside you that already doubts, that already wonders if you’re nothing more than a temporary obstacle in a world built for people like Gojo Satoru—people born brilliant, born wealthy, born effortless.

Fred’s eyes flick over you, assessing, smug. "You’re working yourself to the bone for what? You’ll never be at the top. Not really."

The bitterness of the situation really dawns on you—Gojo’s the one who took a jab at Fred last week, not you. But you’re the one who’s left to deal with its consequences. You’re not going to assign blame and lament that it’s not Gojo in this office dealing with him. It was in your defense, after all. 

But Fred’s words remind you. You’ll never be at the top. At Gojo’s level, who’s at the top without even seeming to put in effort.

You’ll never be his equal.

You stand abruptly, shoving your chair back so hard it scrapes against the floor. "If that’s all, I have work to do."

Fred chuckles, leaning back, clearly pleased with himself. "Sure, sure. Don’t say I never tried to give you advice."

You don’t respond. You just walk out, gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white, the echo of his words following you down the hall, settling in your bones like lead.

The hallway is too bright. Too loud. Too full of people who don’t know that you’re on the verge of crumpling in on yourself like a dying star.

Your breath feels too shallow, too quick, and there’s a weight pressing down on your chest that no amount of rationalizing can shake off. It’s not even your meeting with Fred—just a slow accumulation of stress and exhaustion and frustration that’s settled deep in your bones. A grade lower than expected, an upcoming deadline you’re nowhere near prepared for, a general sense of drowning no matter how hard you try to keep up. It’s all too much, and your hands are starting to shake from how tightly you’re gripping the strap of your bag.

You just need to get out of here. You need air, space, something.

But, of course, the universe has a cruel sense of humor, because when you round the corner, you slam straight into Satoru Gojo.

“Whoa—”

Your balance is already precarious from the way you were rushing, and the impact sends you stumbling. For a split second, you think you might actually fall—your ankle twists awkwardly, the world tilts—and then there’s a strong hand gripping your wrist, another bracing against your back, steadying you before you can hit the ground.

You don’t process what happens immediately. Your mind is still stuck on too much, too fast, can’t breathe, and it takes you a second to realize that Gojo is holding you upright, his hands firm but careful, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Jeez, what’s the rush?” he teases, but his voice lacks its usual careless lilt. He’s searching your face now, eyes narrowing behind his glasses, and that’s when you realize: you must look as bad as you feel.

Shit.

You jerk away from him, a little too fast, a little too sharp. “I’m fine.”

Gojo doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? Because it kinda seemed like you were about to pass out on the spot.”

“I said I’m fine.” You adjust your bag over your shoulder, shifting your weight onto your other foot, ignoring the faint throb in your ankle. “Go bother someone else.”

Most of the time, that’s enough to send him off with an exaggerated sigh and a smirk. But not today.

Today, Gojo just stands there, watching you like he’s trying to piece something together—like you’re a problem he wants to solve. He doesn’t press, not yet, but the silence stretches, and it’s unbearable, because you can feel the weight of his gaze, and you don’t want to be seen like this. Not by him.

So you give him a tight nod in dismissal, and walk away.

There’s a knock at your door. You frown because you didn’t expect any visitors, and you’re in your sleepwear. Regardless, you pad your way lazily and open the door.

To see Gojo.

What the fuck.

He’s drenched in the glow of the hallway light, looking entirely too at home despite standing on your threshold. His hair is still slightly damp from the rain, white strands falling over his forehead in careless disarray. He’s not wearing his glasses.

"Why are you here?" you demand, gripping the doorframe, willing your voice to stay steady.

He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly. “You’re holding my jacket hostage.”

Oh. Right.

You make your way to your wardrobe, where the now-cleaned jacket hangs neatly on a hanger. Grabbing it, you hand it over to Gojo, who’s standing at your threshold while eyeing the insides of your dorm, as if trying to take in what your living space looks like. You shove it into his chest, stepping back like the heat of it burns. "Here."

Gojo takes it, but instead of leaving like a normal person, he lingers, running his fingers over the material like he’s checking for something. Then,, he lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it in that way that only makes his biceps flex, his lean muscles shifting beneath his shirt. You hate that you notice.

A beat passes.

"You know," he muses, far too casually, "you seemed a little disheveled back there."

Your stomach twists. "It's not a big deal—"

"—Bullshit." His voice cuts through yours, sharp and immediate. He shifts, stepping just the tiniest bit closer, his tone losing its usual teasing lilt. “You’re lying. I saw what you looked like. What happened?”

“It's none of your business,” you say, stiffening. “Nor is it a big deal, really.”

Gojo exhales, something heavy in the sound. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for once, they aren’t filled with their usual mirth or mischief. Just something searching, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t have the strength to deal with right now.

"You always do that," he says, softer now, but no less intense. “Act like no one’s supposed to care. Like you’re carrying the world alone.”

Your fingers curl into your palms. Your lips press together. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to acknowledge the way his words settle too close to the truth.

And then, quietly, Gojo asks, “Do you not consider me your equal?”

You swallow.

Your silence must be enough of an answer because something shifts in his expression. It isn’t anger exactly, but it’s something close—something bitter and disappointed and aching all at once.

"You’re the one who shuts me out, you know." His voice is sharp now, edged with frustration. "You act like I'm the one keeping you at a distance, but every time I try to get close, you push me away."

Your throat tightens. “Why do you even care?”

Gojo lets out a breath, his head tilting just slightly, eyes scanning your face like you’re something he’s trying to figure out. Then he laughs, quiet and humorless.

“You really don’t know?”

“I—” Your voice wavers. “What do you mean—”

“For a girl so smart, you sure do act stupid.” He steps forward then, closing the space between you just enough to make you want to back away, but your feet don’t move. His voice drops lower. "Do you think I talk to you because I give a fuck about physics?"

Your brain short-circuits. “What—”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I give zero fucks about the class or any class, trust me. I have better things to do than to try to aim for 100s on every test."

Your heart is pounding now, too loud, too fast. “Then why—”

"God," he exhales, tipping his head back, like he's debating whether or not he should even say it. Then, after a beat, he looks at you again, and whatever is in his eyes makes your stomach flip, makes your breath hitch.

Something in your chest lurches, but before you can even process it, he huffs a laugh—like he’s just remembered something ridiculous.

"You didn’t even look my way the first week," he says, eyes flicking over your face, searching. "I could tell you only cared about anyone that could challenge you. Like, it wasn’t even until I did better than you on the second midterm that you even talked to me."

You open your mouth, then close it, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Because—yeah. He’s not wrong. You had ignored him, dismissed him as just another overconfident rich kid who thought he was smarter than he was. It wasn’t until he proved himself, until he became a real obstacle in your path, that you bothered to acknowledge him.

Gojo smiles, but it’s not cocky this time—it’s small, almost rueful. "And then you looked at me like I was finally real. Like I existed."

Your breath hitches.

He shrugs, eyes dropping for a brief second before snapping back up to yours. "So, yeah. Maybe I started trying harder. Maybe I cared about all those stupid tests because it meant I got to see that fire in your eyes, that I got to be the one you were pushing against." He rubs the back of his neck, his biceps flexing in a way that would usually annoy you, but right now, you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Gojo stares at you for a long moment, gaze unwavering, like he’s daring you to say something—anything.

Your chest feels too tight, your pulse erratic, and you don’t know what to do with the way Gojo is looking at you—like you’re something precious, something worth holding onto.

But he’s wrong. He has to be wrong.

“You can’t like me,” you whisper.

Gojo frowns, expression shifting. “What?”

Your throat clenches, and before you can stop it, heat pricks at your eyes, blurring your vision. “You can’t like me,” you say again, voice cracking. “I can’t even match you.”

Gojo's face slackens, his teasing demeanor completely gone.

"You do everything so effortlessly," you force out, your fists clenching at your sides. "It’s so infuriating." A shaky breath escapes you, and you shake your head, looking down. “So why would you even want this? You make me feel this way, and I—I hate you for it.”

For a second, there’s only silence.

Then, Gojo exhales softly.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is so gentle it makes something inside you ache.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Gojo shifts, stepping forward slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile. And then—then he reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your wrist before curling around it, grounding you. “It’s not effortless,” he murmurs. “I try so hard. You just don’t see it because I don’t want you to.”

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice is quieter now, something dangerously close to vulnerable. His fingers twitch at his sides. "I care because it’s you."

You shake your head, still not understanding, still unable to believe it.

Gojo watches you for a moment, then exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You act like I just woke up one day and decided to like you.” He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck on you? How infuriating it was, realizing that no matter how much attention I got, the only person I wanted it from was too busy treating me like an obstacle?”

Your breath catches.

“I tried everything,” he continues, voice rougher now. “Teasing you, annoying you, beating you in tests, losing to you in tests. It didn’t matter what I did, because you—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “You only saw me when I gave you a reason to compete.”

Your fingers tremble slightly at your sides. You don’t know what to say, don’t even know what you can say.

And suddenly, everything—the teasing, the constant pestering, the way he always had to be around you—it all clicks into place.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can second-guess it, before you can even think, you surge forward and kiss him.

It’s a mess of a kiss—too rushed, too desperate, all clashing teeth and uneven breaths—but Gojo groans softly against your lips, like he’s been waiting for this. His hands are on you immediately, one slipping around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as he presses you flush against him.

You’re dizzy. Overwhelmed. But it’s good. It’s him, and you don’t want to stop.

When you finally pull away, breathless and unsteady, Gojo is grinning, his lips slightly swollen.

“Worth the wait,” he murmurs, eyes shining.

You avert your gaze, fully blushing now. “But I—” You take a look at him, then hide your face in your hands. “I’m a stalker.”

“Maybe I’m into that.”

“No,” you bemoan. “I’ve stalked you at the gym, and I—” Your voice drops into a shameful whisper. “You were good. Like, stupidly good. Like, making everyone stare at you good.”

His lips twitch. “You were staring too, huh?”

You glare at him, but he just grins, all teeth, clearly eating this up.

“I hated it,” you insist, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “I hated that you’re already smarter than me, that you already have all these advantages, and then—and then you also have that? Like, it’s just unfair. You’re unfair.”

Gojo is silent for a second, and you think you’ve screwed up, but then exhales a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You are so cute.”

“Stop it!” you whine, but you don’t protest when he pulls you closer and locks your lips with his another time. You clutch the front of his shirt, drag your hands on his chest, his arms, everywhere. Then, you guide his to firmly clutch your ass, to which he freezes.

“We can stop here. We don’t have to do anymore than this, and—”

But you interrupt him, slamming your lips against his once more. Grabbing him by the shoulder you pull him into your room and slam the door behind you, pushing him against the door. “Fuck no.”

He laughs breathlessly, then continues to switch your position, now you against the door. “Thank god. Now, jump.”

You do, and you almost moan at how easily he grabs you in his arms, your legs straddling him. It’s like you weigh nothing to him as he carries you over to your bed and manhandles you into it, following not long after.

When he gets on top of you, he maintains eye contact as he pulls your shirt over your head, trailing kisses down to your neck, the valley of your breasts (but not before giving each of the girls their own tender kiss), and your stomach. With his eyes boring into you, he slowly, teasingly drags the pants you were wearing down your legs until you’re just in your panties.

You let out a noise, and he coos. “I know, I know, baby.” He gives you a gentle kiss on the top of your mound, and you clench, squirming from the contact. “Let me take my time, though.”

He gently, but firmly, lays a hand on your hip as he starts licking the crotch of your panties. It’s truly maddening—the sensation is there, but you oh so wish his skilled tongue was meeting your skin, bare and electric.

He’s taking his time laving, ravishing your taste, but you’ve had enough. “Gojo, please,” you sob, throwing your head back and grinding further into his tongue, which he welcomes. “Stop teasing.”

“Mmmm,” he pretends to think, all while focused and looking only at your crotch, now rubbing your clit in small, miniscule circles. “I can, but,” and now he’s just mocking you, with the way he adopts a babying tone, “I think you’re going to have to beg for it.”

You groan in frustration as a response, but he only clicks his tongue as his fingers reach and finally rid you of your panties. He spreads your folds with two fingers, his face oh so close to your bare pussy. But instead of finally giving you what you want,  he clicks his tongue, pouting as if you’re the one forcing him to be a bastard. “Yea, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to earn it.”

Before you can respond, he holds out his tongue and inches his face even closer to your bare folds until you can feel his warm breath over it. “You just have to say please.” Then, he ahhh-s, as if holding his tongue out to a doctor and says, “Look I’m so close—ahhh.”

You can only plead with him. “Please, Gojo.”

“No, it’s Satoru to you now, baby.”

“Satoru, please eat me out.”

He smiles. “Yeaa, that’s my girl.” And proceeds to eat you out in a way that has your toes curling.

He acts like a man eating his last meal on death row. It’s the masterful combination of laving over your folds, kissing your clit, and groaning and making noises that has you inching closer and closer to your orgasm. When you tell him, you’re close, he does exactly what he’s supposed to do—keep doing what he’s doing, same spot, same tempo, same pressure.

With a cry of his name, you come quickly, and he takes your writhing hips and their motion like a champ, easing you through it. When you feel the all-too-familiar feel of over sensitivity, you grab his hair and pull him towards your face, kissing him tenderly. 

He maneuvers his huge frame to lay down next to you, and you fall easily into a gentle embrace. It’s a comfortable silence, as he burrows his face into your chest and you stroke his hair gently.

Gentler than how you’ve ever treated him.

It’s this thought exactly that you voice to him. “You know,” you muse softly. “I was such a bitch to you.” This gets his attention, because he moves from where he was comfortable (your boobs) to look at you in alarm. “Like, I was always mean, and like acting all high and mighty—”

“Whatever you think you did, it was hot,” he interrupts you, grinning boyishly. “Like damn when you insult me I get all fired up—”

“Satoru!” You laugh, shocked, looking down at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Yea,” he winks. “Crazy for you.”

You smile softly at that, biting your lip. “I mean, I get that.” You feel his curious gaze rove over you and heat creeps up your neck as you confess, “Like I was stalking you at the gym. I saw you one time, and um. You definitely have a sleeper build.”

He hums. “I get that a lot.”

“Yea,” you blurt. “you’re really hot. Like you have really big arms, which I definitely didn’t notice in all those sweaters you wear. You could definitely throw me around.”

Silence.

When you look down at him, he’s looking at you mischievously. He sits up, takes off his shirt, and says, “Want to test that theory?”

The both of you test the theory, indeed—it’s a nice nod to your guys’ academic, theoretical physics roots. But instead of some theory involving dark matter or quantum physics debated while in class, this theory takes all night to prove.

general masterlist

a/n special thank you to @purplegemadventures ily pookie <3 we were discussing how a lot of fics so far have made seem nerd gojo really cute and shy but we tried to envision a shit eating sassy diva just like hidden inventory arc <3 like what that one anon said i need my gojo to be a little annoying cocky (but cute) bastard (or, i quote, "your gojo makes me want to oil his scalp and give him an aggressive head massage and mess his hair up"). ANYWAYS props to that one anon that dropped the "nerd gojo with sleeper build" and my beloved @tiramisuandlove i love you forever

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots!

[dakusan]

안녕하세요.

Today I'm here with another human biology ask. Do women in the vampire world have periods? I know, you already said that humans can have vampire babies, but there are mammals out there who don't have periods and still can have babies. I mean, the females of only the human species have periods as an evolutionary trait of the hemochorial placenta. Did human females evolve again when the vampires took over the world? Constant stress/fear of (maybe) getting hunted by the vampires can be good mutagen for the human gene to evolve into human females not having periods like any other mammalian female. But then you might think, "that contradicts the fact that humans can have children with vampires!". Maybe, the soulmate bond activates fertility in humans. Or maybe humans evolved into having mating seasons. What do you think? And if human females do still get periods what would be Vampire!SKZ's reaction when they realize that their blood doll suddenly got their periods? (The uterus is very untrustworthy. Anytime there's plans that I'll go out, my periods will start exactly the day prior or a couple of days prior, bcoz of that I always need to cancel on my friends 😣😣) XOXO, - 🌹

안녕하세요 to you too, babes—god I have no one to practice Korean with except for ghosts and one feral producer who says “annyeong” like it’s a threat. 😮‍💨 ANYWAY—

Let’s sink our teeth into this because you hit me with the ✨evolutionary menstruation theory✨ and I need to BREATHE for a second. I love this. I respect this. You came into my house, said “hemochorial placenta,” and now I’m pouring blood into a wine glass in your honor.

💌 Short answer: YES. Human women in the vampire world still have periods. But the long answer? Oh, honey. Buckle up.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🧬 THE BLOODY BIOLOGY OF IT ALL:

In This Universe, humans haven’t undergone large-scale forced evolution… yet. Why? Because vampires haven’t publicly taken over the world. They run it from the shadows — not as rulers, but as whispered kings and queens behind the curtain.

🧛‍♀️ You don’t know they’re there—but your barista? Vampire. Your favourite professor? Probably undead. That K-pop idol who made you cry from one high note? Definitely an Abnormal with dreamwalking tendencies.

So humans still reproduce like humans. No enforced mating seasons, no menstrual suppression, no species-wide mutagenesis. Your period is still showing up like a toxic ex the day before vacation. She’s loyal like that. 😌

That being said—the soulmate bond? Changes everything.

🩸 Soulmate-linked humans begin to experience subtle biological shifts:

Fertility regulation via magic-aura syncing

Ovulation timing can literally change to match vampire cycles (yes, they have cycles. rage cycles. chaos cycles. horny ones.)

Even the scent of menstrual blood intensifies under soulmate bonds—it becomes sweeter, headier, a signal of closeness.

But here’s the deeper science behind it:

🧬 HUMAN MENSTRUATION IN A VAMPIRE-ALTERED WORLD:

Humans still operate under hemochorial placental biology—meaning menstruation exists because the human uterus sheds its lining when implantation doesn’t occur. But here’s what you don’t see in textbooks:

Vampiric presence affects human biology on a subtle, long-wave epigenetic level.

Let me explain:

✦ ✦ ✦ VAMPIRE-PROXIMITY SYNDROME ✦ ✦ ✦

🩸 Long-term proximity to a vampire—especially one you’re emotionally or magically bonded to—can alter your reproductive rhythm. This includes:

Shortened luteal phases (your body rushes to sync with theirs)

Heavier bleeding days (blood becomes more nutrient-rich; some vampires prefer it this way)

Cycle mirroring — if the vampire has a feeding pattern, your ovulation may begin to shift to match it

Magic-induced false heats — you feel aroused, fertile, and emotional when your bonded vampire hits a hunger spike

💡 Think of it like menstrual entrainment—but instead of syncing with your roommate, you’re syncing with someone who can hear your heart skip across a city.

DO VAMPIRES AFFECT PERIOD PAIN?

Yes. Absolutely. In two main ways:

Endorphin Transfer via Fangs When a vampire bites, their venom floods the body with neuropleasure chemicals (like blood-coded oxytocin, dopamine, and analgesics). If bitten during your period, this can dramatically reduce cramps, slow bleeding, and cause what’s known as “the bliss float” — a trance-like state where your body enters stasis from sheer chemical overload.

Blood Bond Immunomodulation If you’re blood-bound to a vampire long-term, your immune system begins to adapt. Fun fact: cramps = prostaglandin release = inflammation. But under bond conditions? Your inflammation response is suppressed slightly, making periods less painful, but more emotionally intense. (This is why some dolls cry during feeding even when they’re not sad. The bond amplifies everything.)

THE RARE CASES: BLOOD-LINKED CYCLE LOSS

In rare cases—specifically with soulmates—some human women stop menstruating altogether after long-term feeding and full bond-locking. No, it’s not menopause. It’s a bio-mystic override.

Their bodies stop shedding the uterine lining because:

The vampire’s magic is stabilizing their hormones

Their fertility is on standby—waiting for a future conception the bond has pre-authorized

🧬 Scientists call this “Lunar Quiescence” 🩸 Vampires call it “The Waiting Womb” 🌹 Romantics call it “the stillness before the miracle”

It’s not permanent. It’s protective. If the bond ever breaks? The cycle returns—harder. Heavier. Messier. Like magic backlash.

TDLR:

🩸 — Yes, you still get periods in the vampire world. 🧬 — No, they haven’t magically evolved away. 🌕 — Yes, they can sync with your vampire’s feeding cycle. 🦷 — Period pain? Bitten away. Literally. 😭 — Emotional crying during feeding? Normal. Magical. Unavoidable. 🛑 — Soulmate bond too strong? You might stop bleeding altogether. 🔥 — Bond breaks? Your uterus will THROW A FIT and make it everyone’s problem.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

✦ BONUS INFO

1. HOW DO YOU MEET A VAMPIRE?

Honestly? Same way you meet anyone else. A bar. A bookstore. A gallery. A gala. Except he stares a second too long. Knows things he shouldn’t. Smiles like he’s tasted you in another life.

Vampires are everywhere. They’re not crypt trolls anymore. They’re CEOs. Artists. Doctors. Idols. The man who helped you reach the top shelf at the pharmacy? That was a vampire. He didn’t tell you because… you weren’t ready to know.

But if you are—you’ll feel it. The pull. The hum behind his words. The way your blood gets louder in your veins when he’s close.

And if he feels it too? He’ll approach. Carefully. Silently. Like a man who’s been starving and just smelled home.

2. OKAY, BUT HOW DOES ONE BECOME A BLOOD DOLL?

Now that… that’s not casual.

🩸 A blood doll isn’t a fling. It’s not “haha we made out behind the club.” It’s a contract. An ancient one. Written in intention, sealed in magic, and signed in blood.

You can’t just say “yes.” You have to mean it. Here’s how it usually happens:

✦ OPTION A: THE CLUB CIRCUIT

You get invited to a place that doesn’t show up on Google. A lounge with no name, just a red mark on the door. You’re blindfolded at the entrance. Led inside.

Everyone is beautiful. Everything feels… ancient. You’re watched. Tested. Tasted. And if someone there wants to keep you? You’ll leave with a collar around your wrist and a warmth in your spine that wasn’t there before.

✦ OPTION B: PERSONAL ARRANGEMENT

A vampire meets you. Wants you. But doesn’t want to rush. So he courts you. Follows your rules. Buys your favorite tea. Sends you books that smell like old paper and danger.

And when you finally ask, “what are we?” He answers, “yours. If you’ll be mine.” That’s when the real bond begins.

✦ OPTION C: You Seek It Out

Because you’re desperate. You want safety. Power. Intimacy without lies. You don’t want to be human anymore—not fully.

So you dig. You whisper. You meet someone who says, “I know someone who feeds… clean.” You wait. You ache. And one night, you wake up to a card slid under your door. Just a symbol. And a time.

If you go? You’re chosen. If you don’t? You’re never contacted again.

3. IS IT LIKE TINDER? NO. BUT… KIND OF?

There is a system. But it’s not for the public. It’s invite-only. Protected by arcane encryption and blood-coded servers. Some call it “The Crimson Loop.” Others just say “The Registry.”

You don’t get on it unless:

You’ve already been evaluated

You’ve been cleared by a vampire House

You know the right name to whisper at the right bar

And even then? You’re not guaranteed anything. Because blood dolls aren’t for fun. They’re for fixation. For devotion. You don’t casually get kept like a jewel in someone’s estate. You earn it.

WHY WOULD ANYONE WANT TO BE A BLOOD DOLL?

Not just for vampire dick. Though… that is part of it 😌 But let’s be real:

Sometimes it’s survival. Sometimes it’s desperation. Sometimes it’s the same reason women dance in glass cages under red lights: Because it pays. Because it protects. Because it’s safer than the alternative.

Some blood dolls are:

Single mothers who need stability

College girls drowning in debt

Runaways who need a roof, even if it comes with fangs

Survivors of shit they don’t talk about—looking for power, not pity

People who’d rather be owned than vulnerable

And for some? It’s just a choice. A luxury. A kink. A fantasy turned ritual.

🩸 Not every blood doll ends up with a soulmate. Some just end up fed, housed, kissed too gently and bitten too hard. Some burn out. Some get passed around.

But soulmates? That’s a different game.

Vampire + Vampire? It happens.

Vampire + Human (no contract)? Sure.

Vampire + Blood Doll? Sometimes, yeah. Soul-deep. Violent. Forever.

But the contract doesn’t make the bond. The bond breaks the contract. It’s primal. Ancient. Written in magic and marrow.

So why do people become blood dolls?

Because they want to live. Because they want to feel something. Because they’d rather bleed for someone powerful than be invisible to someone weak. Because in a world full of monsters, being kept by one? Might be the safest place to be.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

✦ DO VAMPIRE!SKZ KNOW YOU’RE BLEEDING?

Oh they know. Ohhhhh they KNOW. The moment you step into the room? They smell it. Not in a gross way. In a “every molecule of you just whispered ‘ripe and real’” kind of way.

Here’s what happens when you, a blood doll, get your period:

BANG CHAN // THE LEADER

🩸 Silence. Stillness. Staring. He knows the moment it starts. Not because he saw anything—because the air changed. He’ll hover. He won’t touch unless you ask. But if you do? “Say it,” he’ll murmur. “Tell me you’re still mine, even like this.” (He doesn’t mind the blood. He adores the trust.)

LEE MINHO // THE PRINCE OF TEETH

🩸 Smirks. “Your scent’s different,” he’ll purr. “More honest.” Will absolutely fuck you through the cramps just to hear you sob prettily. He bites low on the stomach, where it aches most, and purrs like a cat with its favourite kill.

SEO CHANGBIN // THE ENFORCER

🩸 Protective to the point of paranoia. You wince once and he’s got a heating pad, three blankets, and a ritual to stop the pain. He’ll feed around the pain. Growls at your uterus. Might challenge it to a fight.

HWANG HYUNJIN // THE SIREN

🩸 Bites your inner thigh. Just to feel you flinch. Says, “You bleed so beautifully, my doll.” Then kisses your stomach like it’s sacred.

HAN JISUNG // THE SHADOW WALKER

🩸 Panic first. Chaos second. Licks his fangs third. “You’re in pain?! Why didn’t you say something?! Do you want snacks? Blood magic? A spell? My kidney?” Ends up cuddling you while glamouring away the cramps.

LEE FELIX // THE DREAMER

🩸 Dreamwalks into your subconscious and gently alters your pain signals. You wake up glowing. Your uterus? Still bleeding. You? Floating. He’ll say, “You were so warm in my dream, baby.” While feeding from your wrist like it’s a love letter.

KIM SEUNGMIN // THE BELOVED

🩸 Cool. Calm. Unfazed. Until you try to hide it. “Don’t ever think I’d love you less like this.” Then kisses your temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

YANG JEONGIN // SMILE WITH FANGS

🩸 “You’re bleeding?” Grin. “Can I taste?” Menace. Absolute menace. Will make you laugh through the pain. Will also call your uterus a “traitorous beast” and demand it write an apology letter.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

Thank you for the ask. For the hemochorial placenta. For the existential uterus slander. For asking the realest question in vampire academia: “Would the soulmate bond regulate my period or would my uterus just… betray me anyway?”

You brought science. You brought soul. You brought the kind of curiosity that makes even Abnormals purr.

🌹 Your period rage is valid. Your biology questions are sexy. Your brain? Canonically delicious.

love you 💋

[lilibean96]

Now I’m not a writer so bear with me lol but all I can think about is..

Clark seeing this go down and losing it. Like he and Bruce are best friends (knows Bruce is Batman) and has been the only one rooting for them because he saw how happy this relationship was making his bestie (even if he didn’t care for the guy). When he sees Bruce’s face fall, hear his heart kick up in panic (for the first time since he’s met him) he loses all control over his heat vision/powers. Just melts the tv, breaks the remote can’t filter noise the whole shebang. He has to force himself to calm down and just nearly keeps it together long enough to call one of the batkids (prob Nightwing) to check on Bruce and it’s worse than he thought. He’d use his super hearing but he can’t seem to focus long enough and keeps trying while Nightwing explains what went down, that Bruce went dark after running back into the manor, no one can find him. He wants to speed over and tear the man apart for humiliating Bruce, wants to forget why he puts on the suit. Wants to watch the fear in the man’s eyes when the man realizes the glowing red eyes are the last thing he’s ever going to see before he can let out a pathetic cry for mercy. Clark has to breathe through the anger because it’s getting scarily easy to forget why he needs to find his control. He zeros in on Bruces heartbeat (something he never realized became automatic when he’s stressed), and decides he’ll deal with the guy later right now Bruce needs him. After letting the Batfam know he found Bruce he flys off to (idk where). Through all this he still doesn’t realize that his reaction wasn’t just out of seeing his friend hurt and in pain. He will eventually understand after lot of angsty Bat drama that he deep down he’s loved Bruce for years he just couldn’t see it until he saw Bruce devastated, broken and wanted to burn the world for him. As he goes through the aftermath with Batman getting more violent and careless the feeling intensifies. Bruce, as he’s wants to melt into the pain is even more embarrassed that Clark saw him break his perfectly constructed mask. He tries to put distance between them so he can feed the violence and rage that keeps building. He thought he could open his heart to let someone in and see him as more than a quick lay, but he was wrong. If only he could shake Clark’s sunshine presence, he doesn’t want his pity. He hates feeling exposed, raw for someone to dissect and see just how broken he really is. If Bruce lets Clark see too much more he might leave too, its panic inducing, suffocating even to think about. So he puts distance between them and Clark keeps coming around anyways. That is until one night as he’s finally feeling himself he finds he’s actually looking forward to Clark’s nightly visit. He waits on top of what has become there usual rooftop, and waits and waits. He never shows up. Bruce chalks it up as Superman Business when he gets back to the manor, at first even if he’s a little uneasy. He tries to reach him on comms, nothing. The feeling he gets next surprises him because it’s so intense. It’s fear. Cold bone chilling fear, fear he maybe pushed Clark away (they got into a fight about a mission/or maybe something els? the night before) but that doesn’t feel right deep down he knows Clark isn’t that petty he would have at least stopped by to clear the air. Then he gets a screeching static sound on his comms followed by an obviously injured, pained voice. He knows this voice, he would know it through fear toxin, brainwashing, anything.

On a shaky exhale a soft voice begs “Please don’t”, Bruce feels his whole world shift he’s free falling. Clark is begging. He’s heard that sweet southern draw angry, furious, even (probably because of Bruce) on a few occasions full of sorrow but never like this. “Kal, I’m coming, I need you to hold on, I’m coming.” the words rush out as he glides down from the rooftop. A crackle hiss washes through the comms Clark’s still pleading voice stabs through Bruce’s heart “No B stop, trap. Please don’t”

Anger instantly overtaking his fear, how could Clark ask him to abandon the other half of his soul? Because of course Bruce would realize too late this growing obsession to be with, around, a part of Clark, was love. It’s too much he can’t, no he won’t stand by. “Kal, listen to me” Brice growls into his comm. Before he can say another word a scream is torn from Clark flooding his cowl vibrating through his body, Bruce drops to his knees as the sound rips through his head, and just as quickly as it started it stops dead silence as the comm cuts out.

This came to me in a dream so bare with me people

Bruce gets a boyfriend/girlfriend or whatever just to keep the media at bay or something along those lines. But then… he actually kinda likes them??

And Bruce is confused as everyone else is about it but he isn’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth (or whatever that saying is) and he starts genuinely going out with him

His kids and everyone who knows his secret identity are rightfully cautious about it. I mean, Bruce doesn’t have the best track record with relationships, but as long as the man is happy. They just hope there won’t be too much push back when Bruce inevitably blows it up 

They love Bruce but literally no one has any faith in him to keep the relationship for long. They’re are very obviously doubting him and it makes Bruce feel discouraged but he tries not to show it

And then one day, Bruce is having a jolly good time at a gala (at least pretending to) and he gets called by his partner. He’s talking to the cameras and suddenly his partner calls him. His face lights up and the press kinda pressure him to put the call on speaker.

Everyone’s seen his partner, in fact, they seem to soak up the media presence like a sponge. Bruce logically doesn’t think they’ll mind, but just in case he wants to tell them immediately

He accepts the call and before he can get a word out, his partner is saying the most vile and ridiculous things to him.

Dude talks about how he’s disappointed that Bruce hasn’t had sex with him yet and how he never expected the Brucie Wayne to be such a prude and stop his advances. He’s says that the only reason why he put up with Bruce was to get into his pants and since they’ve been dating for five months with no action, it wasn’t worth it anymore. Dudes already been getting action from someone else and he hangs up without letting Bruce say a thing

Bruce’s entire face falls and he’s genuinely devastated. The gala goes quiet and Bruce excuses himself, embarrassed and heartbroken.

He’s trying to stop himself from crying but he just experienced his first real heartbreak in a long time that absolutely wasn’t his fault

His family say is not his fault but Bruce doesn’t believe them because he’s conditioned himself to believe that everything is his fault and he knows that didn’t believe in him in the first place

That’s it

[woodenela]

"Haha your drawings looks like ai art. So unoriginal, you sure you drew this?"

They steal from us and WE get ridiculed and questioned for it. It looks like 'ai art' because it has been fed into the machine to look like ours. What is not clicking here?

[impuls1veworm]

LOVE'S RAGE.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ Prompt: You make dinner for Ran to try and lift his spirits.

Warnings: Character death (nothing graphic).

It’s too hot in here, the smell brought by the heat making you grimace. You set the dirty rag to the side as you head towards the thermostat, the cooler the better. Ran always preferred to keep the house on the cooler side anyway, the heat making him irritable and sticky. That’s who you were trying to please; Ran had been feeling down the past week, so you were hoping to brighten his spirits today.

You couldn’t place your finger on what Ran has been feeling this way. Work was going good, and home life seemed to be better than ever as well. Sure, you two had a fight last week, but you didn’t think it was that bad of a fight. You two had managed to resolve the issue, but Ran has been quieter since then, giving you the cold shoulder. You would try to talk to Ran, and he seemed to just look right through you, your words going in one ear and out the other. You hoped after what you did today, things could go back to how they were.

You spent all morning cleaning, wiping the counters till your hands cramped. Getting on your hands and knees, meticulously scrubbing the floor, making sure no spots were missed. All laundry washed and folded, bed made, and a delicious smell wafting from the candle you’d lit. All that was left was to make dinner. It wasn’t going to be an intimate affair. Just his favorite meal and the two of you having a casual night in.

Ran is already ready, waiting for you at the table quietly. You place his food in front of him before seating yourself. You’re not one to typically make your man’s plate, but you thought he’d appreciate the kind gesture. You wanted him to see you truly cared about him, but Ran didn’t mention it. Instead, opting to keep the same blank look on his face. Ran didn’t touch his food, but you dug in, hungry after a long day of tidying up.

Flies gathered to Ran’s bowl, the greedy insects slurping up the new food, seemingly tired of the same meal they’ve had to eat at the past week. Ran didn’t seem to mind, eyes glazed over and head slumped back. The blood had long since dried and cracked along his skin, staining the white t-shirt he wore. He looked unkept and disgusting, but you didn’t dare mention it. No matter how much his now discolored skin and swollen features disgusted you. The smell of his cologne long gone, now replaced by a gag-inducing decaying smell.

No, you wouldn't mention it. Instead, you chose to keep a content look on your face and bring up new gossip about a coworker of yours. After all, you didn’t want a fight like last week to erupt again.

[deejadabbles]

Vampire Atem/Yami Alphabet Headcanons

Found this list of vamp-themes headcanons by @an-annyeoing-writer and I knew I had to do them for our favorite king-turned-spirit!

For those of you who read my Spells of Defiance series, these headcanons can be taken as 100% canon to that AU <3

A - Accident - would they turn someone to save their life?

Oof, already starting with a hard one. So, Atem is one of those vampires who hates his existence, he believes it’s a curse. However, he does still love and care for people deeply, and he knows that for many, life is sacred even if it’s a cursed life. I think in a moment of weakness, especially in his earlier years as a vampire, he might turn someone just because he’s desperate not to lose them, only to regret his decision later, especially if that someone is like him and hates what they’ve become. We all make mistakes, right?

B - Bite - how do they bite? Sensually, aggressively? Do they make it hurt or try to be gentle?

Atem is extremely gentle when he feeds off of people, always careful not to bite too deep or tear the skin more than needed, he even holds you and tries to soothe you with gentle strokes of his hands. Now, whether he tries to make it “sensual” or at all sexual...that’s a complicated topic. While Atem is almost always disgusted with himself when/while he feeds, he does recognize that there is a level of intimacy and even romance that can be connected with drinking blood, so sometimes he can be persuaded to make it a more sensual thing if you’re his lover. 

C - Control - do they take advantage of their powers?

That depends on who’s in the equation. I can see Atem using his new powers in order to bring justice to those he sees as wrong doers (like his season 0/early manga-self) as a way to make his vampire abilities useful, so from that angle he would “take advantage” of his powers. He might even get some small gratification in using his strength and speed to hunt down evil people, them cowering in fear is retribution for their wrong-doings, but even that’s not too over the top. Other than that, no, he doesn’t really use his powers for advantages over others.

D - Dangerous - how scary they can get? How bad things can they do? What’s their ethics?

So, while Atem does have a very strong moral code, Atem also has a temper, and said temper might be harder to control when he’s a vampire. Even when he’s not growling in anger, he can have this cold glare that could make bikers squeamish. There are moments, especially when he was a younger vampire, where he loses his temper and can get pretty scary. If you’re his loved one don’t worry too much, he would never lose control enough to hurt you, even though his yelling (and maybe throwing a thing or two) is pretty scary on it’s own. If you’re someone he sees a vermin though watch out, when he gets scary you’re probably going to end up dead or wishing you were dead.

E - Exchange - do they opt for blood bags or animal blood, if possible?

He opts for animal blood as often as he can. Sometimes he’ll hunt said animals himself but even that is a little too violent for his liking (Atem is a softie okay?!) so if he can go to a local butcher and get animal blood from them he’ll do it that way. He’s not fond of blood bags because A) they’re harder to acquire and B) having human blood in a cold plastic bag just makes him long for warm human blood and skin under his teeth more. Sure animal blood isn’t as sustaining for him, but Atem spent decades (maybe even centuries) figuring out how much animal blood he needs to consume in order to keep his blood lust under control so he’ll choose that over harming an innocent human.

Also, side note, if you live with him I hope you don’t have a sensitive sense of smell, because he heats up the blood on the stove to make it taste better and it can make the house stinky lol

F - First bite - on what occasion would they bite you for the first time?

Oooh that’s a good one. Like I said Atem has a very complicated relationship with feeding from his loved ones, especially his s/o, and he’s never going to ask you for your blood. So I’d say that not only would you have to offer your blood to him, but he would have to be out of other feeding options at the time. He knows that once he reaches a certain point of hunger he loses control and might kill you in a hunger-induced blood rage, so if drinking from you now, before he gets to that point, prevents that danger, he’d be willing to. Like I said above, Atem would be very gentle with you on that occasion, holding you close and stroking the skin around the bite mark to soothe any pain, and when he’s done he’d kiss the wound and the sore skin around it as amends.

The only other “first bite” scenario I can think of is if you spend months convincing him that you don’t mind (or even like) the occasional bite and finally convince him to drink your blood during an intimate moment, and again he’s very gentle and mindful of not hurting you.

G - Growl - are they more on the “civilized” side or do they enjoy hunting their prey down?

A bit of both, I guess? Since he tries not to drink from humans he’s more civilized in that way, but like I said before he does “hunt” evil people like an avenging dark angel, which he may get some small form of enjoyment from, so... 

H - Hate - how do they feel about their kind? About themselves?

It’s honestly pretty depressing how much self-loathing Atem harbors. He genuinely thinks he’s an abomination. It doesn’t help that in all his centuries of living, he’s met very few vampires who’re “good” like him. He’s also someone who’s on a high horse and if he met a vamp who didn’t kill human’s but also wasn’t self loathing like him, he’d look down on said vampire. I’m warning you now if you fall in love with him, his self-hatred is very upsetting and can be hard to deal with.

I - Intimacy - how fast would they let you close to them? Would they want to share with you what they are?

Surprisingly, I say it’s not that hard. See, even though Atem thinks he’s a monster and tries his best to stay away from people, he also craves companionship and love. Sure, he’s spent several chunks of his immortal life isolating himself in remote woods and tall mountains for decades at a time, but he always returns to humanity at some point. So if you show that you want to be close to him he’ll try to warn you or even scare you away a bit, but it won’t take too long to let you in. And yes, he’d share what he is with you if you started to get close to him, not only as a means to scare you away “before he can hurt you” but also so you know what you’re getting into by being near him.

J - Joke - would they do pranks on other people with the use of their powers?

Sometimes, yes. If he’s close to you, he’ll start to get comfortable and like teasing you, so he’ll do minor things like sneak up behind you soundlessly and jump scare you, or zoom past you to get to something before you and play keep-away. Also, he doesn’t do this one intentionally, but sometimes he’ll be sitting in a dark room, and when you walk in you just suddenly hear this voice calling out to you in the darkness, scaring the crap outta you lol

K - Key - what’s the way of making them open up to you?

Honestly just...continue to shove your friendship in his face. Like I said under “intimacy” he still craves relationships and companionship despite how much he fears hurting people. He may try to push you away at first but if you just continue to hang around him he’ll eventually stop trying to scare you away and start opening up to you little by little.

L - Life - do they wish they were human?

Absolutely. I can see Atem, ever the fixer of problems, spending the first few hundred years searching for a cure for his “condition” not just for himself but for others who view vampires the same way. He often thinks about what his life would have been if he hadn’t been turned, and daydreams about the possibility of becoming human again. 

M - Murder - would they kill someone while feeding? Have they ever done so?

Atem has killed while feeding, yes, but not voluntarily. I’m going with the general lore that vampires, when starved too long, can't control their bloodlust and Atem has killed while in that state. When he wakes with a limp, lifeless body in his arms, he’s a devastated wreck. Hurting innocent people is literally his living nightmare and the idea that his bloodlust can turn him into an animal sickens him. He would spend decades learning how much blood he needs to consume and how often, in order to keep that bloodlust from taking control.

N - Nature - do they justify their doings? Do they consider them natural?

Atem, the self-loathing martyr of a fanged prince, considering his bloodlust natural? LMAOOOO No. No he doesn’t, nor does he ever justify his actions. In fact, he uses the terrible things he’s done to justify why he shouldn’t be loved or even alive.

O - Odd - do they have any specific hobbies or habits?

Our gentle dark prince still loves games and puzzles, I think he’d like modern brain teasers that keep his mind sharp and un-ironically loves the puzzle games printed on the back of sunday newspapers, even though they aren’t hard (for him anyway). If you got close to him and showed him games he never got to play bc they’re multiplayers he’d honestly love you. He’d win most of the time, let's be honest, especially things like Clue, but his expression is just so cute and excited when you play his favorites that you’d lose 1000 times over just to see it.

P - Pain - are they sadistic? Do they enjoy what they do?

Nope. I think you all have the idea by now but Atem is one of the most self-loathing and gentle vampires you’d meet....or at least he’s gentle with you. Other vampires who hurt people for fun? Okay, I can see him being ever so slightly sadistic when dealing with creatures like that, he has no mercy for vampires who’ve embraced their monstrous curse, best you run the other way when he punishes them, else you may actually get a little frightened of him...

R - Roles - do they enjoy pretending to be normal people? How do they feel about leaving their life behind to start a new one?

I wouldn’t say that Atem pretends to be normal, in fact, the only part of his vampirism that he embraces is being an “other”, or rather, the aesthetic of being odd, something that most humans feel uneasy when confronted with. He’d see this as a good tool to keep people he may hurt away from him. He’s no stranger to stalking graveyards/cemeteries, creeping in the shadows in a way that has others scurrying past if they happen to spot him, basically anything that makes him seem creepy and makes others keep their distance. Ultimately it hurts him since he’s unexplainably lonely, but it hurts more to know he may hurt the humans he comes across. On the same note, leaving behind one life for another to avoid suspicion is a double-edged sword for him, while it reminds him how terribly lonely existence is, it’s good to keep those who might’ve grown close to him safe.

S - Scars - do they leave marks or try to make the wounds small and invisible?

If Atem feeds from someone voluntarily (as in, not in an animalistic state), he’ll do everything he can to not leave lasting marks. Leaving marks means more pain and we all know how much he hates causing pain to others. 

T - Turned - how were they turned?

In my fic, Marik turned Atem as a form of revenge, but otherwise, I could honestly see Atem being turned by any YGO villain. I say villain because him being cursed with this life by a villain (like Bakura for example, or maybe another minion of Zorc) kind of goes along with the original story’s need to punish Atem and cast him into darkness for things that ultimately weren’t his fault.

U - Universe - what’s their biggest wish that they can’t achieve as immortals?

Mostly just...being close to people without constantly worrying that he’ll hurt or kill them. I can also see Atem yeaning for the simple pleasure of growing old and dying with one's family. If he fell in love he would crave the ability to just settle down and grow old together. Hell, he’s even one of those morbid romantics who thinks couples dying within days of each other is sweet and wishes he could do that when he loses his lover to old age.

V - Vampire - would they turn you?

Man again with the hard ones! Oof, okay, so...If you asked Atem to turn you, he’d say no, reciting his monologue about how vampires are cursed vermin who shouldn’t even exist, even if you retained your humanity after the turn, he knows the deep reaches of this curse and what it will make you do, and he hates the idea of you going through what he has.

...However, much like in the very first headcanon on this list...Atem makes mistakes and has his weak moments. If your life ended unexpectedly, of you were taken from him suddenly, like attacked or in some fatal accident, he may turn you in a moment of weakness; a desperate need to cling to you taking over his better judgment. He’d hate himself after and the only way he’d ever feel okay with it, is if time proved that you retained your humanity. He would teach you how to control your blood lust so you don’t have to go through half the things he has, and only then would he be okay with what he did to you in his moment of weakness.

W - War - would they engage in fighting their own kind for the humanity’s sake?

Yes! No one even has to ask him, Atem basically thinks the only good thing he can do with his powers is to rid the world of other vampires. He’s basically an avenging angel who’ll hunt down any vampire who threatens a human.

Y - Yandere - would they become dangerous to you (their lover)?

For the most part, I’d say no. Atem is self-aware and emotionally intelligent enough to tell if he ever starts crossing lines into “unhealthy” territory, and if that ever happened, he’d literally run away. He would leave you in order to protect you, no matter how much it hurt. There may be one (literally ONE) incident where he does something to you that crosses the line, but he’d be instantly horrified and remove himself from your life, moving to the other side of the world with no means to follow him, if it meant protecting you from himself. Now the chances of this happening in the first place? Hard to say. I really don’t think Atem is unhinged or even violent enough for it to be likely, but, an argument could be made that after everything he’s gone through, Atem may start seeing you and his love for you in an obsessives, unhealthy way. Again though, even if this did happen he would realize it and run away before it can go too far.

Z - Zombie - are they on their way to losing sanity?

I don’t think so. Atem is as strong (mentally/emotionally) as they come. Maybe eventually, after millennia and millennia of constantly losing loved ones and dealing the the monster he’s become he would start losing his sanity, but that would take a long, long time. 

[huihuiheart]

Limit Break - Wonwoo

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Seventeen Masterlist

Pairing: Wonwoo x Female Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Summary: Part 2 of Limitless - Your relationship with Wonwoo has gotten more complicated since that fateful night, and you’re not sure how long your heart can take this for.

Warnings: Friends with benefits, mutual pining, things get muddied, cursing, emotional sex, crying during sex, dom/sub themes, both sides of dom Wonwoo, alcohol, drinking, bars, oral (f! recieving), protected sex.

Word Count: 2,137

Panting you watch with hooded eyes licking your lips, “Can’t you just fuck me now...or are you afraid you’ll cum before you can get two out of me?”

Wonwoo chuckles a little knowing your teasing is playful, before returning it as he crawls over your form leaving a small peck to your lips nipping at the bottom with a low growl.

“Oh, love....we’re just getting started.”

Sitting at the bar your focus was on the drink before you, not able to will yourself to look at the crowd again and see Wonwoo dancing with that other woman all over him. Junhui came up beside you and leaned against the bar.

“You don’t have to be here, you know. You don’t have to let him do this to you or be subjected to seeing it. Just say the word and I’ll take you home, nothing else needs to be said.” He offers seeing how much this seemed to weigh on you. 

You shake your head softly, “It’s fine, I’m the one who agreed to the arrangement anyways...I knew it might mean seeing him with other women. I just had hope...but now I need to face reality.” 

Junhui looks at you brows furrowed, “I still don’t know why you two agreed to that...you both like each other...why do a friends with benefits thing anyways. It’s not like you’ll stop being friends if you get together. You two are too close for that.”

You shrug slightly, “We have our reasons...it just apparently sucks more than I expected.”

Junhui hums, downing his drink before offering you his hand, “Come on.”

You look at him confused, “Jun, I said I was staying here. I’ll be fine, seriously.”

Junhui scoffs rolling his eyes at you, “First off, I know you aren’t fine. Secondly, we aren’t leaving. We’re going to remind Wonwoo that if he’s free to be with other people, so are you. We’ll see if he likes feeling the same way he makes you feel when he does this.” 

You’re a little uncertain as you take his hand, but you do it nonetheless looking between him and Wonwoo, “And what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he just likes fucking me?”

“Well then consider this your chance to find out which it is. If he gets jealous and irritated and acts up, you know it’s emotions. If not then it’s just a fuck to him...though I doubt that’ll be the case.” Junhui insists, pulling you out to the dance floor. 

You couldn’t deny the logic to his words, or the curiosity it peaked in you. Sure, you weren’t over the feelings induced by seeing Wonwoo dance with another woman, but this could give you some of the answers that you were seeking. You weren’t going to hold anything back, but at the same time, you decided to ease into what you did while dancing with Junhui...on the off chance that Wonwoo did break you wanted to know just what it was that made him do that. 

It was only a matter of seconds before Wonwoo's eyes found yours, his gaze hardening as he watched you grind against Jun. Locking onto where Junhui’s hands held your hips he swore he saw red, forgetting about the girl he had been dancing with and heading straight for the two of you. 

“Come on Y/N. I think it’s time to leave.” Wonwoo tells you, holding his hand out to you glaring daggers in Jun’s direction. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes as you place your hand in his, letting Wonwoo lead you out and to his car. His hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles whiten. 

“What was that?” Wonwoo practically growls making your brows furrow.

“What do you mean? I was only dancing like you were.” You insist, shrugging softly and he scoffs. 

“Oh, so that’s what this is about, hm? You were jealous so you decided to try and make me jealous too.” Wonwoo's eyes are focused on the road, but you could tell they were swirling with clouds of anger and lust.

You shrug instead of vocalizing a response, not caring if it only further fueled the fire burning in Wonwoo to not know what your response was. Letting it fester inside him through the whole drive, brewing a storm you'd face when reaching your apartment, yet that didn't matter at this moment. Not to you anyway.

Wonwoo pulls up to your place, getting out and heading towards your door, grabbing the spare key you'd hidden by it that he knew about. He lets himself in, leaving the door open for you as well, only to press you against it the second you close it. His body radiating heat as it presses against yours keeping you pinned in place, while his head falls to nip at your throat with a soft growl.

“If you wanted me to yourself tonight you could have just said so, but no...you had to get me all worked up like this didn’t you?” The way you mewl his name when his tongue flicks over the sensitive area where his teeth just nipped at you only encourages Wonwoo, “Don’t worry sweetheart you’ll learn just what happens when you make me jealous.” 

He’s pulling back in a flurry of limbs, kisses, and clothing as he dragged you towards your bedroom. His patience wears thin due to the jealousy raging through his bones. So much more than he was expecting to feel seeing you dance with another man.

"Why would you go to him of all people when I was standing right there? you couldn't just ask me for what you wanted? you had to go and find it from someone else?" Wonwoo growls, laying you down on the bed. Crawling over your frame his eyes have darkened more than you've ever seen, desiring to show you that he can do better to you than anyone else could. That he was the only man you'd ever need. Something that he didn't think he should be feeling considering the arrangement between you two and yet here he was unable to do anything other than to have an almost primal urge to prove this to you. 

His lips captured yours before trailing lower until he rested between your legs, breath fanning hotly against your core as his eyes focused on your face. His tongue flicking over your clit and taking your breath away. Your head falling back, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure engulfs your senses. His mouth is always skilled at making you forget about anything else and escape to a world where it’s only the two of you. His lips gentle as they kiss over your folds, it is the only chance you’re going to get to catch your breath before he becomes impatient again. His tongue curls into you searching for as much of your taste as he can get. That same desire also encourages him to push you towards your orgasm, eager for anything and everything he can get from you. It came naturally to him too, for the both of you. You two clicked together, chemistry and passion blooming into a perfect and unmatched mix and yet you both still denied that it was the case. Even when it was as clear as day to anyone. 

Wonwoo effectively shutting those thoughts out for you by bringing your orgasm crashing over you. Drowning you in pleasure despite the way he tries to ride you through it all, only pulling away after and giving you a moment as you pant for air and attempt to recover. Going to retrieve a condom and returning to gently rub his hands over your thighs to calm you down further. Only the heated feeling of his large hands on your skin has the opposite effect, bringing up the emotions he had so easily pushed away before. Now though those feelings were too much and before you could register what was happening your cheeks were already stained with tears. Wonwoo’s eyes widen when he sees the tears, not knowing how to react to seeing you crying right now. 

  “Y/N? What is it? What’s wrong? Did I do something that hurt you?” Wonwoo’s thumbs brush away the tears on your cheeks, gently cradling your face in his palms. His eyes only leave your face long enough to search for any sign of what might be wrong. 

“Woo...I...I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Your emotions run amuck through you and screw with your voice. An anxious bout of hiccups setting in as you choke out the words.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, “Okay. But just tell me why, please? What’s wrong? I don’t want to upset you anymore. I...I don’t want you to hate me or anything.”

“That’s just it Wonwoo...I can’t hate you. Even when you piss me the fuck off...even when I’m jealous of the fact that you’re going to other women. I just can’t fucking hate you!” You sniffle anger weaving in amidst the heartbreak, “ I’m in love with you Wonwoo. God, I love you so fucking much that even the thought of you with someone else makes my heart shatter...and yet I’ve had to watch that and act like I’ve been fine for months while you’re carrying on cluelessly...I can’t do it anymore though...if it happens one more time I don’t think I’ll be able to pick myself back up from it again.”

Wonwoo’s palms are firm as they continue to hold your face, despite the fear he had of your fragile state. He wanted to be sure you were looking at his face when he spoke though. Wanted to open the door to his soul for you. So that you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing after what he had to say.

“Then I won’t let it happen again.” Wonwoo promises, leaning down momentarily to let his lips kiss away your tears, “I’ve been suffering the same way...but had I know that you were in this state too I never would have let you suffer like this....Y/N I’m in love with you too...and I’m not just saying that to spare you from heartbreak. I’m saying that because tonight when I saw you with Jun it felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Like my soul was been stripped from my body as I watched you with him...with someone besides me...I thought I had no right to say anything at the time though because I thought I was the only one like this...the only one trying to project my feelings for you elsewhere so I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of you leaving without being mine again.” 

Your tears slowed as you listened to what Wonwoo had to say. It wasn’t able to heal your wounded heart so easily, but it was able to bring you some semblance of calm at this moment.

“Then what does that mean for us Wonwoo?” You question quietly, almost afraid to ask, still fearfully of what the outcome of all this might be.

“That means I want us to be more than friends with benefits. That means I want to date you Y/N. I want you to be the only one for me and for me to be the only one for you. Can we do that...or is it too late now?” He tries not to put you on the spot, however, your feelings are too important for him not to ask. He wants you to make the final decision, to be sure that whatever you want happens. He’s broken you too much at the point to be able to bear if he did it again, even if he hadn’t known before.

“It’s not too late Wonwoo...not yet.” You admit reaching up to cup his cheeks and bring him into a kiss. One with emotions long overdue to be revealed, admitting to each other what even words could not. Speaking a language that only the two of you could hear at this moment.  

Wonwoo only pulls away when he feels you working to undo his pants, his hands moving yours away gently, “I don’t think we should fuck tonight Y/N, not with the emotions right now.”

“Who said anything about fucking? No...I want you to make love to me Wonwoo...I want us to prove to each other that we’re really all the other person needs. Can we do that?” Your question is soft-spoken as you slowly reach out to work on the buttons of his shirt this time, knowing that might be at a better pace right now.

Wonwoo sucks in a break, shuddering at the thought as he helps you with his clothes until like you, he’s left in nothing. Reaching to grab the condom again.

“That we can do.”

[granolabird]

Life Is So Busted

Tonights episode had me all kinds of upset that Beth’s parents would just leave her after telling her they’re divorcing so you KNOW I had to fix it with soft Hournite. That’s the only way.  (Sidenote this was entirely written while listening to my Hournite playlist, hence the title. Link to the playlist is in my pinned post!!)

.

The thunderstorm starts as soon as Beth’s parents leave the house. She’s alone, sobbing on the livingroom floor as thunder wracks the home. Fitting weather for the solemn mood she’s in. She should’ve known it would go this way, should’ve known that her parents wouldn’t provide much solace, but she had held out hope. 

Beth was getting tired of holding out hope. 

She’s not entirely sure what to do with herself, so she resolves to call the one person she knows will know what to do. It’s a slow trek as she sniffles her way to where her phone is plugged in, and she winces as lightning illuminates the window. He’s at the top of her contact list, the only person she’s called in the last few days, so all she has to do is press the small green phone icon beside his name, and wait. 

She prays to whatever higher being is out there that he answers.

Rick is in the woods. It’s terrible weather and he’s soaked to the bone but he has to check if Grundy’s shown up. After the Eclipso-induced visions he had of Grundy back at the school he can’t stop himself from checking for the creature, even if it means being out in such terrible weather. There’s no sign of Grundy though, and all Rick has received for his efforts is water weighing him down and a terrible case of the chills. He lets out an exasperated groan as he flops into the driver's seat of his car, slamming the door and letting his head fall onto his steering wheel. He really doesn’t feel like going home to whatever drunken insults Matt is going to throw at him, especially after everything he saw at the school. And so Rick mulls over the idea of staying the night at the Pit Stop, like he usually does on the days when Matt’s being particularly cruel. As he slides his keys into his ignition, his phone rings from where it’s been discarded in a cup holder. He slowly lifts his head and squints at the screen. His heart skips a beat when he reads the name. 

Beth :)

He scrambles to pick the phone up, wet fingers sliding uselessly against the screen as he attempts to answer. By some miracle he manages to hit the right buttons, answering the call. 

He presses the phone to his ear,

“Beth?”

Silence for a moment and then 

“Rick.”

She’s crying. That’s clear the second she speaks, her voice quivering as she says his name.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Beth, hey. What’s up? Are you okay?

“My parents are getting divorced. Or at least, they’re pretty sure they are. They just told me and left. I’m just… I just need someone to talk to. If that’s okay.”

He hears Beth sniffle before she hangs up. Rick grips the wheel of his car and takes off, not caring about the weather, not caring about much of anything really. At this moment, all he cares about is Beth Chapel.

“Rick, the weather is terrible! You don’t have to come all the way over here if it’s not safe-”

“I was planning on coming into town anyway. It’s alright. See you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay.”

Beth hates the way she’s waiting at her door like some sort of sad puppy, but there’s not much else to do. She’s managed to slow her crying as she stares out the small window beside her door, waiting to see a bright yellow car pull into her driveway. She’s starting to get worried, her anxiety telling her Rick had gotten into some terrible car accident, when she sees his car. She can’t help but smile, standing as he parks, and opening her front door when she sees him get out of his car. The storm is forgotten for a moment as she runs down the front steps of her house, leaving her door wide open behind her as she throws herself at Rick, engulfing him in a hug. She’s crying again, sobs wracking her body as she presses herself into his soaked sweater and he holds her. No questions or objections, he just presses one hand on her back and the other into her hair, and holds her. Rick feels his heart break as she looks up at him with tears in her eyes, but he forces himself to stay calm.

“Beth. We should probably go inside. It’s raining.” 

“Right.”

“If you don’t wanna be at home I could drive you to the Pit Stop? That’s where I was headed.”

Beth has gotten Rick a towel and turned on the electric fireplace which he’s not even sure provides heat, but it’s nice anyway. She’s in the kitchen now, steadying herself while she makes hot chocolate, and he towels off his hair and clothes to the best of his abilities as he waits for her to return. After a few minutes Beth enters the living room with two mugs, one with just marshmallows and the other piled high with whipped cream. She offers a soft smile as she hands Rick the whipped cream-topped hot chocolate, before settling in beside him on the sofa. 

She shakes her head.

“You’re soaked. I don’t want you to get sick because of my stupid emotions, come in. I’ll make us some hot chocolate, if you want?” She manages, gesturing for Rick to follow her inside. He nods, and the pair walk into Beth’s house.

“You remembered I like whipped cream.” He laughs and it warms his heart to see her chuckle along with him.

“How could I forget? You scarfed down that whipped cream off the milkshake at the diner like it was your last meal!” 

Rick is fumbling his words and he hates himself for it, but he really is trying his best.

They laugh for a moment, and it’s a relief to see that Beth is feeling at least a little better. After a brief pause Rick knock’s Beth’s knee lightly with his own, and she looks over at him. He searches her face, struggling for the right words to say.

“How are you holding up? I mean, I guess not very well but... I mean, is there anything I can do? I’m not very good with parent things, but if there’s anything I can do…”

“I’m just glad to have you here. I didn’t know what to do, and my parents left me alone, and I really didn’t want to be alone. So I called the one person who I knew would be there for me.”

“Me?”

“You.”

Beth is tearing up again, and she looks down. There’s one question at the front of her mind that she really doesn’t want to dwell on, but she knows she has to ask.

“Do you think it’s my fault? The divorce, I mean.” She sets her mug on the coffee table and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

“What? No. Beth no, if anything you were what held them together. You talked to them every day, made sure they had at least some time together as a family. There is nothing you could’ve done, this is entirely on them.”

“But I could’ve done something. I know I could’ve. When Eclipso showed up at the school he showed me my parents, and told me it was my fault. Rick, he said it was my fault. I couldn’t fix their relationship.”

Beth slowly lifts her head, still trying to no avail to wipe the tears from her eyes. 

Now Rick is the one to put his mug down on the table as he leans towards Beth.

“Hey. look at me.”

“It’s not your fault. It will never be your fault. You tried so hard, you did everything you could. This is on them. You are the kindest, sweetest person I know, you could never cause something like that. Okay?”

He’s subconsciously laid a hand on top of hers as he spoke, but he leaves it there as she offers a small nod. He smiles at her as they settle into a comfortable silence. Rick is the one to break it.

“How about we watch a movie? Nothing cheers you up like a good movie marathon.” He tips his head towards the TV. This seemingly breaks Beth from her stupor as she leaps up to turn the tv on, separating their hands swiftly. Rick awkwardly picks his hot chocolate, taking a sip as Beth grabs the converter.

“Rick, you’ve never seen Megamind!? Well we have to watch it now!” 

“Yes! Megamind just got put on Netflix, and it’s one of my favourites.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

About halfway into the movie, Beth comes to a rather abrupt realization. She had told Rick all about what Eclipso had shown her, but she hadn’t actually asked him what he had seen. She remembered how shaken he had been when they returned to the Pit Stop after the mission, but he hadn’t talked about it. A feeling of guilt settled into the pit of her stomach, she had forced all her problems onto him, but hadn’t taken the time to listen to his own struggles. 

Beth’s mind is still lingering on her parents, lingering on the way Rick had held her hand, but she can’t dwell on it for too long. Rick is right, she needs to distract herself. So she does, settling back into her spot beside Rick, the duo quietly drinking hot chocolate as the movie begins to play.

“Hey Rick?”

He turns quickly, and she can see he’s scanning her face, trying to gauge what she’s feeling. He does that a lot, and it takes everything Beth has to not smile, knowing that he cares so much. Always checking up on her.

Rick takes a moment to think. As much as he wants to tell Beth the truth, he knows he can’t. He can’t tell her he was too much of a coward to kill Grundy, but he can tell her at least some of the story.

“Yeah?”

“When we fought Eclipso at the school, what did you see? I saw my parents, but you never said what you saw.”

“I saw Grundy. And I saw myself. I saw myself at my worst moment. I was so angry, and I just let my rage take over. I let it consume me. I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself more than that moment. Looking back on it, I was so stupid, just letting myself go like that. And you tried to tell me that, back then. You tried to stop me, and I didn’t listen.” That’s the truth. He does hate himself for that, but he also hates himself for letting Grundy go. It’s a whole whirlpool of conflicted emotions that he hasn’t taken the time to process. He’s not sure he ever will.

Beth is silent for a moment. There’s a lot to unpack there, and she’s not entirely sure what to say. Megamind drones on in the background, entirely forgotten. 

“I’m serious! You’re my closest friend. You’re the only person who listens to me, who’s there for me. Courtney and Yolanda are great, but they don’t stick up for me the way you do. They don’t care about me like you do. There’s no reason you should hate yourself. You let your anger take over, so what? Everyone makes mistakes, there’s no reason that you should hate yourself for having real emotions. I literally sobbed into your sweater in the rain like an hour ago, and do I hate myself for that? No!”

“Rick… You shouldn’t hate yourself.”

“Wow, very insightful.” he lets out a spiteful chuckle, and Beth halfheartedly slaps his arm.

“That was different.”

“It wasn’t! I was feeling really, really sad. You were feeling really, really angry. And you had every right to feel angry. Grundy killed your parents. If I was in that situation, I’d probably have done the same thing.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“You don’t know that.”

Rick locks eyes with Beth when she says that. He feels something inside him break, and he almost slips up,almost tells her how much he cares about her. How much he loves her. He wants nothing more than to kiss her at that moment. But now is not the time, the thoughts of failed love leading to divorce still fresh in her mind.

“I do. Beth, you're always looking for the good in people, always looking on the bright side. And I’m me. I’m always angry, always ready to fight. I hate everyone and everything.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“Beth. Thank you.”

“Rick, I should be saying thank you to you! You’re the one who came rushing through a thunderstorm to rescue me.”

“And yet somehow you’ve managed to find a way to flip the tables. You’ve rescued me.” 

They smile at each other, and lean just a little closer to one another as they turn back to the movie. Things are far from perfect for both of them, but together they’re working to make things at least a little better. And in that moment that’s all that matters.

[willowbird]

If you ever wrote any fics about lily Evans just know I would eat that shit up. I feel like you would nail her vivacious characterization

Omg thank you! Okay I can't guarantee the quality of this because I hashed it out on my phone over the last, idk, 30 min or so - but! Because it is a Jily event going on and I kinda lowkey wanted to participate but was nervous about it.... Here is some POV Lily Evans. I hope you enjoy!

---

"I really don't understand how you're friends with him, Remus. Really, he's a pompous, self-involved, arrogant, pig-headed little prat with absolutely no regard for the people around him. He lives in his little James-bubble in his little James-world where everything is peachy and fine and wonderful and he's this godly being of.. of... blasted wonderfulness who thinks that the sun shines out of his arse!"

Lily's jaw ached with how tightly she was clenching her teeth and she flexed her hands in and out of fists a couple of times as a way to dispense some of the somewhat manic energy that James-induced rage always seemed to fill her with. It started as a burning right in the center of her chest that then pooled low in her belly and spread out to each of her fingers and toes. It might have even been a pleasant sensation if it weren't for the fact that the one inspiring it was so bloody infuriating. She forced herself to take a few calming breaths, but when she looked over at Remus again her friend appeared unfazed. In fact, he hadn't even looked up from his book.

"Remus," she insisted, "I'm serious!"

When Remus looked up at her there was a suspicious lilt of humor in his hazel eyes. "You do realize he wasn't trying to brag about his score, right Lily? He was just trying to impress you."

Heat instantly rushed to Lily's cheeks and she lifted her chin on instinct. "This has nothing to do with this morning's test. I don't care at all if he scored higher than me. It was only by two and a half points, anyway. And! He lost points on the question about the uses of adelia root. Professor Slughorn gave me an extra two points on that one since I listed five uses instead of just the three required." Not that it mattered. Because it didn't. At all.

"Mhm," Remus hummed thoughtfully. Then he tilted his head and said, "So I guess, technically, James actually scored four and a half points more than you."

Lily narrowed her eyes at the other Gryffindor. "Remus Lupin, you are a brat."

Remus chuckled and shook his head, and when he met her eyes again there was something like understanding in his expression - so Lily fully expected him to sympathize with her. After all, Remus spent just about all his time with James. Him, James, Sirius, and Peter were best friends as well as bunkmates - but Remus was a studious academic like she was whereas James certainly seemed to jabber more than he studied. Remus also, she knew for a fact, very much valued his quiet time and sometimes got quite annoyed with how brash and flamboyant his mates were.

Instead of commiserating with her, though, Remus said, "I think it's really interesting that we've been on our morning break for almost forty-five minutes now and you've been talking about James Potter non-stop."

Traitor. Bloody traitor, that's what he was. Remus Lupin, King of Backstabbery. He Who Will Call You Out Unwarrented. As aforementioned, a brat.

"I truly hope this highly unscientific 'observation' of yours is not aiming toward the (very wrong by the way) conclusion I think you are going for," Lily warned him steadily, her tone even and her eyes narrowed. She was above such mischief as hexing her friends, even when they deserved it, but she had no qualms turning all his quills invisible if he vexed her. As Remus was very particular about his quills, he should bloody well watch himself.

Remus fluttered his eyelashes at her. "I'm sure I have no idea as to what you are referring," he lied - you know, like a liar.

Before Lily could decide whether or not the was going to benevolently allow him to slither out of it, a familiar voice cut in with a sing-song: "Mooooooonyyyyyy!"

And there they were coming in through the portrait hole - James, Sirius, and Peter. Sirius was the source of the joyful call and he led the pack, bounding over to them with all the atmosphere of an excitable puppy. He draped himself dramatically all over Remus's workspace. "You've abandoned me," he bemoaned, and though she couldn't see the exact expression she suspected he was giving Remus the full effect of his big gray eyes.

She could see Remus's reaction, though - and even as he rolled his eyes he couldn't quite hide the inexplicable fondness he held for his friend.

"Oy, let him be, Pads," James said with an amused chuckle. "Remus already told us he needed to use this morning's recess to study. We'll kidnap him later." Then, because Lily was never that lucky, he turned to her and smiled. It was a truly offensive expression, one that he delivered with his whole body. His strong, broad shoulders opened up and he stood a little taller his head tilting slightly to the side. His warm brown eyes damn near sparkled at her. For Merlin's sake, there were dimples involved. Despicable, truly despicable.

"Evans," he said politely.

"Potter," she responded in kind. Then she lifted her chin and gave an indignant sniff. "If you don't mind, Remus and I really should get back to studying. We needn't the distraction."

James, because he was terrible, grinned at her. And ugh, it was even worse than the smile. It was like his face was trying to give her a hug, and it filled her with all these warm, horrible feelings. She was most disagreeably chuffed.

Then he brought things crashing back to a reassuring normal by opening his mouth and saying, "Am I a distraction to you, Evans? Must be doing something right then." Then he winked, and the brush of his unfairly long eyelashes against his cheek was a fan to the embers of her righteous fury.

It must have showed on her face because his expression shifted suddenly and for a brief moment he looked nervous before Peter chimed in with a hurried, "Yup! Leaving now! Let's go! Going! Gone!" And in a matter of seconds Peter had somehow managed to corral both James and Sirius, tugging them off toward the dormitory.

Lily watched them go, willing her full-body fury to calm. When she looked back to Remus she found he too has just been watching his friends go - and there was a curious expression on his face that she couldn't quiet decipher.

"Remus?" she asked.

He jolted out of his thoughts and the smallest tinge of pink rose to his cheeks before he cleared his throat. "Right, yes. Now. Shall we?"

Lily studied him for a moment, then hummed and nodded agreement. Much as she would love to complain more about James, they really did need to study - and with those clowns lurking around who knew how much longer they'd get before something outrageous happened to distract them both. With that thought in mind, Lily pulled her parchment closer and wet her quill in the ink. James wasn't worth the extra thought, anyway. She certainly didn't care about him. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.

[birdwonder]

I just saw your body swap HCs for the Bucciarati gang, so could I request one for the Crusaders? I also heard about your computer troubles, so if it’s too long and rage inducing I apologize. (Hope you can get your computer fixed) (also found out I could use emojis thanks to you!)🃏

|| sorry for the late response ! thanks for the concern, jester/joker ( whatever shall i call you? ) btw ! <3 

Original Post + TW : comedic, very light nsfw 

Star Dust Crusaders | Bodyswap Headcanons

Jotaro Kujo

- The two of you were heading out to buy some cold beverages when you were hit with the stand attack that wasn’t even all that surprising seeing as Dio had sent non-stop, relentless attacks against you all ever since your journey had began. What was surprising was the stand’s effects however.

- When you staggered backwards, you had unfortunately hit your head against a stop street sign that hurt more than you wanted to admit. There was some shock though, as you hadn’t bashed against the pole of the sign but the actual image it displayed it’s self - something you were sure you were too short to reach. “How the hell?” You muttered to yourself while rubbing the back of your hair, pausing when you realised how freakishly different your hair felt. Not to mention, when you looked down, those were definitely not your clothes. 

- “You tell me.” A voice- Your voice responded, your own eyes glaring at you yet from a much lower angle. Shit, you were tall. Or, was this body tall? If you had to guess by your fashion, height and the fact you could see yourself and not Jotaro; well the dots were easy to connect.

- “Fuck, I’m you!” “No shit.” “Why the hell are you so god damn tall?” “That’s your issue?”

- “Ugh, suck my dick.” You groaned at his tone, already hating the situation. A guy was in your body and though you knew Jotaro wasn’t the shifty type, it was still uncomfortable to think about. 

- “Don’t you mean my dick?”

- Ah, he shouldn’t have said that. The two of you both stared at each other in awkward silence, Jotaro visibly regretting what he had let slip and you, slowly starting to laugh. Your laughter was a strange sound seeing as it sounded way deeper than your original one. This must be what Jotaro sounded like when he laughed … it was nice.

- Jokingly, you wagged your brows, “does this mean you want me to whip it out?” If it wasn’t your face, you’d die of laughter at the distraught Jotaro showed, followed with a hint of fluster.

Noriaki Kakyoin 

- “Now, don’t freak out,” Kakyoin tried to soothe, hands holding out to stop you from doing anything rash which didn’t work too well when even he was panicking internally. After all, the one he had to comfort had his face.

- “There’s no way I can’t, I’m… I’m you! You’re me!” Of all the times to be in a stand user’s way, why did it have to be this one ? And w h y did this weird strand of hair keep getting into your mouth?! Seriously, how does Kakyoin manage to look so cool with this pest in his face all the time?

- That wasn’t the only problem though, no. You just had to swap bodies with someone you not only thought of as cool and amazing, but freakishly handsome too. Yet you were convinced you were anything but that. Bending down, you took hold of the jacket on your body, one that Kakyoin’s mind was currently in. “What are you doing?” He asked with a confused look, watching you zip up the jacket which was horribly confusing since he had to watch his own hands fix a jacket that wasn’t even his own.

- “Zipping your- my jacket! Just don’t pay too much attention to me, ok? I’m such a mess,” you mumbled, fumbling with the zipper. Gah, you weren’t used to having such long and thin fingers. Kakyoin in return narrowed his brows, his temporarily smaller hands going over your’s. 

- “Don’t start with that [First Name], you’re perfect the way you are. How we look is not our biggest problem anyways, we need to find that stand user and quick.” As much as you didn’t want to say it, he was right. You couldn’t focus on this, not when you didn’t know how permanent this situation could be. Nodding, you agreed.

- Kakyoin then smiled, a hand placing it’s self on your shoulder. [He died a little inside when he realised he had to go on his tip toes to do this.] “Come on, after all this I’ll treat us to something nice.”

Joseph Joestar

- “OH MY GO-” Joseph tried to yell but stopped abruptly when he realised how horribly strange it sounded in your voice. Of all the days you both agreed to team up, this had to be the one.

- While he was panicking in your body, you were staring at yourself in a mirror’s reflection, flexing your arm with an interested look. The way his muscles tensed and relaxed was way too good not to admire, not when his short sleeves left little to the imagination. Even for his age, this man seriously looked good and you couldn’t even try to hide that thought from him; so you didn’t. With a low whistle, you found a new pose to show off the Joestar’s muscles in, “not bad, old man. Guess you don’t skip gym day even on a retirement plan.”

- Joseph had to double take at your comment. “I’m not that old, and I sure as hell am not retiring anytime soon!” He argued, huffing before storming up to you and shoving you away from the mirror. Admittedly, he was pleasantly surprised by your praise to his physique and it really did get to his head, “you can stare all you want at my body later when we’re not facing serious danger, just get a move on now!”

- Raising a brow at the comment, you smirked to yourself as you watched your own body try to push the one you were in currently. Wonder how it felt for him. The guy would probably get a kick out of it if he just let him relax like you were. “Is that a promise? ‘Cause you can have front row tickets to your own show if you really want, Mr Joestar.” You cooed, dropping a formal title as though you weren’t suggesting something incredibly personal at all. At least it got a good reaction out of him, seeing as he paused his efforts to get you moving to stare at you with surprise. This then made you laugh, a gloved finger then moving to gently press his nose to pull him out of his dazed state. “Just kidding, pervert.”

- After that, you started to walk off ahead of him as he tried to collect his thoughts, his final reaction leaving him grumbling over what a damn tease you are and that there was no way he’d settle for the treatment you had just given him.

Mohammed Avdol

- Neither of you were too panicked by the situation thankfully, but there was still an awkwardness between you. Luckily, neither of you were the type to get too handsy and experimental with your comrade’s body so there was a strong bond of trust.  

- “Doesn’t all this clothing get uncomfortable in the heat?” You questioned while on your search for the stand user, making a gesture to his body which was your’s for the time being. It was insanely hot and though you were sure you had a little bit of his endurance, the heat was agonising. “Even your stand uses fire! Doesn’t it bother you at all?”

- Avdol chuckled in response to that, his laugh not being nearly as satisfying and fun to hear as it sounded more like you than the man himself. Shaking his head, he answered casually, “I don’t mind much at all. I was raised in the heat and when you are brought up like that, you grow accustomed to it. Magician’s Red’s ability doesn’t affect me at all either, seeing as he is my stand.” He enjoyed answering your many questions you always seemed to have for him, it made him feel wise and secretly savoured every second the two of you spent alone together. Not only were you good company, but you were deeply treasured in his heart. That was something for another day however.

- “Really?” You were surprised that he could stand this at all. It was already becoming bothersome for you. Instinctively, you took a hold of the bottom of his shirt and pulled it forwards and backwards to make some air flow across your stomach and chest. While doing so, you looked down for a split second to really take in the fact that you were in a whole other person’s body and your breath hitched at the short glimpse you had of his chest. You knew this man was healthy but you had no idea he was that fit. Wasn’t he like a semi-pacifist sorta guy?!

- Your sudden silence had concerned Avdol, leading him to questioning you. “Are you alright, [First Name]?” He was too much of a sweetheart to be real. You forced a smile and nodded, humming a happy reply. The best you could do really when you were too ashamed and surprised that you had seen the body of a god. 

- “Yeah I’m alright! Just checking out the hot body I mean weather! It’s like… really hot. So let’s find the stand user soon so I can feel cool again, haha!” Totally played it off well. Avdol seemed skeptical but he moved on, nodding in agreement with a determined look. You two really did have a goal to complete and fast.

- Even so, he knew what you had done and found it incredibly adorable how worked up it had got you.

Jean Pierre Polnareff

- The moment the shock of your minds switching bodies had subsided, Polanreff’s prioritises had gotten a little jumbled. His arms wrapped around his body, which really meant your’s, caressing each curve and swayed side to side with a dreamy expression. In fairness, he did feel like he was in a dream. He was in your body! It was so soft and perfect and whooo, did he mention soft? This chest was made for loving and supporting a head, and Polnareff was seriously looking for a pillow.

- “Ma cherie, you’re just so gorgeous! You’re so wicked to have kept this from me all this time,” he exaggeratedly complained while his hands still roamed his new, greatly admired body. You on the other hand, were a blushing mess who was trying to get him to stop.

- “Polnareff, please! We need to get going,” you insisted, trying to pull his arms away as you shut your eyes tight to avoid seeing his actions. One pro side of being in his body was adopting his incredible strength. 

- “Ah, oui, we shall go! But please, I need to let you know there is no way I can pass up on admiring this.” Oh please someone stop him now. “I mean, have you seen this rump?” Almost screeching, you slapped a hand over his lips and shook your head quickly with a stressed look. You were going to die of shame before any of Dio’s henchmen or women would even get to your first.

- He stared up at you with confusion before finally letting it sink in just how crude he was being. It wasn’t like he whole heartedly meant to! He just really appreciated your appearance. “Sorry cherie, I suppose I went to far, hm? I just couldn’t help myself.”

- You, unable to stay mad at the french man for longer than even a day, sighed and waved it off, knowing he meant no real harm. “It’s alright but please, we really should try and find a way to revert to our original bodies.”

- “Of course!” He enthusiastically agreed, taking a hold of your hand before starting to march off to whatever direction he so needed to go to - meaning, a random one he picked and prayed for the best. “There’s no way I can truly engross myself with your perfections from a first person’s perspective! As soon as we’re in our bodies, you’ll be showing me everything, cherie!”

- Honestly, you were a little excited by that.

Iggy

- “AAAAAH.” “woof.” “AAAAH” “wOOF?!” “AAAAAA-” “WOOOOO-”

- mother fucker you are a dOG.

[sociallyawkward--fics]

Dirty Little Secret

Hello I just finished this and I have not edited it and I am never going to reread it lol. It is probably disjointed, OOC, and incomprehensible. Welcome to my super sick and drug-induced It oneshot. Also for the title I was torn between this and ‘truth or dare’

My friends also told me I had to put this joke in the author’s notes: “I’m paying homage to the original It. King was on coke when he wrote it, and I’m on a wild amount of cold medicine and illness”

----

Summary: Miraculously, they all lived. They killed that damn clown and they lived. Now, Richie just had one last thing to say.

Word Count: 1877 words

[ao3 link]

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The sounds of his old friends splashing around in the quarry faded around him. Distantly, as though he wasn’t in his own body, Richie could hear them cracking jokes and laughing at each other, as if the seven of them hadn’t almost just lost their lives.

As if Eddie hadn’t almost--

Richie focused on cleaning his glasses. Without them on, it was blurry and hard to tell, but he thought there was still blood embedded into the new spiderwebbing of cracks left on one of the lenses. It wouldn’t come out. Really, it could be anyone’s blood, he’d lost track of their injuries by this point. 

But Richie knew who’s it could have been. 

Bev had said the Deadlights gave her visions of their deaths, but he hadn’t known just how vivid they could be until he dropped out of them himself. He’d opened his eyes to Eddie being skewered above him, helpless to do anything but scream his name, the Loser’s a chorus of the same. Then, he blinked, and Eddie was above him laughing and cheering his “victory.”

Richie had barely rolled them out of the way in time for one of It’s massive claws to dig deep into the stone where they had been laying. Pennywise made a noise of rage, but Richie hadn’t allowed himself even a moment to think. He’d grabbed Eddie and ran.

And now here they were. They’d killed It, crushed Its heart in their hands, and Derry was safe. They were safe. Eddie was safe. Richie sat on a rock in the dirty quarry water, distantly aware of the splash wars going on while Eddie chopped his hands and told them how unsanitary it was, cleaning themselves in dirty water. Richie knew he was being unusually quiet, and someone was bound to notice soon, but he felt like if he didn’t laugh, he was going to cry.

And for once, Richie was all out of jokes.

Then, the absolute worst thing happened: Richie was dragged into the spotlight.

Apparently, the other six Losers had been recounting the “best moments” of their battle. Richie didn’t remember much, truthfully, aside from running for his life and sniveling like a little kid.

“Hey, Rich,” Beverly called. “What was that whole ‘Truth or Dare’ thing about anyway?”

Richie let out an awkward laugh, plastering a smile onto his face. He’d gotten good at it, over the years, with how much he hated his own act, but now it just felt stiff and misshapen. He waved his hands in the air as he spoke, his glasses flopping around precariously in his grip.

“Oh, you know, just something that damn clown had brought up.”

Bill laughed. “Why would he b-b-bring up Truth or D-Dare?”

Bev swam over and started poking at his sides as she laughed. They were all laughing so much. They were clearly handling the trauma far differently than him.

“Why would It use that?” She teased. “Got something you’re afraid to confess, Trashmouth?”

Richie forced out another laugh, sounding weak to his own ears. More than you know.

Instead, Richie reached for a distraction. “Yeah, how fast it took me to finish with Eddie’s mom--”

“Beep beep, asshole!” Eddie shouted, and Richie’s next laugh felt a little less desperate. Teasing Eddie was familiar and comfortable, and Richie was almost tempted to put his glasses back on to see the adorable way his jaw clenched with annoyance.

“Remember that one time Bill dared Mike to smuggle one of the sheep into his grandfather’s house?” Ben asked, and if Richie wasn’t so gone on Eddie, he could’ve kissed him. Intentionally or not, he’d just saved Richie a whole lot of floundering to keep the attention off where he wanted it least.

The group laughed and Mike shook his head with a grin. “He was so mad,” Mike said. “I thought for sure he’d make me sleep in the barn for that.”

“Or what about the t-t-time Eddie dared Richie to eat that year-old twinkie we f-found in R-R-Richie’s room,” Bill said.

Even Richie had to laugh at that one. “Yeah, where was the concern for my health there, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, though there was no heat behind it. “Plus, those things never fucking expire. They’re garbage, but that wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“Oh yeah? It tasted as bad as your mom’s--”

Eddie splashed Richie, sending a wave of nasty quarry water into his mouth and preventing him from finishing his sentence. He sputtered and coughed, laughing as he spit it out, and the weight of everything felt a little less oppressive now that he was laughing with them all.

“Oh!” Bev said, “What about the time Stan dared Bill--”

Richie grinned as he went back to trying to dig the blood out of the cracks in his glasses with his nails. They were short and stubby, so it wasn’t exactly easy, but he managed to make some progress. This time, though, he made sure not to tune his friends out. He listened to each of their stories, letting their laughter wrap around him like a warm, worn, familiar blanket, just like he had always been searching for when they were kids, and slowly felt his shoulders relax. And as they were laughing, the thought occurred to Richie.

What was he so afraid of?

This was Richie’s family. After everything they’d been through, killer alien clowns and all, would his sexuality really be the thing to break them? It’d be a little silly at that point, Richie thought. 

A little silly, and a lot unfair. And who knew how they’d react? He’d seen them all in their underwear, shared blankets and chairs and beds with them, held them close (he wished he could do that now, but he wasn’t brave enough to be so touchy as an adult). What if they accused him of taking advantage of them when they hadn’t known? What if they were disgusted by him? What if they forgot him again, but this time by choice?

Richie was forced out of his thoughts when someone shrieked, and he promptly realized he’d allowed himself to tune everyone out again as he catastrophized. His head shot up at the shriek, his heart pounding in panic. Instead of a psychotic clown or a gruesome murder, Richie caught sight of Ben, who had seemingly heaved Beverly out of the water, tossing Bev as far as he could back into the murky water. She came up sputtering and laughing, arguing that whatever she’d said had definitely happened, no matter what he said.

Bill and Mike were leaning on each other from the force of their laughter. Ben had a sly grin on his face, though the corner of his lip was twisted a little in embarrassment as Bev kept hounding at him. Stan wasn’t outright laughing so much as he was grinning, but that was pretty much the same thing when it came to him. Eddie was laughing so hard that his cheeks had gone pink.

Richie promptly realized that if he didn’t do it now, he was never going to get up the courage to do it again.

“I’m gay,” Richie said loudly, the words echoing uncomfortably across the quarry.

The sounds of splashing and play fighting stopped and Richie heard more than saw everyone turn toward him. He kept his glasses off, eyes focused on his hands. If he had to look at them, see them clearly, he wouldn’t get through this. Every cell in his being was telling him to bury this with a joke, to move on and make a funny and forget the whole thing, but he couldn’t. Not this time. He needed to stop hiding.

“I’m gay,” he said again, quieter this time. “That’s why It brought up ‘Truth or Dare.’ Because I wouldn’t want anyone to pick truth.”

Richie kept his head down, but he heard the others moving through the water. He startled when he felt Bev’s arms wrap around one of his own. Richie looked up and saw his friends (or, really, saw blobs shaped vaguely like his friends) all coming toward him, wrapping themselves around him where he sat.

Ben curled himself around Richie’s knee, right below Bev. On Richie’s other side, Mike, Bill, and Stan all crushed in trying to wrap around him in some way. Mike ended up wrapped around Richie’s leg, which probably looked ridiculous, if only Richie could see, while Bill and Stan curled up around his arm and side. Then, Eddie came up behind Richie, wrapping his arms carefully around Richie’s shoulders and resting his head on Richie’s own (probably taking advantage of being taller than Richie, for the moment).

“We’re proud of you, Rich,” Stan said quietly.

Tears stung at Richie’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He sat there for a few minutes, soaking in their warmth and care, closing his eyes and letting peace finally overcome him. The secret, his dirty little secret, had finally been aired. He didn’t need to be scared of it anymore, at least not in this small circle (coming out as a public figure was an entirely different story, and Richie sure as fuck wasn’t ready for that yet). Pennywise’s words, echoing in his head since they were said, finally began to quiet.

“Thank you,” Rich said eventually, his shields formed from humor finally coming back up. He could only handle so much emotional vulnerability without making a joke. “I don’t have my glasses on so I don’t know who you people are, but thank you.”

Richie’s friends laughed, and he could feel Eddie’s chin brushing against his head with the force of Eddie’s eyeroll. Richie himself chuckled a little, blinking to clear the lingering tears from his eyes before they could fall. It was then that he noticed his hands: one clasped tightly between Ben and Beverly’s fingers, and the other resting on one of Eddie’s arms, Stan’s hand resting atop his.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled.

He felt more than saw (seeing as he couldn’t see) Beverly and Mike look up at him.

“I legit can’t find my glasses.”

A chorus of “Are you serious?” met Richie’s ears and he almost laughed again, but it was true. Sometime between the six of them latching onto him, Richie’s glasses had completely vanished.

Richie settled in where he sat as the others went off to find his glasses, diving beneath the water and arguing between themselves. The only person who didn’t move away was Eddie, who shifted from standing behind him to sitting next to him. As he heard Bev laugh, followed by a splash (Richie would bet money she just dunked Ben, the two had been attached at the hip and making heart eyes at each other since they escaped Neibolt), he felt Eddie grab his right hand and interlock their fingers.

There was a distinct lack of cold, wet metal as Eddie squeezed his hand, and Richie swore his heart skipped more than a few beats.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one with a secret, Richie thought as Eddie’s head leaned against his shoulder for a few seconds. And maybe, just maybe, Richie wouldn’t have to go home and face his nightmares alone after this.

[tarithenurse]

Spark - 15

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Hints of smutty thoughts, angst, lack of proofing, suppressed emotions, assholes, fighting, sarcasm. Not necessarily in this order. A/N: Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

15. Choking

…   Reader   …

The dust clings to your sweaty skin as you force your way through Benimaru’s powered offence. Even if the flames he produce don’t hurt you, the heat steals your breath and the pressure of the air still feels like walking through a storm. Clenching the jaw to hold back curses, the best option is to somehow dodge the blasts of fire and come in low, aiming for his ankles in an attempt to knock him off balance.

Easier said than done. And sure enough, when your legs swing around, he simply jumps and somersaults over to land right behind you. One hand grabs one of your arms, fingers tangle into your hair, pulling your back into an arch against the knee he has you pinned with.

“Now what?” he drawls and your subconscious projects lewd images into your mind – most scenarios where he is pulling your hair for “slightly other” reasons.

Your own hand is small around his wrist but the grip is strong and he doesn’t fight as hard against you as a real attack would which means you can pull him along into a tumble that lands you splayed over him on the ground. The hard panes of his muscles cushions your back a bit while the air is knocked out of him. The only problem now is that he somehow has the wits to change the grip, locking your arms by the elbows – the tangle of limbs is angling you awkwardly and pressing you chest out and shoulders back. A slight tilt of the head brings his bored expression into view.

I can grind into his groin, catching him by surprise and -

“Waka! WAKA!” Mamoru and a few of the other men burst out into the sunlit back yard.

Fists clenched, chests heaving, and eyes filled with nervousness, it’s obvious even to you that something’s wrong. Benimaru must have realized to, because he releases you and pulls you to your feet as he urges the men for an explanation.

“Civilian cops -” Mamoru doesn’t get further for the others.

“- they’re everywhere -”

“We heard it’s the same in Sumida and Taito!”

The panicked voice glide into the background and you grab the oversized clothes you had discarded before the sparring, pulling on socks and shoes without bothering to wipe the sand off your feet.

“Other places too, but the worst thing is -”

Mamoru finally manages to overpower his team mates, “- everywhere Company Three is conveniently there too.”

Shinmon’s voice calms your galloping heart though the words are lost on you – they are not meant for you anyways, but the men who set out to track and delay the unwanted search units in their progress as according to the Worst Case Scenario Plan.

“[Y/N].” Like conjured out of nowhere, Benimaru stands before you, his hot hands wrapping tenderly but sternly around your upper arms. “Keep your head clear. You know what to do?”

You could drown in the calm fire of his mix-match eyes. “Yes.”

“Don’t come out until I come for you...” It almost seems like he wants to say something more, his gaze flicking across your face, but his mouth closes and he turns you with a slight push to get you moving.

And move you do.

For once, you don’t bother about removing your shoes as you speed inside, feet beating a scrambling tattoo as you rush down the hallways and into the men’s bathroom (keeping you gaze fixed on the window and ranting apologies to the startled guy who is unaware of anything going on outside). It’s a stretch for you to get up and through the half-sized window, only pausing to check if the little back street is clear.

As you spill out onto the ground ungracefully, a little thought in the back of you head says you’ll be bruised from this. Thankfully, adrenaline is coursing through your veins and forces the body to move on its own.

Over the wall into the neighbour’s garden.

Spot the little outhouse in the north-west corner...and onto the roof while keeping low.

The thoughts have warped into Benimaru’s voice instead of your own, keeping the objective clear just like he would have wanted. Dirty hands reach for the second floor window in the next house, sliding the loose glass pane sideways without the slightest tremble. Are those my hands? They must be, because they do as you want, reaching in and unlocking the window.

It’s a storage room, you realize after entering and closing the unorthodox entry. Technically, some bored-looking wise ass had revealed that days ago but it only really becomes relevant enough to understand now as you clock the futon in the corner. Under there, there’s a couple of altered floorboards to create a hiding space.

Pushing up the cover, you glare at the cramped spot, a hand sliding across your stomach that has gotten softer thanks to Konro’s amazing cooking granting you regular meals. It’ll be tight. Very tight.

...   Benimaru   ...

Cops. Benimaru can’t recall the last time they had set foot in Asakusa – the district has been more or less self-governing for as long as anyone can remember and institutions like police and firefighters had been a part of the neighbourhood watch roles. Still is, but a fraction of them (the ones best at handling combustions) had been selected by Konro and formed the Seventh’s Special Fire Force. The people of Asakasu protect their own...but it had still taken too long to round up the unwelcome “visitors” and even longer to find the sleazy bastard from Company Three who had managed to sneak into the headquarters.

It had taken all of Benimaru’s willpower to keep from reducing the man to ashes. The taste of blood seeped into his mouth, while Doctor Giovanni spoke of the so-called righteous need to study and use (abuse) the young woman. Fiery rage simmered beneath the captain’s skin at the outsider’s obvious lack of compassion, the refusal to see [Y/N] as a human with rights.

Thankfully, Konro had been able to think. His voice could cut stone as he calmly stated what the accepted channels for cross-jurisdiction work were and in particular how they had been violated during this “unauthorized operation”.

That’s when they were handed the official documentation overruling anyone in Asakusa. I could take them on and win. But Konro took the option away by accepting the order from the higher-ups and telling Company Seven to stand aside.

...

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Konro grated out.

No. The twins had been fast, grabbing the few belongings that could betray [Y/N]’s existence and stashing them in the storage together with other goodwill things.

“The intel was...incomplete,” Giovanni conceded, goosebump-inducing sweetness slathered onto every word. “I’m thankful for your help. It’s a relief to know we can trust our colleagues across all of Tokyo to be true to the law and the interest of the nation. Imagine if someone had indeed kept vital information Haijima and the Holy Sol...”

Benimaru nearly cracked his teeth at that, but managed to keep a stoic facade despite the inner rage.

“Yes, where would we be without the government?” Konro reiterated rhetorically. “Humanity would be vulnerable, and we’re here to protect the people, after all.”

The words hung for a moment heavy in the room until the sound of departing vehicles rumbled by the building. Police is leaving.

“...indeed. Yes.” A few fingers touched the brim of the hat, tipping it lightly in salute. “At least today was...fruitful.”

What? The two men in charge of Company Seven didn’t dare move until the door had closed behind Giovanni. [Y/N]. I have to...she has to...if she’s not -

“Beni.” Konro’s hand was heavy on the younger man’s shoulder, his eyes darker than normal with worry. “You have to wait ‘til they are gone.”

[solohux]

Thank you for these prompts, Lottie. “I don’t want to be claimed by anyone but you.” with omega Kylo and alpha Hux, please.

47-: “I don’t want to be claimed by anyone but you.”

In the middle of reviewing Captain Phasma’s newest squadron of elite stormtroopers, General Hux is summoned to the holochamber for a surprise meeting with the Supreme Leader. It isn’t out of the ordinary for Snoke to suddenly request the presence of his two co-commanders to, no doubt, bark commands at them to boost his own ego before ordering them on another menial mission to locate the map to Skywalker.

Hux rolls his eyes but makes his way to the holochamber anyway, meeting Kylo on the way there. As usual, the omega is dressed head-to-toe in his black robes, his young and handsome face hidden by that infernal mask, though Hux is partially grateful for it; without it, Kylo’s youthful looks and baby-face, as Hux calls it, precedes him and ruins his fierce reputation as the ‘Jedi Killer’. Plus, Hux takes great enjoyment from the fact that only he is permitted to look upon Kylo’s face and body; a privilege of being Kylo’s almost-mate.

“I don’t like this,” Kylo says, halting outside of the grand doors to the holochamber. “I sense something.”

“Maybe it’s your heat approaching,” Hux says, taking hold of Kylo’s hand and gently pulling his glove off a little to gain access to his wrist, feeling it for a fever. “We said we were going to go away when you next fell into heat, remember? To that spa on Lagoonia.”

“I remember,” Kylo says, and Hux can just tell that the omega is smiling.

“To make things official,” Hux glances down. “If that’s—”

Kylo pulls his hand free from the alpha’s hold and closes the gap between them until they’re chest-to-chest, “It’s all I want, Hux. To be claimed by you, to be yours.”

Hux smiles, reaching up to smooth his hand across the cheek of Kylo’s mask, moving to guide the omega into a kiss—though he just has to settle for pressing his lips to the cold forehead of Kylo’s mask; it’s enough for now.

“But that isn’t what I meant,” Kylo says, his voice laced with concern. “It’s the Force. It feels like it’s trying to warn me about something.”

“I’m sure it’s just some nervous jitters about this meeting. After what he did to you last time. Your bruises are still healing” Hux steps back and stands tall beside the omega, wanting to calm him with his presence and calm himself instead of thinking how Snoke brought physical punishment upon Kylo only a few days ago for an unsuccessful mission. “It’ll be over before you know it and we’ll be back in our chambers before dinner arrives.”

Kylo says nothing, just nods in silent agreement.

As soon as they step through the doors and enter the domineering gaze of their Supreme Leader, they hide their feelings for each other and become nothing more than bitter co-commanders. They both agreed that it’s safer this way, to keep their courtship and relationship from Snoke; the Leader would only disapprove and argue that their love is splitting their focus from their duties.

The alpha’s leering, blue hologram is already perched high on his massive throne when Hux and Kylo enter.

“Precisely on time,” Snoke chuckles. “Do you ever make mistakes, General Hux?”

“I like to think myself incapable of errors, Supreme Leader,” Hux announces proudly with his chin held high, fighting to keep his thoughts of Kylo from his mind. The pair stand on the raised platform at the end of the walkway, halting side-by-side—but not too close.

“Indeed,” Snoke turns his gaze upon Kylo. “I won’t ask my apprentice the same question. We know how much he seems to enjoy failing me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hux sees Kylo’s shoulders drop. The omega’s distressed scent is rolling off of him in waves, potent and worrying; as an alpha himself, Snoke must be able to smell it, to sense how afraid Kylo is of receiving more bruises and trauma.

“But that is beside the point,” Snoke says, sitting back in his throne. “I have called upon you both to share some…thrilling news.”

“We wait with held breath, Supreme Leader,” Hux says.

The old creature smiles a twisted grin, “I have been in touch with an old friend of mine, a true acolyte of the dark side. He is powerful, of royal Sith heritage, and a pure-blooded alpha.”

“Impressive,” Hux nods, feigning interest.

“That he is, General Hux. He is strong with the Force and a great leader. An alpha that many crave to destroy but he triumphs over enemies with ease. He shall be a tremendous asset to our cause. But, a man of such prowess and talent comes with a price.”

Hux is already coming up with his argument against this plan inside of his own mind, knowing that their budget will not be able to afford whatever this old disciple is asking for.

“And his price?” Snoke leans forward, and the horrific realisation hits Hux like a punch to the gut. “He wants you, Kylo. My young omega.”

“No.” Hux answered without thinking, without a moment’s thought about their secret relationship.

“No?” Snoke parrots. “How dare you question my authority, General.”

“This isn’t right,” Hux says, stepping forward in front of Kylo, holding an arm out as though shielding him from the prospect of being married off to another alpha but his logical mind quickly prevails with a more convincing argument from someone who is meant to dislike Kylo. “What you’re suggesting, it’s…it would be detrimental to the hierarchy of the First Order. Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren is an integral part of our plans for rule, as much as it pains me to admit. We need him as he is.”

“Kylo has failed me one too many times, General,” Snoke yells in his powerful alpha voice, making Kylo cower. “If he is enough of a whore that he will spread his legs for you—a bastard, runt of an alpha—then he shall do this.”

Hux’s blood runs cold. He steps back until he bumps into Kylo, feeling the omega’s heavy breaths from his heaving chest.

“Yes. I know of your intimacy outside of these doors,” the commanding alpha sneers. “You think you could hide it from me. I see everything in Kylo’s mind for he is my weapon, my property. If I command him to bow then he will do it.”

Hux’s stomach twists, begging, “No, Supreme Leader—”

“Bow, omega! Bow before your one, true master!”

“No, Kylo!” Hux turns just to see his almost-mate fall to his knees, catching himself on his hands and somehow looking like a lost kitten instead of a hulking knight as he surrenders to the power of Snoke’s alpha-voice. Hux stares at his omega with angered tears in his eyes, willing him to get up and fight back against this evil creature before them. But he doesn’t. Kylo doesn’t move.

Snoke laughs, the terrible sound echoing around the chamber, “See, General? Kylo is nothing more than a pup who needs to be given orders. And my alpha acolyte will keep him in his place with a claim mark upon his pretty neck. Perhaps a litter or two in his belly.”

Hux seethes with rage, wishing he had his blaster on him to take a well-aimed shot between Snoke’s eyes. He won’t allow this to happen, he can’t.

“And should you interfere in this arrangement,” Snoke says, standing up tall and towering over Hux. “Then I shall strip our young omega of everything he has—his power, his sanity—and then make him watch as I kill you, General Hux. I can give you a preview of his torture now if you so wish.”

Hux scrunches his nose up in pure rage but keeps a relatively calm tone, “That won’t be necessary.”

Snoke seems convinced, “Good. The acolyte will be aboard in three days to meet with his new mate and to claim him. I suspect he will like his prize to be in heat as he claims him so be a good soldier and arrange that, hm? An appointment with medbay for a heat-inducing injection will be sufficient.”

“Understood.”

Snoke’s horrid, victorious laughter echoes as the hologram fizzes out and leaves the two co-commanders alone in the empty chamber. As soon as the Leader is gone, Hux drops to his knees beside Kylo and cups both sides of his helmeted face.

“Ren?” Hux says, terrified that the news of being forced to become mated to another alpha has broken his mind. “Ren? Kylo, please talk to me. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. Just talk to me.”

Kylo says nothing but Hux can see the trembling of his shoulders, the quiet sounds of crying from behind the safety of his mask. With great care, Hux’s fingers find the parallel clasps of the helmet and he gently pushes them to lift it away from Kylo’s face, letting his dark hair fall into place before casting the mask aside. As expected, the omega is crying, tears coating his pale cheeks in rivets and his bottom lip trembling as he fails to hold in his sobs.

“Kylo,” Hux says softly, cupping his cheeks and pressing their foreheads together. “I won’t let anyone touch you.

“A-Armitage,” Kylo says in a shuddering breath, and Hux freezes: Kylo never calls him by his first name. Hux had even begun to doubt whether his almost-mate knows his name, but the omega has just uttered it in the most desperate, pleading tone that Hux has ever heard him speak in. “I don’t want to be claimed by anyone but you.”

“You won’t be,” Hux says, lifting Kylo’s head up so that they can meet each other’s gazes. The omega has never looked more lost than he does in this moment, not even when he stepped off of the Night Buzzard and into Hux’s life like a tornado, one that the alpha is glad to have been ruined by.

“But you heard him,” Kylo sniffles. “Three days.”

“That’s plenty of time,” Hux says, wiping away Kylo’s tears with his finger, kissing his cheeks where the droplets were. “Accidents can happen within seconds.”

“Accidents?”

“Indeed,” Hux shrugs, taking off his greatcoat and wrapping it around Kylo’s trembling shoulders, hoping that the omega will be comforted by his scent. “Slipping and falling onto a dagger multiple times, being electrocuted by a high-spec baton. The list could go on.”

Kylo laughs. It’s the most beautiful sight and sound that Hux could wish to witness right now in this seemingly dark moment. The alpha sighs, taking in the overwhelming sadness in the omega’s dark eyes, feeling a fire burning in his own; a hungry fire that will only be satiated by Snoke’s spilt blood.

“I love you, Armitage,” Kylo says softly, placing his hands on top of Hux’s where they still cup his cheeks. It’s the first time that he’s uttered those simple but tremendous, heartfelt words, and Hux doesn’t hesitate in saying them back.

“I love you, Kylo Ren.” Hux swears that he can already feel Kylo’s presence inside of his mind as though there’s a bond in place already, feeling the omega’s intense grief turn to happiness as they lean in to kiss, desperately clinging on to each other in the middle of the empty holochamber.

Both the Supreme Leader and the so-called alpha acolyte will not lay a finger upon Kylo, not as long as Hux still has breath. He swears to the stars that he’ll end them both for coming up with such a malicious plan for Kylo.

Three days to plan, three days to execute.

Hux has never failed yet, he isn’t going to taint his perfect record now.

[bungou-stray-dingus]

hey!! Can I request chuuya and dazai with a s/o that’s on her period and she has to go through period cramps? I really love your writing a lot hehe

a/n : I hope you enjoy this! I added a little bonus part for this request and I hope you like the little bonus. If you do like the bonus, please don't hesitate to ask for more pieces that include bonus parts. Also.. F*** AN ANGRY UTERUS! I hate period cramps, they are awful. Much Love, DINGUS!

Dazai

When he walked in he was used to you being there to greet him with a warm smile, a hug, and a brief kiss before pulling him to the couch to cuddle with him. That's why he slightly panicked, his eyes scanning the living room before landing on the small form on the couch covered with multiple blankets. He walked over to inspect and he saw you there, your lips turned down in a little pout, your brows pulled together and your grip on the edge of the blanket tightened as another cramp began.

"Is it that time again?" He asked, squatting down next to you. You had on one of your hoodies, the hood pulled up and the strings drawn so the hood closed in around your face. He thought you looked adorable, especially when your bottom lip jutted out and you slowly nodded your head. "I'll order some take out, and we'll just relax for the evening, how about that?" You perked up a little and he kissed the tip of your nose before standing up straight.

He had been with you long enough to know that your period would have you out of commission for the amount of time it lasted. The pain it caused differed every month, sometimes your cramps wouldn't have any affect on you at all, they were small and didn't cause you much pain. Other times they'd have you doubled over in pain, crying as you wrapped your arms around your abdomen, your breath coming out as hisses through your teeth. This seemed like one of the latter times, and he knew that the most awful cramps lasted the first two or three days.

He always did his best to help comfort you through these times every month, whether it be with extra cuddles and kisses or with jokes that most other people would think are stupid and ridiculous. He didn't fully understand how much pain you were in, but he hated seeing you even wince whenever you got a cramp. He wasn't the biggest fan of pain himself, and seeing his beautiful belladonna in so much pain hurt him just as much.

He cared about you a lot, but he also wanted to use your period to his advantage as well. You would scoff at him from your small cocoon of blankets on the couch when he would call Kunikida and tell him that he couldn't come into work because you were on your period. Since it was Dazai, he didn't really care if Kunikida said no and he would end up staying home with you anyway. It was only during the beginning of your period though, and on those days he would grab all the blankets from around the house and wrap the two of you in them. You would rest your head on his chest and he would help hold the heating pad on your stomach, the blankets were wrapped tightly around the two of you, only your heads peaking out from the tops. He would rent a bunch of movies and marathon them with you all morning and afternoon, only getting up to reheat the pad on your stomach or when either of you had to use the restroom.

After the movie marathon was over he would carefully move you off his chest (which was very hard considering how tightly wound the blankets were) and go to the kitchen to either start making dinner or just order something to eat. You would watch him with lidded eyes, trying to fight off sleep as he worked over the stove. He would curse under his breath whenever he got burnt or something taste as he had expected. Usually you two would end up eating carry out in the end, he wasn't the best chef, but it was the thought that counts and you appreciated the attempt none the less.

After eating he would clean up the mess, it was the only time he willingly did all the cleaning, it showed you that he cared and that he loved you. He wasn't the most cleanly person, and when you weren't on your period you would do most (all) the cleaning around the apartment, so you slightly enjoyed having the small break, even if it came with the horrendous cramps.

He would run you a warm bath so that you could fully relax before bed, and whether you wanted him in there with you or not, he would either have a towel in the drier warming up for when you get out, picking out your comfiest pajamas and having the bed set up for you to quickly climb into and fall asleep. If he was in the bathroom with you, he would have a warm rag, holding it against your neck while rubbing soothing circles into your scalp. He would have a few candles lit, burning on the sink counter and the edges of the bathtub, anything to help your mind and your body relax.

All in all, he's very supportive and caring of you when you're on your period, and he just wants you to be in as little pain as possible. He wouldn't hover, but he'd make sure that you had everything you need, plus a couple smaller things that he thought would make you feel a little better, anything to make that little pout on your face turn into a smile.

Chuuya

He knew exactly when your period was due. The dates were marked in his calendar on his phone months before, he had calculated them all accordingly. Not only was it so that he knew when to be stocked up on pads or tampons or both, but also so he knew what days to prepare for your menstrual induced hormone changes. Chuuya knew that your cramps were painful, and he made sure that there was enough Midol and Ibuprofen in the house to last through your entire period.

When he got the alert on his phone that your period was due he was sure to text you immediately. If you said anything about cramping or being in pain he would drop everything at work and come to you, pulling you into his arms as soon as he saw you, pressing kisses along any open skin he could find. "Is my princess in pain?" He whisper, dragging his lips along the shell of your ear. It didn't help that you were far more sensitive to his touch when your hormones were raging, but when he was doing these types of things it made it hard for you to remember that you were bleeding. That is, until another cramp set in and your hands would move up to your abdomen, feeling like the only way to keep yourself from breaking in half was to use your hands to hold yourself together.

You nodded slowly, biting your bottom lip as you waited for the pain to subside. He walked you to the bedroom and helped you into the bed, giving your the fluffiest pillows to prop your head up on. As soon as he knew you were comfortable he would run to the bathroom, grabbing the heating pad from underneath the sink and fill it with warm water. He carefully placed it on your lower abdomen and watched as you took a deep breath, feeling the warmth run through your body and soothe your angry uterus. "You know, I could stop this for nine months if you'd like..." Chuuya said, and you weren't sure if he was serious or if he was joking. His voice was always so stern, so you could never tell when he was being sarcastic and if this was one of those moments.

"Don't make me laugh, it hurts." You said, rolling your eyes at him. He shrugged before kissing your forehead and getting up off the bed. "Well, the offer still stands. How about you get some sleep." He said while tucking you in. He walked out of the room, but how could you possibly sleep with what he said fresh in your mind? Sure, periods sucked and they were painful, but they were definitely not as painful as labor and growing an entire child in your womb.

He sat on the couch and pulled out his phone, he wanted to get you some things, things that would brighten your day. He couldn't exactly make the cramps go away, not right now at least, but he could at least get you stuff to make you smile, make you happy, maybe even forget about the pain for a little bit.

After he finished ordering the items he slid his phone back into his pocket and went to the kitchen. He pulled out the recipe for your favorite meal and began cooking. He wasn't the greatest chef in the world, but he knew how to flavor things well enough that they tasted good, and he didn't burn down the entire apartment complex.

He kept the bedroom door cracked open so he would be able to hear even the slightest whimper of pain from you. If he did, he would turn off the burners and rush into the room, kneeling on the floor next to the bed and holding your hand, helping you breathe through the cramp. He would get a wash clothe and run it under cold water to dampen it before placing it on your forehead. He knew that you would sometimes work up a sweat when your cramps got really bad, and he wanted nothing more than for you to be comfortable.

When he finished cooking dinner, if your periods were really bad, he would serve you your dinner in bed. He would sit next to you, both your legs stretched out, balancing your plates on your laps. He would have his laptop in between both your legs, loading up either your favorite movies or watching YouTube videos that would make you chuckle lightly. He adored your laughter, and he loved hearing it, especially after hearing your whimpers of pain, it let him know that you were okay.

After eating he would take your plate and stack it on his and place it on the bedside table, he would get to it later, all he wanted to do now was hold you close against him. Chuuya cuddles always helped you to forget about your cramps, and sometimes, almost like it was magic, having his arms around you was better pain relief than the pills in the cabinet. You would bury your face in his chest while he sang to you softly, the vibrations in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat, and the soothing tone of his voice all mixed together was enough to have you falling fast asleep.

He would cradle you a little longer before slipping his arm out from underneath you ever so carefully, making sure to not wake you with the movement. He would clean up the dinner mess, not wanting to leave anything out that you would try to clean yourself. He didn't want you to feel like you had to strain yourself while you were on your period, even if you told him that you wanted to help clean he would quickly object your offer and tell you to go get comfortable on the couch or in the bed. After he finished cleaning he would make his way back into the bedroom, his arms outstretched, knowing that you would habitually gravitate towards the warmth of his body. When you did move into his arms they would enclose you, keeping you close against him, his lips softly brushing against your temple, your forehead, and your cheeks before he allowed himself to fall asleep as well.

Chuuya... this boy... he wanted only the best for his Queen. If you were in pain, he would do anything to stop it. (That offer of stopping it for nine months was legit, he would do ANYTHING). You could ask this boy for anything and he would do it. Hugs? GOT IT! Cuddles? He's already on the couch with his arms outstretched waiting for you. Kisses? Honey you don't need to ask, his lips are on yours before you can even ask. Everything he does for you is done out of love, and he fricking LOVES you.

[scattered-shadows]

Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: First chapter is here! Compared to the previous stories from the AU, this might have very long chapters, like more than 10 pages in google docs long. But anyway, tag list is open, and yeah. Enjoy the first of a rollercoaster of emotions.

This whole first chapter also, is me giving brief backstories of what happened before/backstories of many characters here. Basic plot is mine, characters are not. This is all for fun/entertainment/emotional anguish. 

Masterlist

Chapter 1

When one is at their breaking point, everything begins to change.  The lines between right and wrong are blurred, and one’s moral compass begins to spin into oblivion. 

9:00 p.m. 

Laughter filled the almost empty space of Viva Polo, having closed for the night except for a table occupied by Lee Mirae, Park Chanyeol, and Kwon Hyuk. The rest of the tables had already been overturned, marking the end of another day at work, at least for Chanyeol. The three of them had a tradition of meeting up every week, something they started doing after the previous adventures they had. 

The three of them were mutants, and to their knowledge, they were the last surviving members of the group that saved the country, if not the world during the Seoul attack. A year after that, the three of them found each other again, reuniting to save the country once again from an evil cult bent on achieving utopia through taking control of its citizens. Two adventures that had major consequences on the three of them, and events that they will forever remember. 

Two of them, Mirae and Hyuk, were classified as omega-level or level 5 mutants, with powers that were impossible to surpass by any other mutant thus far. Mirae was not only gifted in a mastery of hand-to-hand combat, both armed and unarmed, but she had the gift of manipulating potential energy into kinetic energy. She could turn virtually any object into an explosive and if channeled to an extreme extent, was able to level a skyscraper. 

With her abilities came the secondary gift of a healing factor that made her almost immortal and slowed down her aging immensely. Because of her ability to manipulate energy, she was also able to generate static that resulted in a very strong psychic block that was only made stronger by another omega-level mutant, Jang Ino. From the adventures she had on her own and even after the Utopian cult, another ability manifested itself in her; taking souls and trapping them into objects, usually her deck of cards. 

Meanwhile, Kwon Hyuk, a well-known music producer and songwriter, was a level 5 telekinetic and could move anything with his mind. His psychic abilities also gave him the gift of producing shields that were almost impenetrable. 

 In their adventure into the Utopian cult, Hyuk developed his telepathic abilities, which he used to extract memories or read into memories of others. Hyuk was nearly captured by the goons from the Utopian cult when they met again, and has since tried to use his powers as discreetly as possible with some difficulty. 

Hyuk didn’t formally join Mirae and Chanyeol until the later days of the Seoul attack, having laid low, undiscovered by Ino who was at the time, serving his father Professor Inhwan Jang. Hyuk had openly used his powers in front of the group during a time when Mirae and one of her other colleagues, a telekinetic named Luhan, were affected by the goblin king’s inducement of traumatic memories that caused their powers to manifest for the first time. 

It was there that Hyuk realized that he could do so much more with his mutant gifts, rather than use them solely for trivial purposes.

Hyuk had a cousin, the singer Lee Midam, who was under his entertainment agency, in the 10-member group called Silver. Midam was, like him, a psychic, but of a different kind. Midam was a psychic that could make the worst fears or strongest desires of another person come to life before them. Midam also had the ability to sense when a person will die in the near future. 

Park Chanyeol was a level 4 pyrokinetic, also known as an alpha-level mutant. He created and manipulated fire in all its aspects, from turning into a fire being to being able to put out and set fire onto virtually anything. In his fire form, he was granted the ability to fly and heal and even out of his fire form, Chanyeol could withstand extreme heat. 

He worked with Mirae in the Center for Paranormal Research upon his discovery by Ino, leaving his work in his mother’s Italian restaurant behind to find purpose for his abilities. For some time after the Seoul attack, Chanyeol thought he was the only one left, until he was seen by another survivor, their tech guy Choi Junhong, looking over the remains of what used to be the Center, the epicenter of the entire attack. 

From the adventures they had, the three of them still managed to continue with their lives. Hyuk stayed in his agency to work on music, Chanyeol helped around his parents’ restaurant and live club, while Mirae ran the music store that she took ownership in after the passing of her adoptive parents. Hyuk and Chanyeol also helped other mutants like them, Mirae’s old colleagues from her days as an assassin under a sanitarium, practice controlling their powers. 

With the way the events of the past years shaped them, their lives would forever be intertwined and they knew it. Even with the disagreements that occurred in the final days of the Seoul attack, with the three of them being the only survivors from that group that acted, they were like family to each other. 

“One of these days, we’ll go on a mission, do something, just the three of us again,” Chanyeol said fondly, finishing the last slice of pizza from his place. 

“Even if we don’t go on something like that, we should still do something, just the three of us,” Mirae repeated with a grin. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

“Yeah, someone needs to watch your back this time, you nearly got your powers taken away,” Hyuk pointed out, taking a sip of his iced tea. 

The last adventure Mirae went on involved a demon and their followers, the one responsible for a long-running conspiracy that went behind the glitz and glamour of the country’s entertainment industry. Mirae was outmatched and captured, her powers being used to channel the summoning of the demon Ose. It left her boyfriend Yunho and her half-brother San, along with her old colleagues including immortal mutant billionaire Kang Yeosang, to be the ones to save her and the world. 

Mirae shook her head. “It was only one time. Just one. But I’m starting to think I’m losing my touch, to be honest,” She looked down at her now-empty plate. 

“I wouldn’t think of it that way if I were you,” Hyuk patted her shoulder. “You still have your powers, don’t you? Didn’t Junhong say your powers only got stronger after that? You’re practically invincible.” 

“Says the person who is also practically invincible,” Mirae grinned. 

“But I don’t heal like you do. Chanyeol doesn’t even heal like you unless he sets himself on fire.” 

“Can you stop talking about injuries now? I think we’ll be late for that training session both of you promised the guys,” Mirae nudged the telekinetic. 

Chanyeol got up at the mention of the training session. All of their plates floating in mid-air, the cutlery and glasses sorting themselves out, as Hyuk followed the taller male into the kitchen, making sure nothing dropped. Mirae smiled to herself as she removed the tablecloth and the napkins. 

The boys at the safehouse would be waiting for them, San and Yunho included. Choi San was her half-brother, and had almost the same abilities as her, including her healing factor and a mastery of martial arts. Unlike Mirae, who channeled her powers mainly through her extendable staff, San channeled his into a harpoon gun. 

San’s powers first manifested in his high school years, as a result of the constant pressure placed on him by their father, who wanted him to pursue a career he himself wanted. Upon learning how to control his abilities better, San ran away from home, eventually learning the skills he knew to become a paid hitman. San also witnessed Mirae getting taken away to be interned at the sanitarium, and he looked everywhere for her.

Jeong Yunho was Mirae’s boyfriend. Yunho was also like her, skilled in hand-to-hand combat, both unarmed and armed. Yunho was also a mutant, an immortal mutant who possessed the ability to teleport, but could only do so in dark places. 

Yunho’s powers manifested when he was killed in Morocco during what would be Mirae’s final mission before she was discharged. Her memories of him were seemingly erased in the final electroshock therapy session used to alter her recollection of missions. They only found each other again when Mirae was being targeted by the Kang crime family, descendants of Yeosang who held a disdain for mutants. 

Hyuk returned from the kitchen. “What’s that smile about?” He asked. 

“Nothing, nothing, I just realized how it’s been a while since we did something like this together,” Mirae replied. 

“Lee Mirae, you’re getting sappy.” 

“Did I lie?” She laughed. 

“No, but that’s weird of you,” Hyuk laughed as well. “I mean you are right. I’ve been busy practically managing the group, Chanyeol’s busy here, we’re just busy living our lives.” 

“My point stands that we’ve never done anything together in a while, unless those goblins come up again and try to kill us,” Mirae joked. 

“Hopefully not,” Said the psychic, the table in front of them turning itself over on top of another table. “Even with the way things ended back then, I’m glad the three of us found each other.” 

The kitchen doors opened and Chanyeol returned, wiping his hands, with his backpack in tow. “Whose car are we using?” He asked. 

Without another word, the three of them extended their fists. Both Mirae and Chanyeol had scissors, while Hyuk’s hand remained curled into a fist. “Guess it’s yours then, Mr. Psychic,” Mirae grinned. 

“Be glad I stopped for gas before coming here,” He gave them a look as they left the restaurant. 

~ 

The car pulled up in front of a brick-walled building that had a vending machine. It was the entrance to the safehouse that now became the headquarters of everything mutant-related. It was also where Mirae’s old colleagues were now staying, with the exception of two; Jung Wooyoung and Park Seonghwa. 

The three of them got out, sensing the slight change in the air as they approached the machine. They knew there was a sort of cloaking over the spot that shielded anyone from seeing that the vending machine moved to the side to reveal a secret passage. Chanyeol, Mirae, and Hyuk entered the dark passageway and stopped at the red door at the very end. 

The safehouse was similarly modeled to the recreation room in the Center for Paranormal Research, with a couch and beanbags surrounding a flat-screen television and several game consoles. There was a sleeping quarters and a shower area and a kitchen that was only stocked with instant food. Ino and Junhong’s labs and offices were in the two other doors in the kitchen area that had a small dining table where they would at least take turns in eating. 

This time, the safehouse had since expanded thanks to Ino’s ability to manipulate matter. Junhong’s lab was much bigger, more beds were added to the sleeping quarters, and there was a small training room that Junhong fortified. A shelf was behind the television, showing all the weapons carried by the group of men who now resided in the place; a rapier, a set of nunchaku, and a few axes and shurikens. Those belonged to three people: Kim Hongjoong, Choi Jongho, and Song Mingi. 

All of them were trained assassins, skilled in hand-to-hand combat both unarmed and armed. While Mirae and Yunho were no longer part of the group, the remaining members were turned into personal guards of the Kang crime family and underwent several experiments to turn them into super soldiers. All of them were impervious to pain and were a lot more agile in their movements. 

It was those experiments that triggered the mutant gene in each of them, their own mutant abilities manifesting around the same time. Hongjoong possessed superhuman speed and could be as fast as the speed of light that also enabled him to heal if wounded. Seonghwa was a telekinetic, whose powers also made itself known if his eyes and fingertips glowed green. Mingi, like Chanyeol, was also a pyrokinetic, but unlike Chanyeol, could only manipulate flames that already exist. 

Wooyoung on the other hand, possessed the ability to turn into a shadow being. His shadow form allowed him to be intangible, as well as give him superhuman strength and a healing factor. But along with his shadow form, Wooyoung developed a kind of extrasensory perception, where he could see past and future events from a person or an object, or even a name. 

Jongho had the painful ability to manipulate his bone structure, and his arms and legs would produce a sharp spike that could pierce anything. 

They immediately noticed that a few other weapons were shelved, as they were likely in the labs or in the training room; a set of sai, katanas, a bow and a quiver full of arrows, and the harpoon gun. Everyone was indeed present. 

“Hello?” Hyuk called out as they closed the door behind them. 

“We’re here!” Chanyeol called out as well. 

“Yunho? San?” Mirae spoke, looking around the empty living room. 

Suddenly materializing in front of them was Ino. “Good! You’re all here! The rest of them are in the training rooms, but can you wait a little bit? There’s something I’m finishing and I hope the three of you can test it out for me,” He said. 

Jang Ino was a prime example of a true omega-level mutant, with abilities so powerful he was almost like a god. Ino had the gift of manipulating matter, inter-dimensional teleportation, telekinesis, telepathy, duplication with sentient clones, intangibility, precognition as well as the ability to see everything as it happened. Ino’s abilities manifested much later than the rest of them despite not being much older than Chanyeol, Hyuk, and Mirae, and thus had more difficulty trying to control each of his abilities. 

“Really? What is it?” Mirae asked as Chanyeol put down his backpack while she put down her staff. 

Ino looked excited. “Another training room, or…?” 

“Another Danger Room,” Hyuk nodded. “Can it not turn into a vortex manipulator again?” 

“I can’t promise that, but it’s as safe as ever, right? Just like old times,” Ino was beaming. “Ah, well, you might as well see it for yourself. I’ll call the rest of them,” and he disappeared. 

“Are we supposed to wait for them here?” Chanyeol glanced at them, and they shrugged. 

A commotion erupted from the door that was Junhong’s lab, making them turn around. “For a telekinetic, you could’ve aimed better! You could’ve killed me!” Hongjoong appeared, shooting Seonghwa a look. 

“You sped away in time! You knew it wasn’t going to reach you anyway!” Seonghwa argued back. 

“Well I wasn’t able to, not when Mingi keeps playing with that lighter of his! It’s like having to pass by a dragon each time I’m next to him.” 

“So your situation is actually my fault, is that what you’re saying?” Mingi spoke, looking at them incredulously. “I was practicing my pyrokinesis the way Chanyeol hyung showed me, right, San?”

“Stop including me!” said the male who had a visible white streak in his hair similar to Mirae’s. 

“This was a department store-bought shirt and Jongho just had to ruin it!” Wooyoung shrieked, pointing to the tears in his sleeve. 

“Welcome to my world, Wooyoung! Live with it!” Jongho shot back.

“At least I don’t have spikes coming out of my sleeves and pants!”

Chanyeol and Mirae exchanged looks. Hyuk stifled a laugh. “Kind of reminds you how much we bickered back then, huh? I bet those guys would’ve loved to see a repeat of this,” He chuckled. 

“Nothing seems to have changed after all,” Mirae laughed, their reactions making the group stop in their tracks. “We just had dinner,” She explained. “I see training’s been going well?” 

“Not so much when the rest of them bicker more than San and I do,” out of the group came Yunho, who immediately swept her up in a hug then exchanged high fives with Hyuk and Chanyeol as he pulled away. 

The taller form of Junhong appeared from the crowd as well, with scorch marks on his lab coat and a hole in his clipboard. Ino had materialized again as well. “So, the Danger Room, Junhong?” Hyuk asked. 

“Yes, yes, the Danger Room,” Junhong led them to the pair of doors on the other side of the space. He pushed the button, the doors opening up to reveal a dark room covered in what looked like steel tiles. There was a panel of buttons near the doors from the inside and on one side of the room, was a booth. “Ta-da!” He announced, looking over at the three of them, while the rest looked amazed. 

“A little shift in elements here and there, I was able to expand this entire space of ours, make it a little more familiar, don’t you think?” Ino smiled. 

Mirae approached the panel of buttons near the side. “Ice fortress, dystopia, post-apocalypse, zombie invasion, alien invasion, gladiator arena,” She read out. Mirae turned to the next set of buttons and looked over at Junhong. “Why is my name at the top of this panel? Am I a level of difficulty?” She asked, looking puzzled. 

“The highest,” Ino spoke. “But that level’s reserved for the three of you, not that these guys can’t do it, but the three of you are more experienced.” 

“San and Yunho are just as experienced, if you ask me,” Mirae pointed out with a shrug, choosing not to argue any more. 

“Yes, but they’ve never been through the same missions as you and Chanyeol did back at the Center, remember?” Ino reminded her. “The creatures at the museum, the goblin warriors at the train station, and their throne room, and the jewelry store at night?” 

“I remember the jewelry store one,” Hyuk said, glancing at her. “We were coming from dinner when the store exploded. It was the time I found out Mirae was a mutant.” 

Mirae smiled at her friend’s recollection. “Yeah, you came from that singing competition too.” 

Chanyeol grinned. “The train station, I remember that well. Everyone hated us when they saw what was happening in broad daylight. Junmyeon got hot coffee thrown at him...” He looked down the more he remembered. 

Ino noticed Wooyoung squinting at him, the rest of them looking fascinated by their brief trip down memory lane. “Well, I thought I’d show the rest of them how the three of you would do things in these simulations. Hyuk, I know you joined us late at the time, but you still know a thing or two on how to handle non-human entities, right?” He said. 

“Oh yeah, I was with you all at the Esteholm,” Hyuk smiled. Sensing everyone else’s confused expressions, he chuckled. “It’s a hidden marketplace for non-humans, goblins, witches, warlocks, ogres…” 

“You mean those things were actually here all this time?! On this planet?!” Mingi gaped at him and they nodded. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll have a lot of time to talk about that later, but let’s have the three of you take this new Danger Room for a test run?” Ino suggested. “The rest of you follow Junhong into the booth, we’ll all watch from there.” 

“What are we taking on?” Mirae asked. 

Hyuk approached the panels. “What about…” He stopped when he read the mode at the bottom. “Evil villain mansion? What kind of mode is that?” He laughed. 

Chanyeol and Mirae laughed as well. Mirae glanced at the booth, giving a thumbs up to Yunho and San, who looked excited as did the rest of them. “It’s exactly what it is. The mansion of the bad guy,” Junhong said from the booth. 

“Alright then, put up the difficulty rate to my name, I guess,” Mirae said. 

“That’s what I had in mind. Initializing evil villain mansion, Lee Mirae difficulty,” Junhong announced. 

Hyuk backed away, until he was back to back with Chanyeol and Mirae. They heard tiles shifting and a swirling of colors all around them, bringing in a strong gust of wind. Mirae took out her staff from her jacket pocket and extended it. After a few moments, the swirling was disappearing, and they found themselves in what was the ballroom of a large, abandoned house that had some bits of modern technology on the locks of the doors and the windows. 

“Okay, so this is the evil villain mansion,” Chanyeol mumbled as they took in their surroundings. “Where’s the evil villain, then?” 

Mirae took a step forward, seeing two metal circles near the large fireplace. There was a seven-pointed star engraved on one circle, a hexagon that had the shape of a keyhole in the middle engraved on the other. The circles began to turn, until it slowly went up to reveal coffin-shaped tubes. 

“This is oddly specific,” She muttered. 

Hyuk and Chanyeol stared at the tubes as well. The closer they looked, they saw bodies, blackened and as if they had been mummified. “This is very specific,” Chanyeol nodded, feeling a chill down his spine as they approached the tubes. 

Back at the booth, the rest of them stared at what was happening. “Can they see us?” Jongho asked curiously. 

“I don’t think they can, can they?” Hongjoong glanced at Junhong, who was looking at the panels of controls. “But the surroundings look so real.” 

“I know I should be used to this, but this is something I’ve never seen before…” San was staring at the tubes that were opening up in front of the three. 

“Me neither, and I thought I’ve seen everything,” Yunho nodded. 

From the side of the room, Wooyoung could suddenly see flashes of scenes in his head. He looked back at what was happening, seeing Hyuk, Mirae, and Chanyeol nearly destroy the surroundings they were in as humanoid demons with large talons began to attack them. The flashes kept coming. He could see people he hadn’t seen before having been inside the very booth they were in. Yet, Wooyoung wasn’t sure if this had already happened or it was about to happen. He stayed watching the simulation that Mirae, Hyuk, and Chanyeol were in. 

~ 

“Kind of familiar, isn’t it? The train station,” Mirae’s eyes and fingertips were glowing as she sent shockwaves towards the two demons, but to no avail. Instead, the demons clapped their hands, sending similar shockwaves towards her. “They’re parrots.” 

“What do you mean parrots?” Chanyeol had transformed into his fire form, dodging the attacks that were coming towards him. 

“They’re copying everything we do,” Mirae spun her staff a few times before hitting the demon, only to be sent back by the other, who had turned into a fiery figure as well. 

“Can they copy this?” Hyuk waved his hand, sending the two demons in mid-air. His eyes widened when the figure also raised their claws at him, lifting him up and off the floor. “This is impossible-” He crashed into the wall, moving away when some of the decor fell down. 

“Looks like Junhong had his work cut out for him,” Chanyeol tried to burn down the doors of the room until the surroundings changed into what looked like a massive dock full of zeppelins and tables full of volatile chemicals in test tubes and beakers. “Yeah, now I can see why Mirae turned into a level of difficulty.” 

“Let’s try not to touch anything, or interact with anything on those tables,” Mirae looked around on alert. 

They heard a blast from all the way on the other side of the room. “Looks like they found us,” Hyuk said, trying to move the zeppelins as carefully as possible towards the source of the blasts. 

“Those might explode if you let them get blasted,” Chanyeol called out at the telekinetic. 

“Would you rather we get out of here with those? We don’t even know what to use these for” Hyuk pointed out, still trying to move the airships as the blasts grew louder, the impact exploding the tables closest to it. “At least they get blasted and we don’t-” 

Boom. 

There was a blast on their side of the dock, sending the three of them to the floor, as bits of shrapnel and the chemicals on the tables exploded. A large cloud of smoke enveloped them, soon revealing that they were no longer at the dock. They were back in the Danger Room, or at least what was left of the Danger Room.

Mirae opened her eyes, feeling considerably beaten as she looked around, surprised at what she was seeing. Her clothes were scorched, her staff was gone, and from the gust of wind that hit her, she realized what happened. 

The safehouse seemed to have exploded. 

Mirae looked around for a sign of Chanyeol and Hyuk. Was she still in the simulation? “Mirae! Mirae! Mirae! Are you alright?” She turned around, seeing Junhong, Yunho, and Hongjoong run up to her. “The machines overloaded when I was about to take you three out of there,” The tech guy explained. 

She nodded, a feeling of dread suddenly overcoming her as she looked around the area. “Chanyeol? Hyuk?” She called out, kicking away a few bits and pieces of the rubble that surrounded them. “Chanyeol-” She stopped, feeling her heart sink. 

Chanyeol was lying on the floor, a puddle of blood near his head, and bits of shrapnel having hit his sides. Mirae looked around for a sign of the telekinetic, only to realize that he was also lying on the floor, eyes glazed over. A piece of shrapnel hit his head.

“Chanyeol, Hyuk,” Mirae bent down, moving the rubble away from her best friends. She refused to believe it, refused to think that what happened really happened. “Chanyeol, Hyuk,” She took one of the sharp rocks and cut open her wrist, pouring some of the blood into where Chanyeol was hit. “Come on, both of you, this isn’t funny,” She saw that they weren’t moving while her wrist had already healed. 

Junhong bent down to check Hyuk’s pulse, only for his expression to fall when he realized there was none. “Mirae,” He tried to say. 

“No, I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t believe you,” Mirae shook her head profusely, crawling up to Hyuk. Tears were already falling from her eyes as the reality was hitting her bit by bit. “No, no, this can’t happen, not here, not now, no,” She patted his face, but no response. “No, Hyuk, no, don’t, please-” A sob escaped her as she held his body. “Hyuk, no, no, no, no, no,” She sobbed, reaching out to hold Chanyeol’s hand that was going cold. “No, please no, Chanyeol, Hyuk, you two can stop it now, please…” 

“Mirae,” Junhong said again. 

Hongjoong and Yunho exchanged looks, hearing the rest of their colleagues including San appear, all of them had traces of the smoke from the explosion on them. 

“No!” Mirae shook her head again, until she broke down. They were gone. Her best friends. Gone.