#…she’s trying though. sometimes. eventually.

[sunsetmade]

can you write about how Rafe and the reader always call each other pet names (like baby and sweetheart) ans they aren’t dating but they don’t realize they do this until someone like sarah calls them out. thank ya!

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!!

Goodnight, Baby

Rafe Cameron x Shy! Reader

Rafe Cameron had a way of saying things that made her heart trip over itself.

Not in the loud, sweeping, rom-com kind of way—though, admittedly, when he leaned in a little too close or let his voice drop into that gravelly rasp, it sometimes felt like the air thinned and the world tipped slightly on its axis. But mostly, it was subtler than that. More internal. The kind of flutter that tugged at her ribs and burned behind her cheeks. The kind that made her fingers nervously twist the hem of her sweater as she avoided his gaze, knowing full well the teasing smirk he’d be wearing.

And he knew. God, he definitely knew what he was doing.

“Hey, baby,” Rafe said, his voice casual, almost careless, as he opened the front door of Tannyhill and stepped aside to let her in.

Her stomach flipped. That word—baby—spilled from his mouth like it belonged to her. Like it wasn’t dangerous at all. Like it wasn’t laced with weight and meaning and a thousand unsaid things. He said it like they weren’t just best friends. Like it wasn’t reckless for her to let her heart leap every time.

She ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she slipped past him into the house. Her shoulder brushed his chest, and she swore she felt him lean just slightly into the contact before the door clicked shut behind them.

“Hi,” she said gently, her voice small but sweet, eyes trained on the floor tiles as her heart thudded against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

Rafe grinned. One of those lazy, cocky grins that always meant trouble for her composure. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world to stand there and watch her unravel.

He loved this part—the soft blush creeping across her cheeks, the way she got all quiet and bashful when he so much as looked at her too long. She didn’t even realize it, but she was the only person who ever brought out something warm in him. Something patient. Something kind.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and teasing as he followed her into the hallway, his steps unhurried behind hers.

She nodded quickly, too quickly, still not meeting his gaze. “Mhm. I came a little early, sorry.”

He stepped closer—slow, deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing and how it would make her freeze in place.

“ ‘S okay,” Rafe murmured, voice low and rough. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

Her breath hitched before she could stop it. Her first instinct was to look away, hide from his icy blue eyes like she always did when he got too close, too gentle. But he wasn’t having it. He reached out, calloused fingers brushing lightly beneath her chin, coaxing her face back up to his.

His thumb traced the soft line of her jaw. Warm. Careful.

“Don’t hide that pretty face from me, sweetheart.”

There it was again. Sweetheart.

The second nickname—the one that felt more tender, more dangerous than baby, and that was saying something. That word always hit her like a soft punch to the stomach. She didn’t know which one made her melt more—or ache more.

“Rafe…” she breathed out, a little whine escaping before she could stop it, her eyebrows furrowed teasingly.

He gave her that look—that cocky, slow-burning smile that was all teeth and playful arrogance, but somehow softened at the edges by something warmer. Something real.

“What?” he said, like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing to her.

“You always say stuff like that…” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because it’s true,” he said easily, shrugging like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just turned her insides into syrup.

She didn’t respond—she couldn’t. Her brain was too busy trying to reboot.

Eventually, like always, they ended up in his room.

It was their place. The unspoken routine. The space where things slowed down, where it didn’t matter that the rest of the house belonged to the Camerons and the world outside didn’t know what to make of them. Up here, it was quiet. Safe.

She sat on his bed the same way she always did, legs folded underneath her. Rafe collapsed beside her with a sigh, limbs sprawling across the mattress like he owned every inch of the space—which, to be fair, he did.

Sometimes he scrolled through his phone or channel surfed without really watching, while she read or softly told him about her day. They never really planned it, but somehow hours passed like that—comfortable, warm silence that buzzed with something unspoken just under the surface.

Today, she’d brought snacks in a little lunch box she use to use, pretzels and candy she knew he liked. She placed them between them, and when he saw them, his eyes lit up in that quiet, boyish way that made her chest squeeze.

“You know you don’t have to bring stuff,” he murmured, popping a pretzel into his mouth and leaning back against the wall. His voice was soft now—lower, like they were the only two people on Earth.

“I like to,” she said gently, her tone almost bashful.

He turned his head just slightly to look at her, eyes settling on her face like he was memorizing it. “Baby,” he said, almost like a sigh. “You’re too good to me.”

There it was again—baby. And the way he said it, all low and familiar, like it wasn’t driving her absolutely crazy inside. Like it wasn’t unraveling her thread by thread.

It sounded like it belonged coming from him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

Every time he said it, her stomach tightened, and that ache behind her ribs grew heavier—like the truth was sitting there, pressing against her chest, reminding her that she wanted something she couldn’t ask for. Because they weren’t dating. He wasn���t hers. He was just her best friend.

Her handsome, infuriating, impossibly charming best friend who treated her like she meant the world, who called her baby like it was second nature.

She didn’t want to risk losing him. Didn’t want to ruin the soft, slow thing they had by wanting too much.

So she smiled, small but genuine, and looked away.

“Thanks,” she said softly, staring down at the snacks like they might give her an answer. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He chuckled, a low hum in his throat, and nudged her foot gently with his. “Yeah, yeah. I owe you.”

But he was still watching her. She could feel it. That stare of his—sharp and quiet and warm all at once. Like he saw everything she didn’t say.

And all she could do was hope he couldn’t hear how loud her heart was thudding—or see the way her fingers were curled into the blanket just to keep them from reaching for him.

They were halfway through some dumb, half-watched movie when the door creaked open.

“Rafe, Rose wants to—” Wheezie’s voice cut off abruptly. “Oh.”

Wheezie stood frozen in the doorway, blinking like she’d just walked into the middle of something she wasn’t supposed to see. Her eyes flicked from Rafe to his bestfriend tucked into his side, taking in the soft lighting of the bedroom, the quiet buzz of the TV in the background, the way his arm was lazily draped over her shoulders—fingers drawing slow, absentminded circles on the fabric of her sleeve. Their legs were touching. And how she was leaning into him like she didn’t even realize.

Wheezie tilted her head, curiosity already taking root. “Why do you call her baby?” She asked deciding to get the burning question she’s been dying to know off of her mind.

The question landed like a pin dropped into still water—barely a sound, but it rippled.

She froze, her pulse skipping like her body hadn’t caught up to her mind. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught. She could feel Rafe’s fingers still on her arm, but he didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

Instead, a small, smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he replied smoothly, glancing at his sister like she was the one being weird.

Wheezie squinted at the two of them. “Because you’re not dating… right?”

Her entire face flushed. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, crawling down her neck, making her wish she could shrink into the mattress and disappear. Rafe, on the other hand, chuckled under his breath. That low, familiar sound that meant he was enjoying this far too much.

But then his eyes slid sideways—to her. Not just glanced. Looked. Really looked, like she was the only person in the room that mattered.

He didn’t answer.

“Rafe,” Wheezie pressed, now crossing her arms with all the boldness of a little sister who smelled something suspicious. “That’s not an answer.”

He grinned wider, that easy, arrogant grin that always made her nervous. “Go tell Rose I’ll be down in five.”

“That’s still not an answer!”

“Wheezie,” he warned, the playful edge in his voice soft but final.

She groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she turned to leave. “Whatever. You’re so weird,” she muttered under her breath before disappearing and pulling the door shut behind her.

Silence lingered.

She slowly shifted, pulling away just enough to feel the cool air hit the space where his body had been warming hers. She stared at the blanket pooled in her lap, carefully not looking at him to get her cheeks to cool down.

Rafe shifted beside her. “You okay?”

She nodded, but it was too fast. Too practiced. “Yeah.”

“You’re blushing,” he said softly, tilting his head toward her like he already knew the answer.

“Rafe…” she said his name with a quiet warning, already flustered, already spiraling.

He leaned in just a little, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. His voice dropped, teasing. “Did that make you nervous?”

The smirk on his face said he knew exactly what he was doing. He always did.

She swallowed. “You didn’t answer her.”

“No,” he agreed, his voice low. “I didn’t.”

Her throat tightened. “Why not?”

There was a pause, stretched thin and quiet.

Then his hand brushed against hers on the bed, fingers grazing hers once—twice—before gently slipping between them, like he’d been waiting for permission that never came but hoped for anyway.

“I like how it sounds,” he said quietly. “Calling you baby.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers tightened just slightly around his.

“I like the way you look at me when I say it,” he continued, voice hushed, almost hesitant. “Like you’re about to melt, but you’re too sweet to tell me to shut up.”

“I’m not too sweet,” she whispered, barely audible, eyes locked on their intertwined hands.

He turned his head slowly, his gaze dropping to her lips for a fleeting second before finding her eyes again. “Nah,” he murmured, “you are.”

She exhaled shakily, pulse fluttering. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” She faltered, the words catching in her throat. She didn’t have an answer that didn’t sound like a confession.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Because it makes you feel something?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But the look on her face said everything.

He pulled back just a little, giving her space, but his hand stayed laced with hers, warm and steady.

“I’m not trying to mess with you,” he said after a long beat, the teasing gone from his voice. “I just… I don’t know. You’re the only person I feel good around. Like, really good. Like I can breathe.”

She blinked, slowly turning to look at him. His voice had softened in a way she rarely heard, and something in her chest tugged hard.

“And calling you baby?” He gave a faint smile, a small shrug. “It’s not just a nickname. It’s the only way I know how to show it sometimes. That you’re… different.”

The room felt heavy. Charged. Thick with all the things they hadn’t said yet.

She didn’t say anything right away—just let herself lean in again, gently resting her head against his shoulder like it was instinct, like it was home.

“You’re different for me too,” she whispered into the fabric of his shirt.

He stilled, then exhaled slowly. His breath was shaky this time.

Neither of them moved. The movie flickered on the screen, long forgotten. Outside, the house made its usual quiet creaks, but in here, it was just them.

Eventually, Rafe shifted, sliding his arm around her and tugging her closer until she was tucked beneath his chin, legs draped over his lap, her cheek resting against his chest. His fingers started moving again—soft, slow patterns against her back.

“Still blushing?” he asked, voice barely above a murmur, lips brushing the crown of her head.

“Yes,” she admitted, biting her lip to keep from smiling.

He chuckled. “Good.”

She groaned. “Rafe…”

“Hmm?”

She turned her face up just enough to peek at him, eyes narrowed. “You like making me blush.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

She rolled her eyes, cheeks burning brighter, but her smile gave her away. “You’re impossible.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, unhurried. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Her heart stuttered—once, then again—and this time, she didn’t look away. Didn’t hide it.

She just let it happen. Let him hold her. Let herself fall a little more.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel reckless.

It just felt right.

⸻

Later that night, when the sky had melted into dark navy sprinkled with stars, and the last light of day clung to the tops of the trees, Rafe walked her out to her car. The breeze was warm and slow, carrying the quiet hum of cicadas and the scent of summer grass. The whole world felt still—like it was holding its breath for them.

She glanced sideways at him as they reached her car, keys dangling loosely in her hand, heart fluttering like it always did around him. Rafe moved ahead and opened the car door for her without a word, leaning lazily against it with one arm braced above her, the other casually resting in his pocket. He was close. Always close.

She turned to face him, eyes soft. “Wheezie’s gonna ask again.”

His mouth tugged into a lopsided smirk. “Yeah. Probably tomorrow.”

“What are you gonna say next time?”

Rafe didn’t move for a second. Just looked at her with that unreadable glint in his eye, like he was weighing something. Then, with quiet confidence, he leaned in—crowding her gently between the open car door and the warmth of his body.

“That it’s none of her business,” he said, voice low and teasing.

She giggled, eyes dropping shyly to the space between them before flicking back up to his. Her cheeks were already warm.

Rafe’s hand slid up to her waist, squeezing lightly, grounding her. His other hand reached up, slow and deliberate, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. But his fingers didn’t leave right away—they lingered, brushing lightly against her jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek like he couldn’t help it.

“Or,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers, “maybe I’ll just tell her the truth.”

Her breath caught. “What’s the truth?”

He looked at her like she was something fragile and brilliant all at once—like she was a secret he’d been dying to say out loud.

“That I’m working up the nerve to ask you to be mine.”

The air stilled. Her chest rose sharply with the breath she forgot to take, her eyes wide, heart thudding so loud she was sure he could hear it. Her fingers curled slightly into the hem of her shirt as she stared at him, face tingling with heat.

“Yours?” she asked softly, voice barely there.

Rafe nodded once, gaze never wavering. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

She looked up at him and something in her face softened.

“I like that,” she said quietly, her lips lifting into a bashful smile.

His brow raised slightly. “Yeah?”

She nodded, cheeks glowing, and before she could overthink it, he wrapped both arms around her waist and tugged her flush against his chest.

“So you like me, baby?” he teased, his voice low and rough, his breath brushing against her ear.

She let out a nervous laugh, face burning as she buried it against his chest, hiding from the intensity of it all.

He chuckled, deep and raspy, his chin resting lightly atop her head. “Say it, baby girl.”

She hesitated, her voice muffled against him. “I like you, Rafe.”

He smiled—she felt it more than saw it, the way his body relaxed, the way his arms tightened just a little around her.

“I like you too,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of her head. She stayed tucked into him, neither of them in a rush to pull away.

For a few long moments, everything felt still again. Easy. Like this was always where they were meant to end up.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look down at her, his hand brushing her cheek one last time.

“Goodnight, baby.”

She gave him a look—sweet and shy and impossibly full—and stepped into her car, her fingers trembling slightly on the door handle as she shut it.

As she drove off, windows down and wind in her hair, her heart was floating somewhere above the clouds.

She didn’t stop smiling the whole way home.

[householdcryptid]

Cockwarming anon again! Dude… that fic was so fucking good, i’m still reeling from it. Like, read it multiple times, squealing and kicking my feet 🙈❤️❤️❤️

So, I offer you this idea as a little thank you (also apologies in advance if this sucks, i’m not a writer, i’m just extremely thirsty and bobpilled rn);

So they’re not fucking, right? But they’re also technically not not fucking.

It’s taken Bob a little while to actually process what’s going on, and what exactly he’s feeling. It takes him a little while to figure out that, sure, he’s getting comfort, but there’s something else in there, something deeper, more primal.

He develops little fixations, and right now he’s fixated on her thighs. He doesn’t know how he’s never noticed them before, how soft and supple they look. Pure comfort. He finds himself wanting to touch them at all times, and she lets him without question, of course, but it only makes him worse.

He’ll sit closer to her so his legs can press against hers as much as possible, he’ll grab them under the table at meals. He’ll even ask to lay his head on them when they’re watching movies together. Slowly escalating, pawing, rubbing his face against them like a cat, sweating, whining, drooling, until his head is enclosed between them, face pressed against against her core. Panting, shaking, eyes closed in complete bliss like he’s finally found heaven.

Just wait until he figures out that he’s a munch.

babe i know you said you arent a writer but you SHOULD be holy shit 😵‍💫 also thank you! i'm so so so glad you liked the last one 🩷🩷🩷

i'm thinking about doing a part two to this just so i can write about him getting pussy drunk tbh he deserves that. # bob reynolds is a munch

cw: rob bein a nasty lil freak, uhhhh scent kink(? kind of?), nsfw but no real sex, reader knows robby is a weirdo and is Totally into it, talks of addiction (not a lot but mentioned), short because i got sick 💔👎, hope you enjoy 😌🩷

It starts off small. It always does with Bob. One tiny thing that snowballs into an addiction, and leaves him reeling. Once upon a time it was morphine, and then worse, but now? Now it’s you.

Small things— things no one but him would notice. The way you smile when he tells you about his day, no matter how boring it is. The way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight, the way you glow.

More recently though, he can’t stop thinking about your legs. He’ll sit in the gym and watch you spar with Walker or Yelena, not understanding why the sight of their hands on you makes his skin crawl.

Instead of focusing on that feeling though, he zeroes in on your legs. The way they tense up, strike out to catch your opponent in the gut, the way they look when you have them wrapped around someones neck, pinning them to the ground.

They’re beautiful, even when you aren’t fighting. He finds himself drawn in, big warm palm sliding over the fabric of your sweats to knead at your thigh mid movie night. He isn’t trying to be a creep, isn’t making any attempt to get handsy, just wants to feel the plushness of it in his grip.

It devolves quickly. Gentle squeezes turn to fingerprint bruises that he feels genuinely awful for. You don’t ever mind, though. Your best friend is just tactile, he doesn’t know his own strength sometimes, and it’s not like you’re complaining, so why is he upset?

He stops squeezing as much, but it leaves something of a hole behind in his day to day. An ache he can’t explain, a longing that feels bone deep. Until you pull him to lay his head on your lap one day, and he’s found a new thing to be hooked on. Revels in the way the plush skin bows under his cheek, how you always end up petting through his hair. It ends up being a surefire way to put him to sleep, eventually.

It’s just too comforting. To have your attention on him so completely, your fingers in his soft curls and his cheek smushed against your soft thigh.

One day, the tower is empty, save you and Rob. He’s twitchy, strung tight like a rubber band ready to snap, skin buzzing with a power he still doesn’t understand and doesn’t think he deserves.

But you’re there, too, and that helps. Pulling him in with gentle hands, and he expects the usual. His head on your lap, your hand in his hair, but you shift. Your knees part, and you pat your tummy invitingly.

“I wanna lay down too, goofy.” You explain, laughing softly at his puzzled expression. He can’t stop staring long enough to come up with a verbal response. You’re wearing shorts, cotton boxers that pull taut at your thighs, dimpling the skin a bit, and his mouth waters.

His sigh is heavy and tremulous when he nuzzles his face against your stomach, lays flat on his front between your legs, arms wrapped up beneath your thighs, his hands splayed under your lower back.

“S’better.” He mumbles, lashes fluttering as he breathes in the scent of you. That’s where it starts, really. Your scent.

Warmth, clean sweat and a heady musk that makes him a little dizzy, he seeks it out. Noses down your tummy, wriggles southward until his face is buried between your thighs.

You giggle— honest to God giggle— and heat licks up his spine.

“Sorry-” He mutters, not making any attempt to actually pull away. “M’sorry. You smell so good,” He whispers, hands sliding to press your thighs closer around his head, nosing at your cunt through the soft material of your shorts. “S’so fuckin’ warm here.” He croaks out, just on the edge of a whine, nails biting into your supple skin.

“It’s okay, Robby,” You murmur, ever so indulgent, especially when he’s whining against your clothed core, already drooling into the fabric. “You can stay. You’re good, bubs.”

He almost sobs at the reassurance, brain going blissfully empty when you squeeze your thighs around his head gently.

He’s trembling just a little bit, huffing these shakey breaths against your core like he can’t quite catch his breath, pretty blue eyes unfocused and heavy lidded. Blissed out on just the smell and the feel of you, the way your thighs block out the sound of the room and the constant buzzing in his brain when they press to his ears.

He falls asleep like that, mouthing at your cunt through the shorts, letting out short little whimpers and huffy groans, your fingers in his hair and your thighs pressed to his ears.

You can only sigh, slip into a nice catnap as well, knowing full well the whole process will begin again when he wakes up.

[penelopehere]

How Rumi’s Parents Met HCs

a/n: Ryu is the name of Rumi’s mum

I personally believe her parents met when Ryu was by herself, patrolling the city when she spotted a demon lurking in an alleyway

Naturally she went to investigate, attacking instantly when she got close enough

However the demon didn’t fight back, merely defending itself and then disappearing as soon as it could

At first she thought it was strange, but just brushed it off as she went back to patrolling

However, when she spotted the same demon a couple days later, the exact same thing happened

She attacked, and he disappeared in an instant

This simultaneously confused and annoyed her, with Ryu now going out of her way to find that specific demon

She told her team about the unusual situation, but was reassured that he was nothing the hunters couldn’t handle

Regardless, Ryu still went out to get answers

It was weeks until she managed to corner the demon, pinning him against the wall with her blade to his throat 

She asked why he was in the human world, growing more frustrated as he remained quiet for a few moments

He then said if she was going to kill him that she should just get it over with, which threw Ryu off long enough for him to slip away and disappear

From there a pattern would emerge, with the two of them frequently crossing paths when Ryu was patrolling alone

Unbeknownst to her, the demon was actually seeking her out, wanting to talk more

She’d basically interrogate him about his life as a demon, trying to find his intentions for not attacking her

However, from these questions she’d learn he wasn’t loyal to Gwi-Ma, trying to escape his voice

While Ryu was sceptical at first, the two of them grew closer, with her even answering the demons questions about her

That’s when she realised she genuinely cared about the demon

Not knowing how to handle these feelings, she instantly went out of her way to not see him

Eventually she began seeing him everywhere; in the crowd during concerts, in the corner of her eye when she was on patrol, sometimes even outside her house

However, he’d manage to get Ryu by herself, asking why she’d just leave him and that if she wanted to end things she should say it to his face

They’d definitely argue, saying that whatever they had shouldn’t even have happened since they were so different

The demon would eventually leave, promising not to find her again if she really felt that way

Months would pass, with Ryu missing him more and more

Even the other members would notice, but she’d just say she was stressed about maintaining the Honmoon

She’d try and find the demon again when she was on patrol, with no success

Eventually, when she was alone, she’d start talking to herself; asking him to come back

The moment those words left her mouth, he’d appear; neither of them talking when they locked eyes

From there the two would confess their feelings for one another, despite the two being a demon and hunter, allowing for their relationship to properly start

She wanted to tell Celine, but anytime she brought up the topic of demons, she saw the anger and resentment in her eyes

So instead they kept their relationship a secret, dating for years as Ryu made sure the other hunters never found him

At some point they would get married, merely exchanging rings as a symbol of their union rather than doing anything official

However, when she fell pregnant, she knew she would have to come clean

I believe this caused a falling out with the hunters, with Ryu disappearing since she knew they would never accept her new lifestyle

She continued to hunt demons for as long as she could, doing it from the shadows so her former group couldn’t find her

Her husband would help her during this, using his demon abilities to his advantage and fully taking over when Ryu became too pregnant though

When Rumi was finally born, neither one of her parents knew how to raise such a unique child

At first they were cautious, meticulously noting down her demon attributes and any behaviours they thought were abnormal

However, they very quickly grew not to care about her differences and focused on making sure she was happy

Rumi lived a rather sheltered life with her parents, staying home most of the time until around the age of three

At this point I believe Gwi-Ma heard of a rogue demon that was helping a hunter, sending all his underlings to capture them

Their family remained hidden for a while, however the demons managed to track down the area and they lived in

Not wanting to leave the humans of their city in danger, and knowing that no matter where they went Gwi-Ma would find them, they tried coming up with a plan to defeat him

However, Rumi’s father knew that this was practically impossible, and decided to face the overlord alone

He quietly said goodbye to his family, leaving them in the middle of the night

Ryu knew exactly why he had gone when she realised he was missing, not knowing how to go after him while also protecting Rumi

Eventually, she’d run into Celine who had heard about the concentrated number of demons in the area

Seeing Rumi with her demon markings, everything clicked into place and Celine was horrified

Instead of explaining herself, Ryu pleaded with her to understand that Rumi was still her daughter

This managed to convince Celine to take care of the child while Ryu went to go look for her husband

I believe they would only reunite at the final battle, with demons trying to drag her husband back to the demon world

In the process, civilians were being killed as well, Gwi-Ma managing to slowly make his way topside because of the influx of souls

Here Ryu would do her best to protect everyone while saving her husband, the two of them reuniting amidst all the chaos

This would catch Gwi-Ma’s attention, with him directing all his resources towards capturing the hunter and her demon husband

The pair would manoeuvre around the city, trying to draw the mob away from the public

In the end though, they knew what they had to do

Charging to Gwi-Ma, they lured all of the demons back into his flames in an attempt to push him back in the underworld

This worked, however, at the cost of Ryu and her husband’s life

Celine witnessed the carnage, unable to stop Ryu’s sacrifice since she was taking care of Rumi and trying to direct all the civilians to safety

Celine blamed Ryu’s demon husband on all this, vowing to never let another corrupt those she loved

Therefore, despite being half demon herself, she raised Rumi to hide and despise her demon side

[ruebossanova]

professor o'connell: the mini series - 2

college prof!billie x student!reader

word count: 2.0k

warnings: older!billie x younger!reader, slowslowslow burn, eventual smut, college life, hella tension, quiet/shy reader

summary: liora, a quiet student at westburn college, becomes increasingly drawn to her enigmatic professor, billie, after billie reads her writing aloud in class. subtle glances and intimate conversations blur boundaries, leaving liora shaken and longing. by night, she writes about the feelings she can’t name—haunted by billie’s presence, and unsure if what’s growing between them is safe, or inevitable.

masterlist

————————————————————————————

thursday came like fog. slow, quiet, cold at the edges.

liora stood outside the classroom door for a second longer than she needed to, pretending to check her phone, pretending her palms weren't a little sweaty. it was silly. it was just class. just a room. just a woman who had only said her name once.

still, her fingers tingled as she pushed the door open.

billie was already there.

this time, she sat on the edge of the desk, one foot resting on the seat of the chair in front of her, her elbow on her knee. she wore a dark crewneck and soft gray trousers cuffed at the ankle. her hair was loose today—longer than it looked when tied back, falling in lazy waves across her shoulders.

she looked up when liora walked in. didn't smile, didn't speak—just watched her.

liora swallowed and took her seat in the same row as before. second from the front. close, but not too close. not enough to be obvious.

a few more students trickled in. someone bumped into liora's desk and muttered sorry. she didn't answer. her attention stayed locked on the front, even though billie wasn't doing anything except... existing. which somehow still managed to occupy all the space in the room.

"okay," billie said finally, pushing off the desk and stretching her arms slightly. her voice cracked the silence like warm water on cold glass. "anyone want to volunteer what they wrote?"

silence.

a few people shifted in their seats, avoiding her gaze. someone in the back coughed. billie gave it a beat, then raised an eyebrow.

"cowards."

soft laughter. liora smiled without meaning to.

billie glanced at her notebook, flipped it open, and scanned something with a faint nod.

"fine," she said. "i'll read one."

the class perked up slightly. she looked around the room, pausing for a beat before she said it:

"liora rai."

liora blinked. she felt her stomach drop in the way it does when the rollercoaster starts moving and it's too late to get off.

"you mind if i read yours?" billie asked. "you didn't mark it private."

liora didn't remember marking anything. didn't even remember breathing properly when she turned it in.

but now billie was waiting. so was the whole room.

"sure," she said quietly.

billie nodded once, then began to read. her voice low, unhurried, like she was reading a letter.

"some songs don't need lyrics. they're already saying too much. maybe that's why i like the sound of strings. they don't try to explain anything. they just feel. and sometimes, that's all you can do. feel. even when you're not ready to."

liora couldn't look up. she stared at the edge of her desk, tracing the grain of the fake wood with her fingertip. the room was too quiet. no one laughed. no one whispered. just silence.

billie cleared her throat.

"i liked this one," she said, voice softer now. "not because it was polished. it's not. but because it's honest. and you'd be surprised how rare that is."

liora finally looked up.

billie was looking directly at her.

and something in her expression—something small, something unreadable—shifted.

"thanks for letting me share it," she said.

liora nodded, barely. "yeah. sure."

but inside, her pulse was a wildfire. and she wasn't sure if she was relieved or terrified that billie had seen so much.

class let out five minutes early.

people took their time gathering their things, maybe because they were shaken by how personal everything felt. maybe because billie had read aloud from someone's soul like it was nothing. liora moved slowly, unsure if she felt exposed or seen—or if there was a difference.

her notebook was still open on her desk, the edges slightly curled from her grip. she reached for it, but stopped when she heard footsteps.

"liora."

she turned.

billie stood next to the front row, arms crossed loosely, voice quiet.

"can i talk to you for a sec?"

not a question, not really. but soft enough that it felt like one.

liora nodded. followed her instinctively toward the side of the room near the windows, out of earshot from the few students still packing up.

billie didn't speak right away. she leaned against the sill, looking out for a moment like she might say something else entirely. then her eyes flicked back to liora.

"i didn't mean to catch you off guard with that," she said. "i should've asked you first. properly."

liora shook her head quickly. "it's okay. i just wasn't expecting it."

"no one ever is," billie said, almost to herself. "but you handled it. people don't always."

liora looked down. "i just wrote what came out. i wasn't trying to be good."

"that's exactly why it worked."

a pause. long enough for liora to feel the silence stretch between them like thread. thin, taut.

billie shifted slightly. she wasn't looking at her like a professor would. not like someone older trying to teach or correct. it was something gentler. more curious. like she was trying to read her again, the way she had read her words.

"do you play?" billie asked suddenly.

liora blinked. "music?"

"yeah."

"a little. mostly violin. not well."

billie smiled, barely. "i doubt that."

liora felt something in her throat tighten. she looked at her feet, then back up. "why?"

billie met her gaze. "you write like someone who hears things deeply."

liora didn't know what to say to that. didn't know how to respond when someone saw through her so fast. she just nodded, heart stuttering.

someone called out a goodbye across the room. billie waved a hand in return, but her eyes stayed on liora.

"you ever want to talk music outside class," she said, softer now, "i'm usually here early. before nine. or in the practice rooms after hours."

liora's breath caught.

"okay," she said.

billie's mouth curved into something close to a smile—but only for a second. then she turned, walked back toward her desk, and picked up her bag like the moment hadn't just changed something.

liora stood there a second longer than she should have.

then left, carrying a silence that felt heavier than words. liora didn't go back to her dorm right away.

instead, she wandered. across campus, past the edge of the quad where someone was setting up folding chairs for a student film screening, past the old music building with its ivy-covered windows and faded paint. her boots scuffed softly over the stone path, every step somehow echoing.

everything billie said replayed in her head, not in order, not even clearly—just little shards of sound:

you write like someone who hears things deeply. if you ever want to talk music. before nine. after hours.

she didn't know why it stuck the way it did.

maybe it was nothing. maybe billie said that kind of thing to everyone. maybe it was just encouragement. professional. polite.

but it didn't feel like that.

it felt personal. not inappropriate. not obvious. but intimate, in a way liora couldn't explain without sounding ridiculous.

she ended up sitting in the music building stairwell, notebook in her lap, pen hovering.

the building was quiet. not silent—there was a soft hum of a cello from somewhere upstairs, distant and slow. but the air itself felt still. like the walls were waiting.

she opened to a blank page. started writing.

sometimes the words are fine. sometimes they say exactly what you mean. and still, it's not enough. not because they're wrong. but because they're too quiet. or maybe i am.

she paused, tapped the pen against her chin. then, lower down the page, she added:

i think she hears the quiet parts, too. i don't think that's fair.

her pen stopped moving. she closed the notebook. her fingers pressed into the worn cover.

on a whim she hadn't planned, she stood and walked quietly down the hall.

just to see.

the door to the faculty practice rooms was closed, locked as usual after hours—but the light under the door flickered faintly. someone was in there.

she didn't knock.

she stood there for a moment, just listening. waiting. hoping—for what, she wasn't sure.

then turned and left, the sound of a piano key lingering like a held breath behind her. friday morning came slow.

gray light filtered through liora's window as her alarm buzzed quietly at 7:43. she stared at the ceiling for a while, then sat up, heart already pulling toward something unnamed.

her roommate mumbled something in her sleep, still cocooned in blankets. liora didn't bother saying goodbye. she dressed in silence—black leggings, oversized hoodie, hair pulled into a soft, low braid that hung between her shoulder blades.

she didn't know why she was going in early.

she told herself it was to use the printer. or to revise her notes. or maybe to drop off something at the front office, even though she knew she wouldn't.

she just wanted to see her. maybe not even talk. just... see.

the classroom door creaked when she opened it, just before 8:50. she expected the room to be empty.

it wasn't.

billie was there. alone. sitting cross-legged on the floor by the whiteboard, back against the wall, earbuds in. her laptop rested beside her and a coffee cup balanced on a thick novel she clearly hadn't touched yet. her head was bowed, long hair falling around her face in a curtain, fingers scribbling in a composition notebook.

liora froze in the doorway.

billie looked up.

there was a second of recognition. then—

a soft, lopsided smile.

she pulled one earbud out. "morning."

liora swallowed. "hi. sorry. i didn't mean to interrupt."

"you're not," billie said. she set her pen down, eyes soft but unreadable. "just journaling. i do it before class, otherwise my brain doesn't shut up."

liora nodded. "same."

billie quirked a brow. "what time does yours usually stop talking?"

liora gave a quiet laugh. "hasn't yet."

"mm. dangerous."

liora's heart stuttered at that. not the word. the way she said it—low and casual, but weighted, like it meant something more.

she walked to her usual desk and dropped her bag slowly. billie watched her the whole time. not staring. just... noticing.

"you're early," billie said.

liora shrugged, fingers fidgeting with her sleeve. "couldn't sleep."

billie leaned her head back against the wall, looking at her upside-down. "you write anything last night?"

liora hesitated. "some."

"was it honest?"

liora nodded. "too honest."

a beat of silence passed. billie tapped her pen against her knee.

"that's the best kind," she said again, softer this time.

liora's fingers tightened around the edge of her desk.

billie sat up straighter, stretched her legs out, and glanced toward the clock. "we've got ten minutes."

liora blinked. "until what?"

billie met her eyes, and something in her expression was quieter now. more careful.

"until the room stops being just ours."

liora couldn't answer. not really. not with words.

so she just sat there. breathing, listening to the clock tick, watching billie lower her gaze back to her journal like nothing about that moment was dangerous.

but it was. and she knew they both felt it. the rest of the day passed in pieces.

liora moved through it, but not in it. she answered questions when people spoke to her. nodded at professors. ate half a sandwich she barely remembered ordering. but everything felt a little off, like her body was two steps behind her thoughts.

her mind kept circling back to that morning. to billie. to the way she'd said: until the room stops being just ours.

she had meant it as a joke, maybe. or maybe not. maybe that was the whole problem — it was impossible to tell where the edges were with her. nothing about billie felt standard. nothing about her felt safe.

and liora wasn't sure if that scared her, or made her want more.

she spent that night curled up at her desk, the soft hum of music playing from her speaker — something instrumental, no lyrics. she couldn't handle words right now. hers were already too loud.

her notebook lay open beside her laptop. blank page. staring back.

she didn't know what she was trying to write. she just knew it was there, somewhere under her skin, and it needed out.

after a while, she started, slow:

i'm not trying to want this. i'm not even sure what this is. but i know how it feels. like walking toward thunder. like the space between two notes where silence is too loud.

she said it like it was nothing. but i think she felt it too.

her hand stilled.

she didn't finish the page. didn't close the notebook, either.

instead, she leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, the soft glow of her desk lamp casting blurred shadows on the wall. outside, it was raining — the kind of quiet, steady rain that made everything feel further away.

except her.

billie.

she was still too close. in her thoughts. under her skin. and now, there was no unfeeling that.

[gremlin-girly]

Comic Relief

Characters: Alexei Shostakov x gn!reader (platonic), Thunderbolt!reader, The Thunderbolts

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, copied or put through an AI machine. All of my work is 18+ Read at your own risk.

Tags/warnings: A smidgen of angst, fluff, canon typical violence, Little Bolt as a nickname haha

Summary: As the newest member of the team, you don't believe Alexei is as dumb as everyone thinks he is.

Word count: tba on mobile

Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

A/N: 💀 Might make a part 2 to this but I have so many WIPs right now. I had a tower fic in mind for this but wasn't sure which way to go. It may cross over with it eventually.

A/N2: Ignore that this was posted without being edited last night 😅🥴

Main Masterlist

Goofy is probably the first word that comes to mind when describing Alexei. Followed by big, loud and (according to Yelena) annoying.

However, as the newest member of the team you can pick up on things that the others take for granted. And you begin to suspect that perhaps Alexei isn't as dumb as everyone thinks he is.

For example, his ability to make the team bond together.

Team Game Night usually devolved into some kind of argument, usually between Walker and Yelena, although surprisingly Bob was sometimes subject to a competitive streak. Game night had been Alexei's idea, however, you began to notice that he'd do well in whatever game it was to begin with and then lose spectacularly via a dumb mistake. More often than not, he would sacrifice himself so Yelena would win and his face would light up as she excitedly boasted in John's face.

If the night got too heated, Alexei would stand up, gather the New Avengers together in his hulking arms and squeeze them tight in a bear hug until they called down. It was a sigh to behold and one you couldn't help but think was needed.

One night, after another spectacularly dramatic loss from Alexei, you pulled him on it in the kitchen afterwards.

"I know you know you could have won," You whisper. "Why do you do it?"

"Ehhh," He shrugs. "The kids need comic relief and I am the best comedian." He's grinning, still trying to act aloof, but you can see in his eyes that there's something a little deeper beneath the surface.

You nod and say nothing more, not wanting to push but the thought stays in the back of your mind.

"God, you're an idiot."

John's temper flared after a pretty bad night fighting the newest, baddest villain in town and he wasn't the only one to be angry.

"Dad, why would you think to do that?" Yelena sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You could have gotten us killed. You need to stop trying to play hero."

"Yeah, not all of us are super soldiers." Ava grumbles.

"Welcome home!" Bob exclaims, face falling when he takes in everyone's grumpy, beaten faces. "O-Oh no. What happened?"

"Don't wanna talk about it." John huffs past him, leaving Bob confused.

You watch silently as everyone disperses to wind down but hang back for Alexei. He looks like a kicked puppy as he removes his helmet and, thinking back to the fight, images flash through your mind. You quickly realise that had Alexei not done what he had done, the team would have been crushed by a metal beam - however, he had played it off as him picking it up so as to not freak them out about your imminient deaths and protecting the surrounding civillians.

"Hey," you say softly. "You okay?"

"I am Boo Boo the Fool." Alexei says dejectedly, kicking off his boots. "Joke of my country. Joke of my family."

"No, you're not." You tell him sincerely, though his phrasing makes your lips twitch upwards.

"Lena is right." He shrugs. "I am no hero."

"Alexei." Your voice is soft but firm and you put a comforting hand on his gigantic bicep. He looks up to see you smiling at him. "What you did today - those people you saved - they think you're a hero."

"They do?"

"Yep." You nod before adding, "And so do I."

Alexei's expression immediately brightens. "You do?"

It's tighter than it needs to be and you're unsure if he's trying to show off his strength or crush you with cuteness-aggression but either way you think you snap a rib.

"Thank you Little Bolt." He says as he places you back on your feet, gold tooth flashing in the lighting above. "You know exactly what to say."

Another day, another fight. Except this time, Alexei is the last one standing.

Yelena, Ava, John, Bucky and you are disarmed amd tied up, unable to fight back. Ava and Yelena are wrapped in chains, Ava too close to Yelena to phase out without causing her serious harm and Bucky and John have lost a metal arm and taco-shield - leaving them vulnerable to tranquiliser bullets. You, on the other hand, are trying to kick your way from a henchman after being handcuffed - leaving Alexei as the last man standing.

"Who even let you join?" The villain of the week sneers. "You're an ingrate. Your friends and daughter will die because you're incompetent. What do you even offer this team? Comic relief?"

"I am mother goose." Alexei nods sagely. "Someone has to protect my goslings from themselves."

If John could roll his eyes, he would be and you bet Bucky would do one of his character sighs. As Yelena and Ava continue to fight at the chains, you do what you have always done; watch.

"You're a nobody." Villain dissmisses. "No one will remember you, canon fodder. You've lost one daughter, now you will lose another."

You can see the subtle shift in Alexei's demeanour, the way his eyes quickly lose their mirth while his goofy grin remains plastered to his face. Most importantly, you notice how he very slowly, sets his body into a rigid fighting stance.

Alexei isn't playing anymore.

It all happens so quickly you barely see it. Despite Alexei's size and mass, he moves horrifyingly fast. He usually charged in with a battle cry; excitable for battle just like a certain axe-wielding blond you happen to know, but this wasn't a fair fight anymore. As soon as his daughter's life - daughters' lives - were mentioned, all intentions of a good old fashioned beat 'em up brawl were off the table. No punches would be pulled. No bones unbroken.

This was indomitable spirit.

This was the Red Guardian.

The villain was held easily five feet from the ground, Alexei's bear-paw of a hand squeezing his throat so hard his face had gone purple and his eyes looked like they were ready to pop from his skull. The villain squirmed and smacked at the trunk of an arm that held him in vain, pleading with the darkness in Alexei's eyes, clearly terrified and surprised at the shift in what he'd mistakenly thought was an oaf. The henchman that had been trying to get at you also stops dead to watch the spectacle, and you take the opportunity to land a boot to his chin.

"You don't speak about my daughters." Alexei growls.

Even Yelena and Ava and stopped fighting their bonds to watch on in shock as Alexei hurls the villain to the opposite side of the room with ease, rushing over to the two women and snapping the chains with his hands.

"Are you two okay?" Alexei asks, checking them both over quickly.

"'M okay."

"Fine, dad."

The villain's body slides across the floor, crunching when it slams against the concrete wall, and he groans in agony.

You join them, hands now free courtesy of your captors keys, and look over at the sad, crumpled pile of dark clothes.

"You couldn’t have done that sooner?" You joke and Alexei beams, standing tall and proud.

"Where is the fun in that, Little Bolt?"

END

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[osohchoso]

Shattered Ice

Chapter Eight- Stargazing

Hockey player!Choso x F!reader, ex bf!Toji x F!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Class list | Chapter 9 Coming soon!

Content: college au, hockey au, drinking, party games, vomiting, suggestive content MDNI

Choso art by @aransmind png from @thepngpixie dividers @cyberangel-graphics

You had never seen so many players in the penalty box. Suguru sat beside Choso, a palm pressed to the goalies back as Choso’s head hangs between his hands. Sukuna, Hiromi, Yuki, Kento, Yu and a few others you don't recognize; all of them smashed inside the box together.

All hell had broken loose the second Choso skated off the ice. The team had his back, immediately taking their rage out on the other team for Toji’s aggression. Screw hockey, this was more like fight club.

Moral of the story... never fuck with a goalie.

The Assassins were now leading by two points, the Curses struggling as many of their best players were off the ice. You recognize some of them as freshmen, struggling to fill the shoes of their upperclassmen. They were trying their best, but they just weren’t as experienced.

Haruta had the puck, skating toward the opposing team's goal when it was stolen right from underneath his nose. The opposing player passes the puck to another teammate, who shoots it easily into the Curse's goal. If Choso was out there, he could have stopped it easily, but instead it was Mahito, who still has a lot to learn.

They were fucked.

The last few minutes dragged by painfully. For the first time this season, your team has lost. The defeated players make their way back to the locker room. You spot Choso, lagging slightly behind, Yuki at his side patting his back as they disappear from view.

“Woah…that sure was something,” Satoru comments as he kicks back in the chair, resting his feet on the empty seat in front of him. “Seriously, who knew Kamo could fight like that?” 

“He always could” Eso chimes in. “Though he is usually pretty laid back, he will snap if you say the wrong thing.”

That only makes you wonder what your ex could have said to piss him off so bad. There was no way it was just the usual hockey trash talk, he hit a nerve. Something personal.

“He once got suspended in high school for fighting.” Eso continues. “Yuki had a crush on some older guy, asked him out, and got turned down right away. Him and his friends then spread hateful rumors around the school about her, destroying her image and confidence. Choso couldn’t stand to see his friend so upset, so he took him and all his friends on…and won.”

“Yuki!?” Shoko chimes in, now fully paying attention at the sound of her friend’s name. “Like our Yuki? Yuki Tsukumo?”

“Yes, they went to high school together. You didn’t know that?” Eso cocks his head to the side, his brows knitting together in confusion. To him, it seemed like such obvious information. It surprised him that none of you knew. You and your friends all shake your head no. “Even though she was a grade above, they were best friends. Possibly Choso’s only friend that wasn’t us.” 

You had no idea that Yuki and Choso had so much history. He never mentioned it before. But as you think back on it, it made sense. At the after parties, the two always seemed to be near each other, teasing each other and laughing. Sometimes during stretches, you noticed them goofing off, racing around the rink, and smacking each other with their sticks. You never thought anything of it before. 

You want to ask more, learn more about his past and this friendship you never knew about.

“Hey Eso,” Kechizu taps his brother’s shoulder to get his attention. “It’s getting late.” Yuji was asleep on your lap. His eyes could barely stay open the last few minutes of the game, eventually lolling his head to the side until it rested against your shoulder. 

“You're right, we have a long drive too.” The two of them stand from their seats. “Come on Yuji, it’s time to go.” His hand gently shakes his sleeping brother. 

“Don’t wanna!” Yuji grumbles, turning to cling tighter to you. You let out a slight laugh and hug him close.

“You need to go to Yuji, but I’ll come see you again soon. I’ll have Choso take me to your tee-ball games when they start. How does that sound?” He peers up at you with round eyes, still glossy from sleep.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” You assure him, locking your pinky with his. This seems to comfort him enough to leave. One last hug and he hops down to join his older brothers.

“It was nice meeting you, we are going to say bye to Choso and head back.” Eso wraps you in a hug of his own, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Take care of Choso for us, I know he can be a handful sometimes.” A deep rumble of laughter from his throat, reminding you so much of his older brother. 

“I will,” you murmur back. He pulls away and scoops Yuji into his arms before he could start to complain how tired his legs were. “Drive safe! It was nice meeting you!” You call to the three of them as they leave toward the locker room. 

Your friends decide to wait until the arena clears out more before attempting to leave, not wanting to deal with the crowds as everyone rushes out. Leaning back in your chair, you listen to their conversations, Satoru and Utahime constantly bickering as Shoko eggs them both on for her own amusement. You only half pay attention, your mind wandering over the events of tonight. 

You have to admit, Choso looked good while fighting. All sweaty and bloody, it did things to you. Made your heart skip a beat while a fire was lit in your core. But the fact that your ex was the whole reason for the fight made you feel uneasy. Just a bad feeling about whatever Toji might have said to him.

“Right…ready to go?” Satoru’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “Ready to return to Sukuna’s Domain.” He mocks the name, offering you a hand. You grab it and he hoists you up from the chair.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You stretch your limbs, sore from sitting for so long.

The sky was dark, the last fleeting traces of the sun fading on the horizon, stars waiting for their turn to shine. Though being in the city, you never could get a great view of the stars. That is something you miss about home. Some nights, you and your family would just lie outside and look up at the glittering sky, your dad pointing out all the constellations and explaining the myths surrounding them, which you memorized over time.  

Satoru leads your group over to where Suguru is, his back leaning against the metal railing while talking to Kento and Yu. The three of them look up when they hear footsteps, Suguru’s bright smile on his face at the sight of his boyfriend.

A loud sound from the side makes you jump. You spin your head in the direction to see Choso, he dropped his oversized equipment bag on the pavement before plopping down on a bench away from the large forming group. He hangs his head over his lap, palms on his temples as his fingers grip the wet hair of his bangs.

“I'll catch up with you later.” You turn to Shoko, who gives you a concerned look. 

“We will be leaving soon y'know, I don't want to leave you here alone.” You can hear the guilt in her voice from the last few times you have been abandoned. 

“I won’t be alone.” You point at Choso with your thumb over your shoulder. Shoko gives you a sly look. “I’ll meet up with you at the party, I promise.”

“Fine, but call me immediately if something goes wrong.” She pulls you into a tight hug while adding. “If he doesn't return you in one piece, I will retrieve my medical tools from the lab and perform an emergency castration.” 

“Shoko!!”

She releases you from her grip, shrugging and sticking her tongue out at you. Rolling your eyes, you walk toward Choso’s direction.

He doesn’t look up as you approach, the grip on his hair tightening. You sit down next to him, your side pressed against his. He smells good, the blood scrubbed clean during his post-game shower.

“Hey,” he murmurs somberly, he doesn’t need to look up to know it’s you.

“Hey.” You echo. “Don’t rip your pretty hair out.” He instantly drops his hands at your words, fingers gripping his kneecaps. His knuckles were red and irritated, a testament to the harsh beating Toji received. Yet he still doesn’t look over at you. 

“I fucked up…” He sighs. “It’s all my fault. I lost us this game. If only I didn't–” He lets out a loud groan. “If i would have just kept my cool out there.”

“It was one game, Choso. No one is mad at you–”

“It's still my fault!” He cuts you off, sinking deeper into the bench so his head leans back against the wooden back, staring straight up at the dark sky. “If I wasn’t sent off the ice, we would still be undefeated right now. If I just would have…ugh!”

“You can’t just blame yourself, I saw how Suguru, Sukuna and the others defended you. All those guys had your back, they all made the decision to attack and get sent to the box with you. They could have remained on the ice instead of forcing all the newbies out at once. They could have chosen to focus on the game, but they didn't. Losing was a team effort.”

“Guess you're right.” He snorts, finally rolling his head to face you. The streetlamps illuminate his face, making the blooming bruise under his left eye even more obvious. Part of you wishes you could see the damage left behind on Toji. “I just feel awful that I snapped when my brothers were here, when Yuji was watching. I’m supposed to be his role model. I didn’t want him to witness me fighting like that…but I just couldn’t control it. I couldn’t stop myself.”

“What did he even say to you?”

Choso was quiet for a moment, chewing his bottom lip as he debated whether to tell you or not.

“Something that made my blood boil.” He answers firmly, offering no further elaboration. You want to pry for more details, but you have a feeling it isn’t the time, so you drop the issue for now. 

“I covered Yuji’s eyes if that makes you feel any better.” His eyes widen at you. “Didn’t want to have him watch his brother get his ass beat.” You jab, knowing full well you never doubted Choso’s ability to win. Though the teasing comment seemed to have no effect on him.

“You're seriously the best,” he whispers, one of his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you closer, his other hand positions your legs to drape across his thick thigh before resting on top of your knee, his thumb rubbing small circles over the fabric of your jeans. A shiver runs through you when his cold nose meets your neck, hiding his face in your skin. 

“How do you feel?” You ask.

“Sore” His breath is so warm, so close.

You reach for the hand on your leg, gently lifting it up close to your lips. You press feather-light kisses to the raw skin of his fist, causing his breath to hitch.

“I’m sorry, does that hurt?” You pause, worried you were making everything worse. His nose slowly drags across your neck as he shakes his head no. Smiling to yourself, you go back to kissing his injured skin. “You looked really hot today, especially watching you beat my ex.” 

“Shut up!” He laughs while freeing his hand from your grip just to wrap them both around your waist, pulling you even closer, holding on tight like he was afraid to let go. He rested his chin on your shoulder, cheek pressed against your neck. 

If the November air wasn’t so cold tonight, you could have stayed like this forever with him. A chill runs through you, shaking against his body.

“We should get going.” With arms still around you, he slowly stands, forcing you up as well. “Come on, let's get out of here and forget this shit night.” He releases you momentarily so he can sling his hockey bag over one shoulder, his other hand laces with yours as he drags you off toward the parking lot.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

“Happy Birthday!” A chorus of loud voices greet you both the second you set foot inside the house. Friends, teammates, random students. The house was packed full.

“Thanks,” Choso mutters quietly, his face heating up under all the attention. He turns to face you again. “I'll be back. I need to take this up to my room.” He motions his head to the heavy bag weighing down on his shoulder. 

“Come find me later.” You offer a small smile, which he returns. You understand he likely needs a moment alone. To decompress from the events of today before he has to force his social battery to work overtime. He nods, turning and making his way up the creaking stairs that lead to his bedroom. 

Turning around, you scan the bodies in the room, attempting to locate your friends. First, you notice Sukuna, already drunk out of his mind as he tells an exaggerated retelling of a score he made in the past to two girls, twins by the look of it. They appear interested in what he is saying, or at least pretending to be.

“Hey! You made it!” You turn your head in the direction of the voice, seeing a blur of her blonde hair for a split second before Yuki pulls you into a tight, suffocating hug. 

“I told you I would,” you respond once she releases you, allowing you to breathe again. 

“Come on, everyone else is in the kitchen right now.” She places a hand on your back as she ushers you through the crowd. Despite tonight's loss, everyone still seems to be in high spirits. The only one upset is Choso.

Your friends were waiting for you in the kitchen. Satoru was arguing with Utahime about something while Suguru just watched, giggling to himself as he sipped his drink. Shoko's eyes light up the moment you enter the tight space between the sticky tile countertops.

“Here ya go!” She hands you a red solo cup, holding her's out to cheers. You take the cup eagerly and clink the plastic brims together. 

“Just a few drinks,” you say it more like a warning than a statement. “I do not want to end up like the last time I was here. Take it easy on me.” You sigh as you take your first sip, fruit juice and the sting of liquor coating your palate.

“Oh, don't worry, I won't make you go overboard tonight.” Shoko smiles, looking mischievous but her words are genuine. She shuffles closer, whispering for just you to hear. “So…did he kiss you yet?”

“No.” You try to hide your disappointment, but she picks up on it immediately.

“Ugh, what is taking him so long? It is soo obvious you two like each other bad.” 

“That obvious?” 

“To anyone with eyes,” she leans back on the counter behind her as she sighs. “You will get a kiss tonight, I can feel it.” 

“If not by him, then by me.” Satoru invites himself into the conversation, puckering his lips jokingly. You just roll your eyes in response, a small giggle escaping you.

“Ooo! What are we talking about!?” Yuki excitedly enters the conversation. 

“Nothing!” You quickly fire back, earning a suspicious look from the blonde, her eyes narrowed. You weren't sure how much of the conversation she overheard.

It's not that you don't like Yuki, she has always been friendly and fun to hang out with in the past. If it were any other guy, you would have no problem opening up to her. But learning about how she and Choso have history makes you hesitate. Are they really just friends, or was there ever anything more between them? 

“Birthday boy sure is taking his sweet time,” Yuki exclaims dramatically, moving on before things become awkward between you and her.

“Wonder if he fell asleep up there,” Suguru teases.

“Why don't we play a little game while we wait?” She claps her hands together. 

“Sure, what do you have in mind?” Shoko smiles at her.

“Fuck, marry, kill?” She asks, your other friends murmur agreements.

You seem to tone most of it out as you sip your drink, listening to your friends laugh back and forth. No one was off limits; friends, celebrities, professors from KU. But your mind was distracted, wondering if Choso would ever come out of his room or if you should sneak up there to check on him.

“Your turn!” Shoko squeezes your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. Yuki is pouring a heavy hand of tequila into a solo cup as she ponders who to give you as your options.

“Give me a good one!” You challenge, which she returns with a smirk, her eyes scanning the crowd of party guests.

“Okay…Mahito.” Yuki pauses, laughing as you visibly cringe. “Sukuna. And…” Her eyes go wide, a smile on her lips. “Choso!”

“Easy!” You say confidently, not missing a beat, ignoring the fact she is looking past you. “Obviously, marry Choso-”

“What's this about getting married?” You hear his deep voice behind you, his breath brushing past your ear. Yuki hands the drink she was making to him, which he eagerly accepts. Your face heats up in embarrassment. She wasn't listing him as an option…she was announcing his presence.

You catch a glance at him, his hair now fully dried and tied up in his usual spikes. You just barely notice the way his lips mouth the word ‘wife’ at you before taking a long sip of his drink, eyes locked with yours. He breaks off in a cough.

“God damn, Yuki! Are you trying to kill me?” He looks into his cup, disgusted. “What even is in here?”

“Relax, it's just tequila and a bit of juice. It's your birthday, time to let loose.” She clinks the plastic rim of her glass to his. “Once you get this one down, the rest will be easy!”

“Right…” he sighs before chugging the remnants of his drink. He shoves the empty cup into your hands, leaning down so his lips almost touch your ear. “Can you make me another…and something better than whatever she tried to poison me with. Please?”

“Of course.” You wrap your fingers around the cup and move to the counter where the mixers and liquor sit. You set his cup next to yours on the surface, both empty, as you ponder the ingredients. You pour in some tequila, but much less than Yuki used, topping it off with ginger beer and a squeeze of lime.

When you turn around, you see him leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his chest popping tightly from the V in his shirt. You pass the cup to him, his fingertips brushing yours when he takes it. He brings the drink up to his lips, taking a big sip as you watch and wait for his review.

“Ah…you're an angel,” he smiles at you. “This is delicious.” He goes in for another sip before setting it down.

Suddenly, you wish the two of you would have ended up skipping the party and spent the whole night just you and him.

“Oh! Before I forget! I got you a cake!” Yuki runs to the fridge and pulls out a large sheet cake with bright red frosting letters that spell out ‘Happy Birthday Choso!’

“Yuki…you shouldn't have.” He watches as she sets the cake in front of him, Suguru already making quick work to stick in and light some candles. Yuki sucks in a breath of air and opens her mouth.

“Happy-”

“No…please don't sing” his face is already turning red, as he cuts her off. Turning to look at her with pleading eyes “Please.”

“Fine.” she pouts. “But you still have to blow your candles out and make a wish.”

His eyes lock with the flickering flames, thinking long and hard about what he wants to wish for, even though it is an easy choice. His lips part and a gust of air is blown from his lungs, extinguishing the fires. 

Choso backs up from the candles and looks at you, Satoru practically pushing him out of the way to snag the first slice of cake.

“Wanna go outside for a second?” He asks, you nod, grabbing your cup and his as you follow him out to the back porch. He digs in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, taking one out to place it between his lips. His other hand fumbles for the lighter, sparking up the cig. Letting out an exhale, he sits on the porch steps and pats the spot beside him.

You join him, pressing your side into his to stay warm.

“You doing okay?” You nudge him playfully. After another drag on his cigarette, he turns to you and nods.

“Yeah…just was feeling a bit overwhelmed. That's all.” 

“We can sit out here all night if you want.” You offer, taking another small sip from your cup. He lets out a low laugh.

“No matter how much I would prefer that, I know Yuki, Suguru and the others would never let that happen. ‘You can't just sit out here and stare at the sky all night,’” his impersonation of Yuki was spot on. He tilts his head up to the black sky above, a few lone stars dot the sky but nothing compared to the beautiful galaxies you could view in your hometown. “I wish we could see the stars better.”

“Me too. I miss the sky back home, the stars would shine so bright. We could lie back in the grass and get lost for hours and hours.” You feel a bit homesick. Winter break can’t come soon enough. His attention is turned back on you as you speak. “Maybe someday I can show you.”

“I would really like that. My brothers and I have always lived near cities, so I've never had the full stargazing experience.” You watch him put the cigarette out, then reach up to discard it into the ashtray on the railing. After a sip of his drink, he leans his face closer to yours with a slight blush on his cheeks, your heart rate quickens.

“What did you wish for?” you ask, looking deeply into his eyes. 

“If I told you that, it might not come true.” He raises a hand toward your face, the tip of his index finger tracing a path from your temples, down your cheeks and curling along your jaw until he meets your chin, tipping your face up slightly. His breath feels hot on your lips, a contrast to the chilly night air.

Your eyelashes flutter, closing them as you prepare for his lips to meet yours. It was finally happening. His nose brushed against yours, inches from sealing your lips with his.

“Choso! There you are!” Yuki's voice makes you both freeze, Choso moves his face back slightly but keeps his hand on your chin.

“What?” He flashes a side eye in her direction, annoyance seeping from his voice.

“Come on, this is your party! You can't stay out here all night!” She pouts, bending down slightly with her palms resting on her knees. You have to stifle your giggle when you realize Choso so easily predicted her exact reaction. 

“Fine, be in there in a sec.” He rolled his eyes, still not looking her way. The scuffing of her boots on the wooden porch fades as she heads back inside through the sliding glass door. Choso’s eyes focus back on you, giving you an apologetic look for the interruption. “Guess it’s time we head back in.”

“Guess so.” You barely get the words out before he presses a sweet peck to your lips, quick and fleeting. When he releases your face, you notice the smile curve across his lips. As short as it was, it still managed to leave you breathless and craving more.

“Part one of my birthday wishes has already come true,” he announces as he stands up, reaching out for you. You place your hand inside his palm, and he tugs you up to stand next to him, leading you back into the chaos of the party.

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You were pacing yourself, riding the fine line of being tipsy without going overboard. A few drinks here and there to help maintain a buzz that kept you in the party mood.

But Choso was a whole other story.

You had never seen him so drunk. Or this social for that matter. He couldn’t stop hooking his finger in the corner of his lip to show off the chipped tooth from the aftermath of the fight with Toji and bragging about how he was the clear winner whenever someone brought it up. Obviously, he was no longer upset about losing the game. 

Every time someone ran into him, they were offering him another drink, another shot. You honestly lost track of how many he ended up drinking up to this point. You tried to warn him; told him he would regret it in the morning. He didn’t seem to care.

You soon discovered that drunk Choso was also extremely clingy. He wanted you near him the whole night, his hand always somewhere on you. Holding you around your arm or waist, and at one point your hip, his fingers rubbing mindless circles through the fabric of your clothes, almost as if he was itching to remove them and feel your skin against his.

Eventually, your bladder was reaching its breaking point. You tried to slip out of his grasp for a moment, but he caught you by the wrist, tugging you to his chest while his other arm wrapped around you from behind, holding you hostage against him.

“Where do you think you're going?” He purrs, showing no sign of letting go.

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” 

“You're leaving me!?” Though he sounds like he's joking, you know part of him is seriously afraid you might disappear for the night. His bottom lip pokes out in an adorable pout and he holds you just a little bit tighter.

“Choso! I’m going to piss myself!” You scold him under your breath. At your announcement, he immediately lets go, his hands dropping to his side.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” His face turns red in embarrassment. “Uh…you remember where the bathroom is, right?” 

“Yes, I'll be right back. Promise.” You turn and hurry up the stairs.

When you return, his eyes lit up, a smile bigger than you've ever seen him wear. He looked like a puppy whose master had just come home. He wraps his arms around you in a tight hug.

“I missed you, angel.” He whispers with his lips pressed to your hair, his voice low and muffled. You don’t bother reminding him you've only been gone five minutes max, not when he was this happy to have you back in his arms. 

While the party is still going on in full force, some of the crowd has thinned somewhat. Many of the guests turning in for the night or heading out to another party. Most of those who remain appear to be the hockey players and their close circles of friends outside of the team. 

“There you are!” Shoko runs up to you, Choso hesitantly releases you from his grip to allow you to turn toward your friend. “We should do something!” Shoko slurs her words slightly, looking from you to Choso.

“Like what?” You tilt your head.

“Like a game!” She doesn't wait for you to respond before crawling up onto the nearest chair, almost losing her balance in the process. She cups her hands around her mouth to shout into the sea of people. “Who wants to play truth or dare?” 

There is a beat of silence, everyone’s attention turned in her direction. 

“What is this? High school?” Sukuna scoffs at the idea. You can't stand his arrogance, and you are compelled to defend your friend against him. 

“I think it sounds fun, what do you think, Choso?” You look up at him, watching his head slowly nod. You wonder if he even understands what he has agreed to.

“Sounds like a great time!” Yuki chimes in, bouncing toward your group. 

“Alright, if you want to play, meet us in the living room.” Shoko hops down from the chair and leads you and the others toward the open space on the floor, taking a seat on the carpet. You pick a spot across from her and Choso obediently sits beside you. You were surprised to see how many people ended up actually joining. Satoru, Suguru and Utahime, of course. But also Kento, Yu and Miguel. Hiromi walks over with a large slice of cake, taking the spot on Choso’s other side. Even Sukuna, despite his first reaction, decided to join in the end. 

“Alright, everyone knows how to play, right?” Shoko gets everyone's attention, hearing a chorus of yeses amongst the circle. “Good. Let's start”

“Wait,” Choso’s voice pipes up. “What if someone doesn’t want to answer or do the dare?”

“Chicken.” Sukuna taunts him, which Choso seems to either not hear or ignore.

“Then you have to do a shot!” Yuki holds up a bottle of tequila for everyone to see. 

“Fine.” 

The game starts, most of the focus away from you two. Satoru seemed to steal the attention without fail, he answered every question and did each dare without a second thought. Yuki’s go to question was to ask what someone’s type was whenever they picked truth.

“I feel like we are being ignored,” You lean in to whisper to Choso.

“Mhm, that's fine…but if you're bored we can–”

“Choso!” Suguru’s voice stops him from finishing his thought. “I pick you, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Have you ever fantasized about someone in this room?” Choso glares at him. “It’s a yes or no answer,” Suguru teases when he remains silent.

He reaches for the tequila bottle, pouring a shot into the glass held by his shaky hand. Downing it quickly and refusing to answer altogether.

“Interesting.” Utahime smiles as she elbows you in the side. 

“Choso! I'll pick you too!” Satoru’s voice announces his victim. You hear a small sigh from beside you as Choso prepares for whatever torture is to come, his hand still around the neck of the tequila bottle. “Pick someone to act out your favorite sex position with.” Choso doesn’t move an inch. “Come on! We are all waiting.” Satoru tilts his shades down to wink at you.

“No, absolutely not!” Choso pours himself another shot.

“My turn!” Shoko smiles at you devilishly. “Y/N, truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” You answer.

“Is there anyone here you want to fuck?”

You catch Choso’s eye as he brings the shot glass up to his lips. You're not sure what possessed you to be so bold with your answer. Maybe it was the little amount of liquid courage in your system, or maybe you were trying to send a message.

“Yes. Raw, next question.”

Choso practically chokes on the tequila at your response. Coughing loudly as his face turned red. Message received. 

“Truth or Dare, Y/N?” Miguel speaks up next. You can’t help but wonder why he would pick you, the two of you had never even spoken more than a handful of words.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to make out with Sukuna.” You look over at the team captain who looks just as shocked as you. 

“Um…but why us?” You ask, looking between the two men.

“No reason, I just think you two would look good together.”

You really don’t want to kiss that man, but you also don’t want to be seen as a coward for not following through with the dare. Plus, backing out and taking a shot may push you way over the edge.

You push off the ground and walk over to where Sukuna sits in the circle, his legs spread apart in a V. You kneel between his open legs and his eyes widen as if he didn't expect you to even entertain the thought. 

“No tongue.” You warn him sternly.

Your hand cups his cheek as you bring your face closer to his, eyes closed and lips parted. His lips crash into yours, rough and fast as he fought for dominance. You complied, letting him lead the dance but only allowing him a small taste. As you pull away, he nips at your bottom lip.

Locking eyes, neither of you spoke. You quietly got up and took your place back beside Choso, who was looking away and sipping from his drink. 

Kento was next.

“Choso? Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” He says confidently, making you wonder if he actually plans to follow through with it this turn.

“I dare you to kiss Yuki.”

Your heart sinks. That would feel like torture, watching his lips on hers in front of you. In front of everyone here. Jealousy is seething off you as you imagine the scene. But then again, maybe you deserve it after your little kiss with Sukuna. Maybe you deserve to get a taste of how he felt watching you.

Would you blame him if he went through with the dare now?

“Ew! Gross!” He sticks his tongue out at the thought. 

“You don’t have to sound so disgusted by me!” Yuki shouts at him while laughing uncontrollably. “I don’t look that bad!”

“Yeah, not happening.” He crosses his arms while shaking his head.

“Huh? I thought you two were close!” Kento looks between the two in surprise.

“Yeah, we are! But she's like…she's like a sister to me.” Choso stumbles over his words.

“I have no desire to kiss him, at all.” Yuki shakes her head frantically. 

This was all the confirmation you needed to ease your mind. Deep down, you were worried they may have had a thing for each other, especially given their history. Judging by their exaggerated reactions, you have nothing to fear.

“Fine, if Choso won't kiss her, I will!” Shoko leans in toward Yuki, who accepts the invitation. The loud smacks of their lips carried on for far longer than you expected. Shoko finally pulls away, wiping the corner of her lip where her lipstick had smudged. “Choso still has to drink though, don’t think you can back out of that.” 

Choso lets out a dramatic sigh, his hand already reaching for the tequila. Utahime grabs it first.

“Not so fast!” She pours it into the shot glass before handing it to you. “I think it would be more fun if y/n fed you the shot.” She smiles at you.

You stand up and face Choso, his eyes tracking your every move.

“On your knees, pretty boy.” He obeys immediately, propping himself up to his knees, his head level with your waistline while his hands rest on your thighs to steady himself. Your hand not holding the cup smooths down his messy bangs before reaching under his chin and tilting his face up. You drag your thumb along his bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. If a human could have heart-shaped pupils, he would right about now.

The edge of the glass presses to his lip, his eyes closing as he waits for you to pour it into his mouth.

“Ah ah…keep your eyes on me.” He looks up to you, holding your intense gaze as you begin to tilt the cup. His throat bobs as he swallows the tequila. The liquor burns as it goes down, but this is nothing compared to the burn he feels for you.

The two of you stay in this position, neither one daring to break eye contact until Shoko speaks up.

“That was hot.” 

Choso finally looks away, settling back on the floor and subtly adjusting his jeans. You sit down beside him, your whole body feeling extra warm, heart racing out of your chest. 

Hiromi was next, but neither of you were his focus. You remained lost in your thoughts, trying to think of an excuse for you both to leave the group. You wanted more of him, another taste. The little peck from earlier has you dying for more. 

“Hey?” Choso’s shoulder nudges against yours, your full attention back on him. It was his turn. “Dare?” He asks, not really giving you an option. You nod in agreement. He swipes his finger along the top of Hiromi’s half-eaten cake.

“What the fuck man?” 

Choso ignored him, holding his finger out in front of your lips, looking down at you with hazy, half-lidded eyes.

“Lick it off.” While it was spoken softly, it was more of a command than anything. You happily oblige.

Leaning forward, you let your bottom lip rest on the tip of his pointer, slightly rubbing it back and forth to trace along the soft curves. His breath hitched in anticipation. You bob your head forward, taking his whole finger inside your mouth, your tongue swirled around him, cheeks hollowed out as you sucked and swallowed every bit of frosting before pulling off with a wet plop. The whole time, your eyes never left his.

“Fuck,” He gasps.

This was enough to break him, there was no holding back now.

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you forward, while you were already scrambling to straddle his lap. One of his hands stayed at your hip while the other wrapped behind your head, pulling you closer. His lips hungrily attacked yours. He has held back for too long, been dying to taste you. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip, begging for entry. 

The second you grant him access, his tongue is plunging inside your mouth, dancing with yours. The sweetness of the cake on your tongue mixes with the liquor on his, creating an addictive combo that only makes you want more. You're not sure where to place your hands, settling for grabbing a fistful of his hair while the other presses a palm to his chest, your hips moving on their own as you grind along the hardened outline of his cock.

He lets out a deep moan, which you swallow in turn. His hands fly to your ass, pads of his fingers digging in as he helps you move, eliciting more and more noises from his throat. When his mouth opens in another shameless moan, you take the opportunity to slip your tongue inside. Taking the lead, which he seems to enjoy as well.

There is no telling how much time has passed. It could have been an hour, even though it only felt like a brief second.

Choso finally pulls away, lying back on the floor and pulling you down to rest on top of him. His chest heaving as he attempts to catch his breath. He presses his nose into the crook of your neck, soft pants of air tickling the exposed skin.

The room was quiet. Your friends from earlier quickly cleared out to another area of the house, ending the game. No one wanted to sit around and watch as the two of you groped each other. Choso sucks in a deep inhale.

“Different perfume?” He notes, surprising you that he can tell the difference even while wasted. He tenderly kisses along your neck.

“Yeah.” 

“I like the other one better.” He nips your neck, causing you to gasp sharply. “I like when you smell sweet like honey, makes me want to eat you.” He kisses the bite he left, his tongue soothing over your skin.

Noted.

“Can I show you something? Upstairs?” He whispers on your skin in between light kisses. “And…” He trails off, pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “Will you stay with me tonight? Please?” His voice comes out in a needy whine with the last word; he looks almost ready to beg you.

How could you deny him?

“Anything the birthday boy wants,” You purr, kissing the tip of his nose before getting off of him. “I’m gonna find Shoko and let her know she can leave without me, meet you up there.”

Before you can stand up, he grabs you by the wrist and tugs you back onto him. Pressing a long and searing kiss to your lips, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” he smirks, finally releasing you. 

When you get off of him, you quickly search through the house for either of your roommates. You find Shoko first, leaning on the wall in another room, watching Yuki and Suguru face off against two other hockey players in beer pong.

“Hey babe,” she smiles when you come near. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon after that kiss.” She teases. 

“I’m staying here tonight,” You blurt out. Her eyes widen.

“Shit, good for you! Make sure he wears a condom, even if you do prefer it raw. I’m not ready to be an auntie.”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes at her relentless teasing, already walking away.

You step into Choso’s room, the lights off except for one bedside lamp which casts a soft glow on the entire room. You take note of the finer details your brain missed the last time you were here. A few picture frames showcasing him and his brothers on his desk, a small sketchbook open to a drawing of a cat on the nightstand. The array of band posters on his wall, you now recognize each name and recall a few of their songs thanks to him.

He was standing over at his dresser, messing with a small record player on top.

“What did you want to show me?” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, watching as he turns around, showing off the record he received from his brothers earlier today.

“I thought we could listen to it together,” he explains as he turns around, putting the record into position. He keeps the volume low, contrasting with the usual loud guitar riffs and heavy vocals that Piercing Blood is known for.

He walks over to where you sit, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“You're so perfect,” he whispers before capturing your lips in another kiss. Wrapping your arms behind his neck, you pull him down toward you while scooting away from the edge. He moves to hover over you, spreading your legs apart with his strong thighs. “I've never met anyone as perfect as you.”

He rolls his bulge against you through both of your jeans, creating a friction that has you aching for more. You lift your legs over his hips, a slight moan escaping your lips. His kisses become sloppy, he can hardly focus when you sound like that. Music to rival even his favorite band.

He braces a hand on the bed while the other one snakes under your shirt, feeling the smooth skin of your stomach as he reaches higher and higher. The tips of his fingers brush along the edge of your bra, a sensation that pricks your skin with goosebumps, before slipping his whole hand under to knead at the soft tissue of your breast. 

“You….you’re…” He struggles to get his words out between kisses. “Need this off,” He grunts, removing his hand to tug at the hem of his jersey covering your body. He sits back, watching you with unfocused eyes.

All those shots were really starting to catch up to him. His face was drained of all color, looking even more pale than normal. Despite the comfortable temperature of the house, he appeared to be sweating.

“Choso? You feeling alright?” He quickly disentangles himself from your grip, shaking his head no.

“Feel…sick…” he backs away from the bed clumsily. You shoot up, ready to help him if needed, but he puts a hand up to stop you. “Stay,” was the last thing he could manage before running out of the room to the bathroom across the hall. Even with the door slammed shut behind him, you could hear the echoes of his vomiting.

You get off the bed, moving to turn the volume up on the record player to drown out the retching. You're positive he would feel embarrassed if he knew just how much you could hear.

But then again, this feels like the first night all over again. Yet with the roles reversed. Now it is your time to take care of the poor sick and drunk Choso. 

You decided to look for a change of clothes, sleeping in what you have on right now would surely not be comfortable. And Choso probably wouldn't mind if you borrowed more of his things. You find an oversized band tee of his and trade that for the jersey currently on your body. Finding a black pair of his boxers in the dresser, you decide to wear them as shorts, the bottom barely peeking out underneath the shirt. 

Laying back on the bed, your mind debates back and forth between staying where you are like he asked or checking if he was ok. Before a decision could be reached, the door across the hall opened. His feet shuffle along the floor until he's back in his bedroom, leaning one arm on the door to support himself from falling over. 

“Fuuuuck” He whines loudly when he catches sight of you in his clothes. He makes his way back toward the bed, shedding his clothes down to his boxers. His arms wrap around your waist, and he tucks his nose into your neck as he spoons you from behind. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He mumbles.

You can tell, loud and clear. Despite everything that just happened, you can feel the throbbing of his cock against your ass.

“I ruined our night…sorry. His breath puffed against your skin as he planted a gentle kiss on your cheek. He smelled minty, like freshly brushed teeth.

“No, Cho…don’t worry about it. We will have plenty of chances in the future.” 

“I’ll make it up to you…I promise.” He holds you even tighter against him.

“Did all your birthday wishes come true?” You look over your shoulder to ask him.

“Almost…I still have one wish not fulfilled.”

“And what is that?”

“Next free day I have, will you go on a date with me?” 

You hadn’t exactly expected that question, but you don't hesitate with your response.

“Yes, I would like that.” 

“Good,” he nuzzles his nose against your shoulder as he hides his face, yet you can feel his lips curving into an uncontrollable smile. 

“Choso? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, angel.” That new nickname makes your stomach do a flip each time you hear it.

“What did Toji say to you?” You feel his body tense up. 

“Just talking shit.”

“Really? Nothing more?”

He lets out a deep sigh, unable to lie to you.

“No…he was talking about you. I guess he saw us together when their team was unloading and that pissed him off, so I became his target. It started as normal trash talk about the game, but as it went on he realized that it didn't affect me, so his focus turned to you. He called you a bitch, said some real hurtful things. Said ‘I fucked her first’ and ‘your dick will never her please her like mine did’. It pissed me off, I fucking snapped.”

“Thanks…for defending me.” you breathe out when it sinks in. Toji is so bitter now that he knows he can’t win you back that he can’t even stand to see you happy, trying to ruin your relationship with Choso before it even had a chance.

“I’ll always defend you.” He promises, kissing your shoulder. “Man…” he groans dramatically.

“What now?” You let out a small giggle with the drastic change of his mood.

“I really, really want to go stargazing with you.” 

“Choso, you know we can’t see them tonight.” You shift to look at him, he was dead serious. A good chunk of his mind still being controlled by the alcohol, making him think irrationally.

“But…I want to.” He pouts.

An idea pops into your head. 

“Fine, lie back and look up at the ceiling.” He adjusts himself on the bed as you asked, waiting patiently as you lean off the bed to turn the lamp off, the room falling pitch black. You lie back beside him and search for a video showcasing constellations on YouTube, extending your arm out to hold the screen straight up in the air for you both to view. It wasn’t the real thing, but it was enough to make him happy. Reflections of the tiny stars twinkling in his wide eyes. You kept the sound off, narrating it for him. Pointing out what each one was and spreading the knowledge you've learned over the years.

“What’s that one?” He points at a cluster of stars.

“That's pegasus.”

“Doesn’t really look like a pegasus to me,” he tilts his head to attempt a better look, his pigtails poking you in the face. Not long after that question, he stills completely. Lost in a peaceful slumber filled with visions of starshine and you.

Letting out a small laugh, you exit the video and set your phone on the nightstand. When you turn back to him, you remove the ties from his hair, being careful not to pull too hard and wake him. Pulling the blankets over both of you, you snuggle in close to his side. You leave one last kiss on his cheek before resting your head on his chest, his arm unconsciously wraps around you, wanting you close even in his sleep.

“Goodnight, Choso.”

Taglist: @v1x3n @lavenderdaydream97 @simplyraeblue @huang-the-geek @sodapop182 @angel04-01 @liiiacke @ravester @ladytano420 @raedollsstuff @superstar-t20 @cryingoverpixelsetc @spicy-woodland-queen @deathrye @rie-star

A/N: WOWIE! First off I just want to say thank you for all the support from both my Ao3 and Tumblr readers! You guys are seriously the best!! Every time i get a comment I am so so happy :'D

Also, sorry for the delay! I meant to be done last week but I've been so busy and distracted. (family stuff, summer activites, work, got a few new tattoos, went to pride, been trying to stay up on love island and playing date everything.) I was so glad to get a day to myself yesterday so I could crank out this chapter, and i think it's the longest yet!

Hope you all enjoyed!

[writing-mlm]

t4t spencer reid ramblings

nsfw warning, not proof-read in the slightest

T4T Spencer Reid where you take shots and he does patches— he used to do shots but stopped when he got sober to eliminate having needles around

T4T Spencer Reid where you work different jobs so your schedules are a mess, so during the first couple of dates where he had to cancel, you thought he was slowly ghosting you until you saw him on the news across the country

T4T Spencer Reid where he’s stealth at work for the longest and he calls you on cases where there’s trans or even just queer victims/UnSubs because someone said something they didn’t even realize was offensive. it accidentally pushes him further into the closet with them and you have to reassure him— even though you’ve never met them before

T4T Spencer Reid where you both want kids and the possibility for either of you carrying is an actual conversation

T4T Spencer Reid where Penelope tries to wrangle the team for some pride events but it’s always when you’re both going to separate events so he declines until she stumbles across the two of you. you’re wheeling around a wagon of ice cold water and snacks while he has a first aid bookbag- and omg she’s heard of the Pride dads who help everyone

T4T Spencer Reid where Spencer start to get worried because Penelope is dropping weird hints that she knows his secret— eventually she cracks and rambles that she didn’t know he was bi

T4T Spencer Reid where you have to take off from work because you’re having top surgery and spencer takes off for a week before hiring a care taker for you because he’s afraid to ask for more time. you try to tell him it’s fine, your sister is willing to stop by and help but he insists and checks on you every hour on the hour- as long as his schedule permits

T4T Spencer Reid where his search history is filled with medical advice for post-op care and even as you’re fully recovered he’s still cautious and you secretly love it while telling him he’s worrying too much

T4T Spencer Reid where his insurance has finally approved his top surgery and now he really needs to take time off. Thankfully Hotch doesn’t ask questions and approves the time and you get permission to work from home so now you’re pampering him

T4T Spencer Reid where you love taking care of your boyfriend, especially when you finally get to be the taller one and reach the top shelves since he’s not allowed to raise his arms.

T4T Spencer Reid where he falls asleep to you rubbing ointment on his healing scars

T4T Spencer Reid where you’re cleaning the house as he reads a book out loud and there’s a knock at the door. you’re surprised to see his team and they’re equally surprised to see you, checking they had the right apartment. you slowly close the door, and rush to tell Spencer and he looks absolutely panicked. he still has tubes connected to his chest and he couldn’t exactly hide them but he couldn’t just send them on their way either so he rips the bandaid off

T4T Spencer Reid where you’re having issues at work and he gets Penelope to hack into the guys computer, messing up his work. it’s a shame that guy got fired, too. Totally not his fault.

T4T Spencer Reid where you propose on your third anniversary and he happily agrees. he even shows the ring off to the others at the BAU

T4T Spencer Reid where his second favorite place to be is in between your legs, especially after you pumped so he’s sucking and fingering like he’s starved and you’re seeing stars in his ceiling

T4T Spencer Reid where he’s a back door only type of guy, so he really doesn’t like getting head unless he’s pumped and he deems it big enough and absolutely will not get fingered, so you take extra time fucking him and sometimes he’ll suck your strap

T4T Spencer Reid where he goes crazy because he’s been away for a case for nearly two weeks and he just can’t handle it. it’s the only time he agrees to phone sex and masturbating with his fingers

T4T Spencer Reid where he gets off to being called your husband and on your wedding night he’s absolutely feral

[coffeedepressionsoup]

Somebody Does Love | MYG - A Little More

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage.

This is the one where their first date continues, and their work worlds collide (more like bump gently against each other). Part 10 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 3.3k+

Warnings - kissing, some steamy shit, lovesick Yoongi, just sickeningly soft Yoongi (I might have over indulged, sue me!)

Ratings - 18+ MDNI

Taglist: @majiiisstuff @starlighttaek8 @yoongrace @proudnoona @7ndipity @ktownshizzle

A/N - I had planned to put it out on the 21st, but lmao—we're going to ignore the lost time and just rejoice in the return of the most perfect man in our lives. Not proofread. Fully vibed along, though.

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

Yoongi sighed in contentment as he felt Y/N’s breath fan his neck. He meant what he’d said before—he truly hadn’t felt this at ease in months. So much like himself. So much like he belonged right here, like his life finally belonged to him.

He smiled down at Y/N and said with faux surprise, “Wah! Here I thought I finally found someone who liked me for me.”

“I may not like you for you, but I think I feel a little more than that,” she said softly, before he felt her kiss behind his ear.

A shiver ran down his spine as Y/N shifted in his arms. He could see the blush creeping up her face. Instinctively, he tightened his hold around her waist and asked, “What do you mean, Y/N?”

Y/N squirmed in his hold and, with a grin she was clearly trying to suppress, began fumbling with the remote, muttering a quiet, “Nothing…”

“A little more than like is surely not nothing,” Yoongi said with a smile, her words echoing sweetly in his tired, overworked, now entirely content mind.

It wasn’t that Yoongi didn’t understand the connotations. His heart beat twice as fast at the thought of “more than like” from the very person he’d been dreaming of—now in his arms, leaning against his chest.

He felt that “more than like” in his veins, in his bones. And he’d been hesitant to believe it was mutual, convinced it was a feeling only he harboured.

Y/N glanced up at his amused yet tender face and said, “Maybe it is,” though with no real conviction.

Yoongi was lost in the way her eyes sparkled with adoration. He could hardly believe his stars. That Y/N, this radiant, brilliant, maddening woman, was finally his. Well, she belonged to no one, and he never believed in claiming people. But the way she looked at him—as if he was all she’d ever need—left his knees weak. Good thing they were seated.

His gaze lingered on Y/N’s full lips, and his mind wandered to their first kiss. A spark that should have dimmed with time, yet somehow burned brighter with every one that followed. He saw that same longing in her eyes before she leaned up to kiss him.

As their lips met, Yoongi amended an earlier thought. The best feeling wasn’t holding Y/N in his arms, it was the feel of her lips on his. Soft, searching, hungry. More addictive than caffeine or nicotine, he was certain. When she bit down gently on his lower lip, a needy groan escaped him, raw and unfiltered. Before he could feel the slightest tinge of embarrassment, she clutched the front of his shirt and leaned in, anchoring herself to him like she didn’t want to let go.

Oh, so she likes that?

He let out another groan—this one rougher, deeper—as her nails grazed the back of his neck. She swallowed the sound like it belonged to her, kissing him harder, her hips shifting just enough to make him gasp. It wasn’t just passion anymore—it was presence. Like the world had narrowed to the space they filled together.

Despite the growing ache in his body, Yoongi noted this was the safest and steadiest he’d felt in years. There was no fear here. No pretence. Just them.

Still lost in the heat of the moment, Yoongi reached down, curled his fingers around Y/N’s thigh, and guided her leg over his lap. She broke the kiss with a breathless laugh and said, “I might crush you.”

He looked up, catching the flash of hesitation beneath her teasing words. She was deflecting—not out of disinterest, but fear. Of being too much. Of being too real. Yoongi knew that fear intimately.

He brushed his fingers gently along the back of her thigh and pulled her close once more. “Then crush me,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m right here.”

He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his lips trailing open-mouthed kisses along the line of her jaw and collarbone. Between each kiss, he murmured, “Crush me.” Kiss. “Break me.” Kiss. “End me.” Kiss.

“Yoong…” Y/N sighed, the sound caught between pleasure and something deeper, more tender, as her hips rocked slowly against him. Her fingers wove into his hair, tugging gently until he looked up again.

She was flushed, breathless, eyes wide, but there was something else there, too. Trust. Need. A fragile hope she hadn’t voiced out loud.

He cupped her face with one hand, the other still cradling her back, grounding them both. “You don’t have to hold back with me,” he whispered. “Never.”

Y/N’s eyes searched his face for a beat too long, like she was trying to memorise every inch of him. Then she smiled, soft and sure, before leaning in again, brushing her lips against his with an unspoken agreement.

The kiss deepened slowly this time. No rush. No edge. Just the language of two people learning the shape of something they weren’t quite ready to name. And with every heartbeat, Yoongi knew, it wasn’t just desire that tethered them. It was the terrifying, beautiful promise of more.

Then, suddenly, a sharp sound shattered the moment. A melodic noise. A ringtone.

As their lips parted, his eyes darted to the phone beside him. “Namjoon calling.” Not unusual—except Yoongi’s contact for him wasn’t “Namjoon.”

It was RapMon. It had been RapMon for over 15 years.

Y/N looked at the caller ID, raising a questioning brow, then shrugged as she slid off his lap. Yoongi adjusted himself quickly, trying to make his arousal less obvious.

She definitely saw the movement but said nothing. Instead, she tucked her hair behind her ear, cleared her throat, and answered the call.

“Hey, Joon!”

Joon? When did that happen? Yoongi disliked the bitterness behind the fleeting thought. He wasn’t an imbecile—Y/N could call anyone anything she wanted. He mentally scolded himself as he poured cognac into two glasses, different from the ones they were using earlier.

“No, no. Just having dinner with a friend.”

Y/N wore a pained smile as she battled the seam of her shirt with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone. That shirt could’ve been off her if the call had come in seconds later, Yoongi thought, while lightly bumping his knees against hers, hoping it might help her feel calmer.

“Oh? Are you sure?” he heard her ask, watching her grip the hem of her shirt tighter as she brought the phone closer to her ear.

“Sure, we can talk about it.”

She looked up, meeting his eyes, this time, a little calmer.

“Yeah, catch you then,” Y/N nodded.

“You too! Goodnight!” she said, ending the call.

Yoongi didn’t pry. Y/N cleared her throat before speaking. “You know the company’s writing workshop you all have coming up?”

Yoongi nodded, eyebrows slightly furrowed—he hadn’t expected her to suddenly bring up work.

“Namjoon called to ask if I’d be okay conducting a session on inclusivity,” she added.

Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat for several reasons. The biggest, it hadn’t even occurred to him that Y/N would be perfect for the role. The next, more petty reason, Namjoon had thought of it first.

Yoongi liked to believe he was a rational man, secure in his knowledge, merit, and masculinity. And he was. But something about the way Namjoon and Y/N interacted, with their shared love for the same books, mutual reverence for the same authors, and matching impulse to laugh at bad puns, threw Yoongi’s internal balance just slightly off.

If he were completely honest with himself, he felt like a lunatic. Listen to yourself, you ridiculous prick! He composed his expression as best he could and nodded along as Y/N explained that Namjoon wanted to discuss the process and logistics sometime next week.

“That sounds exciting, Y/N,” he said, offering a small but genuine smile. He really was excited, for her, and at the idea of seeing her around his workplace.

Y/N’s returning smile, though warm, didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“How do you feel, jagi?” The endearment slipped out before Yoongi realised, and he didn’t catch it immediately.

Y/N shrugged and took a sip of the cognac now in her hands. She didn’t seem to notice either.

“Honestly? Nervous. I’ve never worked with songwriters before.”

“We’re probably dumber than your grad school batch—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Y/N whined, but Yoongi’s shoulders relaxed as a smile spread across her face.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he murmured, inching closer to her.

Y/N chuckled, but the sound melted into a soft yawn she tried to hide behind her glass.

Yoongi caught it anyway. “Tired?”

“A bit,” she admitted. “And I have an early start tomorrow."

She stretched out her arms as Yoongi massaged one side of her shoulders slightly. "The final year students are presenting their thesis abstracts, and I promised I’d be extra nice," she added.

He frowned, just a little, “Then stay. You can sleep in, skip the morning session.”

Seeing Y/N shake her head with a smile, Yoongi added, “I’ll bribe your conscience with some leftover kimchijeon and fresh dark roast coffee.”

Y/N was touched by the offer, tempted by the warmth in his voice, but shook her head again. “I’d hate myself if I showed up late or hungover. I’ve been telling them to take their work seriously. I should, too.”

Yoongi reached over to take her empty glass and set it aside. “Then let me at least call a car for you,” he bargained. He had genuinely hoped he could convince her to stay the night, but he understood and respected the dedication she had for her work.

“I was going to hail a cab anyway,” she said, but Yoongi was already making a call. “But thank you. For this. For everything tonight.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just watched her as she gathered her things, her bag, her hair tie, the sweater she'd shrugged off at some point in the evening. Something about the finality of it made his chest ache.

She noticed. Of course she did.

���Yoongi,” she said gently, stepping closer. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“I know,” he said. “I just… don’t like watching you go.”

Y/N reached up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “And I don’t like leaving like this. But I also like keeping my job.”

“That’s very sincere of you,” he muttered, but there was a teasing edge in his voice now.

They walked to the door together, the hallway dim and quiet. As they took the elevator down, the city buzzed in the distance, a reminder that the world hadn’t stopped for them, even if it had felt like it did.

Yoongi guided her through another side of the building’s reception, towards the parking lot. “Text me when you get home?” he said, squeezing Y/N’s hands before shutting the door and nodding politely at Mr. Jang, who was already familiar with her address.

He watched the car zoom out of the parking area, watched until the taillights faded into the city. Then he walked back into the building with a sigh. For the first time in a long time, Yoongi felt something new settle in his chest that was not loneliness, nor emptiness, but the slow, sure unfolding of something more worth waiting for.

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

Yoongi stirred awake the next morning to the familiar silence of his apartment. In the few laughter-filled hours Y/N had spent there, she had already left behind the mark of what he now craved. Something about her presence in his space had shifted the rhythm of his world.

But Y/N was gone.

Not gone, gone, of course. Just… at work. Yoongi couldn’t believe how dramatic and off-kilter his emotions and thoughts could feel at times. 

He sat up, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eyes. His head ached, but not from the cognac. It was the kind of ache that came from overthinking. From remembering how her lips felt on his, how her fingers had trembled just slightly when she reached for him, how her voice had dropped to that honest, vulnerable register when she’d said, “I think I feel a little more than that.”

God. That had done something to him. Stirred things that had stayed dormant for too long.

He padded into the kitchen, started the kettle, and reached for two mugs before pausing. A quiet curse escaped him as he put one of them back.

He really hoped Y/N would stay over last night. Not to finish what they started, not that he would not want that, but for her to just be by his side. 

When his phone buzzed, he nearly knocked over the cup of hot water in front of him. His eyes scanned the screen.

Y/N: made it to class. mildly hungover. lots of coffee. miss u already.

Yoongi’s lips curved up before he could help it. He leaned against the counter and typed back with one hand.

Yoongi: should’ve stayed. would’ve let you sleep some more.

Her reply came in the few seconds it took for him to mix the instant coffee in his cup.

Y/N: exactly why I left.

He laughed softly. He could imagine her soft eye-roll and teasing smile. It made him miss her more, if that was possible. 

He took his coffee and walked over to the nearby French window, letting the steam warm his face. Below, the city moved on, oblivious and loud. But inside, everything was still. Still and full.

He didn’t want to name the feeling yet, not entirely. But it was good. It was honest. And maybe, just maybe, it was the start of something that could last.

Yoongi sipped his coffee, thumb hovering over his phone before typing, “dinner tonight? my place.”

And for good measure, added, “Stay over?”

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

Yoongi was hunched over the keyboard, headphones slipping slightly off one ear as he tested another synth texture, low, warm, something that could cradle a lyric instead of overpowering it. The afternoon light slanted across the studio floor. He barely noticed it anymore; in here, time moved in strange ways. 10 minutes stretched into two hours, or 10 hours collapsed into two.

The electronic lock chimed, and the door clicked open behind him without a knock. Only one person did that.

“I come bearing life support,” Namjoon said as he walked in, holding up two iced Americanos like trophies.

Yoongi didn’t even look up at first. “About time,” he muttered, tugging his headphones down and spinning lazily in his chair. “I was starting to hear colours.”

Namjoon snorted. “You’ve been in here all morning?”

Yoongi hummed, sipping quietly on his coffee. “Where else would I be?”

Namjoon collapsed onto the couch with a familiar grunt, eyes skimming over the clutter—lyric sheets, open notebooks, hazy polaroids. “Out touching grass?”

“How regular is your daily meditation again?” Yoongi asked, slurping loudly this time. 

“Still more functional than your sleep schedule,” Namjoon said without missing a beat.

Yoongi cracked a half-smile but didn’t say anything, the silence between them stretching out in that easy, companionable way it often did—full of history, not awkwardness.

Yoongi took another grateful sip, letting the caffeine sit heavy on his tongue for a moment, before turning back to his monitor. The comfortable silence continued between them for a bit—the kind forged from years of shared grind and quiet admiration. Studio hours often passed like this. Few words, inside jokes, and more instinct than instruction.

But Namjoon didn’t come in just to vibe. Yoongi could tell from the slight bounce in his knee.

“So,” Namjoon began, far too casually, “I called Y/N yesterday.”

Yoongi didn’t flinch, but his grip on the cup tightened just a little. “Oh yeah?”

“Asked if she’d consider holding a session in the workshop. You know, the writing one next week. Thought she’d be a perfect fit to talk about inclusivity.”

Yoongi nodded once, slowly. “She mentioned it.”

Namjoon arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything right away. He leaned back, arms crossed, like he was settling into a lounge chair on the beach—relaxed, but waiting for the right moment to pounce.

“She said she was having dinner with a friend when I called.”

Yoongi shot him a look. “She has friends.”

“Mm,” Namjoon hummed. 

Yoongi tried not to react, but Namjoon’s grin widened. Of course, he caught that.

“Relax,” he added, voice lower, teasing. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“We’re not—” Yoongi began, too quickly. Then stopped. Bit the inside of his cheek.

Namjoon just raised his brows knowingly, eyes twinkling. “You’ve just got that smug ‘I wasn’t alone last night’ vibe.

Yoongi exhaled through his nose and turned towards the keys. “You’re annoying,” he muttered, but did not deny the allegations.

“Just observant,” Namjoon said, utterly unapologetic, pleased with his inference. “Anyway, she said yes.”

“I know.”

“Of course you do.”

Namjoon didn’t push. That was the thing with him—he’d tease, poke, gently prod. But never past Yoongi’s line. Never with cruelty. His silence now said as much as his smirk, ‘I see you. And I’m letting it be.’

Yoongi did not say anything for a minute, not because he didn’t have things he wanted to say, but because he could not figure out how to do it without revealing how much the idea of Namjoon calling Y/N first had bothered him.

He hated that it had bothered him. It was nothing. Rationally, he knew that. Namjoon admired Y/N. Respected her. Of course, he’d think of her for the workshop.

But still… Yoongi had known for months now what Y/N was capable of. The nuance in her language, the quiet provocation in her critiques, the way she talked about a subject, not like it was a lecture, but a lived truth. And yet he hadn’t thought of her. Why hadn’t he?

Yoongi shuffled slightly in his seat, stretching out his fingers above the keys. “She’s the best person for it,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Namjoon replied. “I’m excited to see how she handles the team. Honestly, she might intimidate the boys more than you do.”

“She intimidates me sometimes.”

Namjoon barked a laugh. “Good. You need it.”

Yoongi chuckled, eyes softening despite himself.

They slid back into the rhythm of their familiar silence. Namjoon began thumbing through a notebook of lyrics while Yoongi experimented with a looping bassline. 

Now and then, Yoongi caught Namjoon glancing at him, sideways, thoughtfully. Not suspicious, not probing. Just curious. Like he was quietly clocking a change in rhythm he hadn’t heard before, but recognised all the same.

And Yoongi? He let him. He let Namjoon see enough to know it was real, but not too much. It wasn’t time. Not yet. Not until she was ready. 

Every few minutes, though, his mind drifted. To Y/N’s soft smile as she teased him. To the warmth in her voice when she’d said, “I think I feel a little more than that.” To the tension in her shoulders when she’d answered Namjoon’s call. The way she’d exhaled slowly, like letting go of something she couldn’t name.

He was happy for her. Proud. She deserved to be seen for her brilliance, beyond the quiet corners they occupied together. Still, as Namjoon hummed a new melody beside him, Yoongi couldn’t help but think that he wanted to be the first to think of her next time. He wanted to be the first to think of her always.

He picked up his phone and unlocked it. A message from Y/N lit up the screen; she must finally be on her lunch break. “I’ll bring dessert then.” He typed a quick, “Can’t wait,” and got back to the keys, the smile on his lips spilling onto his fingers.

Namjoon looked up from his notebook, surprised to hear a string of aching hope, a shift from the solemn tone that had dominated the rest of their afternoon. “Yah, hyung, I think you got the bridge.”

[needyraincandy-u]

Not used to receive stimulation at the same time that she gives it, Ame would sometimes stop when trying to focus on making her tongue circle around Harley's clit. Her fingers, almost by mere instinct, though, would eventually push further, looking to press the tips against her girlfriend's walls in search for the most sensitive spot.

The same way that Harley's nails dig against her skin, Ame's would do the same against the thigh of her lover as she held with the free hand, feeling as if she was between letting her mind ascend to Heaven or let herself fall to drown into the most welcoming Hell to fulfill her desires there.

By mere reflex, she lets out a louder moan and presses her hips against Harley's face; even grinding them a little at the same time her back arched.

"H-Hmngh-…"

Pressed against her lover's body, Ame wanted to melt against her while also wanting to let herself loose and go crazy. The stimulation to her own clit or feeling Harley's wet muscle inside, got the streamer to pant a bit more heavily before her fingers started to move and press with more fervor.

No, as good as she felt, as much as she wanted to sit up and ride Harley's tongue more passionately, she had to focus on what she was doing too, specially when what she could taste from her lover was sending her into a high of needing more.

"H-Hah~…" Hearing Harley's sounds, feeling all her movements and touches…they would get Ame to press her tongue more against the other's clit, abusing the movement in circles before leaning closer to trap the sensitive bud between her lips, nibbling on it with care at the same time warm breaths escaped by her mouth and nose.

She was so hungry to bask into giving all her love to her girlfriend, that Ame tried to let her tongue brush against the upper outer labia too, needing to coat her in her saliva before her focus went back to Harley's clit.

All in all, Ame was holding herself back a little, but she could feel she would be coming soon from the mix of everything being the perfect love cocktail, sending her up to reach familiar heights of pleasure.

"H-Hacchan~…h-hah~…I-I love you…h-hmn~…"

Harley bucks as soon as she feels Ame's tongue against her clit, prompting her to further lick and circle hers around Ame's labia. Her grip on Ame's ass tightens, squeezing deep enough that her nails will surely leave at least a slight indent.

She can already feel herself wanting to surrender herself to Ame's delicious tastebuds and touches, knees going weak at the pleasure that buzzes through her like sudden electric shocks. Moaning into Ame's pelvis, cheeks flushing crimson at her skilled movements.

It shouldn't be a surprise that Ame is able to make her unravel like this.

Of course her beloved Ame would start to pick up on what pleases Harley most, after so many heated trysts that would have stars exploding in her eyes— cries to the Heavens bursting out of her body, escaping through her throat like a running wildfire.

And yet, it's the very fact that Ame can read her so well, already tell what she's craving or what she's thinking before Harley even has a chance to say.

It's exhilarating, being understood so well. Being wanted, even after Ame has peered into her mind, seen the chaotic yet colorful debauchery that plays in Harley's head like a movie. Definitely controversial in some aspects, but undoutably full of love, and full of fun.

And if there's any moment to really liven up the moment, she wants to ensure that no time like the present is a better gift for Ame's birthday.

She sucks on Ame's clit, coating every inch of her folds with her own saliva. A way to stake her claim on Ame, another way of marking her as Harley's. Knowing full well that her muscles will give out if she waits any longer, she inserts her girthy tongue inside of Ame's walls.

The warm, slick texture of her girlfriend's entrance is enough to make Harley's eyes roll and shut, moaning and melting into the waves of pleasure that ripple through her blood.

Heat begins to build, emanating beneath her skin, and leaving Ame's warm to the touch. Basking in her beloved's cooled skin, as she strains herself to not squash Ame's head between her thighs.

After all, she has one last treat in store for her lover, and she knows it'll be the best one yet. If she can retain enough strength in her, that is.

"Aahhh, mmmngh! Ooohh, Amee- haaaah... More, I need more...!"

[magicpiano]

I can't stop thinking of an AU where instead of killing Lenore Dove, Snow has her arrested for her 'crimes' and sent to the capitol to become an avox. A fate that, to her at least, is probably much worse.

Maybe Snow has her work in the tribute center too. Every year she can see Haymitch, and he can see her, but they are not able to touch, or talk. No comfort, just a reminder of what you can't have.

It is a threat, how he keeps Haymitch in line. The reminder that he can, at any time, make Lenore Dove's life worse. Haymitch spends years and years trying to think of a way to get her out, to save her, and keeps coming up with nothing. At least until the main trilogy.

Wouldn't that be, like, the worst, most fucked up, and tragic AU?

[faggling]

We're home but I'm a 1000x more stressed out here

[5eyed]

some recent sprites for "on the flip side" characters (or rather the dimensional doubles of existing characters lol). ive posted characters from this universe a lot over the years, as its my oldest story that i still work on/think about, but ive never really explained who they are! if youd like to explore the setting and characters of "on the flip side" a bit, i made a carrd for it here (its still a wip but im trying to get it all finished within the month! main characters have fully written out bios & backstories, some side characters still just have basic info.) (also this all takes place in a fictional californian city and if you read this and go "wow that is definitely not how things are in california or the us" sorry i dont know shit im french.)

[faramirsonofgondor]

OK but now I’m imagining how this all looks from the rest of the Batfam’s POV. Like they’ve spent most of their time with Bruce living in Dick’s shadow, trying to measure up to him, trying desperately to fit into his mould. Bruce held them to Dick’s standard. They’ve watched the way Dick sassily parents Bruce and how Bruce actually listens sometimes. It doesn’t really cross their minds that it’s unhealthy for a child to be parenting their own father figure, because all they can focus on is the fact that Bruce lets Dick have that leeway to order him around. They ignore the way Dick always seems to take the brunt of Bruce’s anger and disappointment. They ignore the way Dick’s laugh always gets a little forced whenever one of them jokes about him being the favorite, about him being the Golden Child. Jason’s the one who says it the most, and most of the time it borders on being cruel, but he can’t help the fact that Bruce and everyone else seems worship the ground Dick walks on.

That’s why, when Bruce blames Dick for his own cruelness with such ease, the rest of the family can barely pull themselves together, and by the time they do Bruce is isolating and Dick is gone. Bruce doesn’t come out for days, and Dick doesn’t respond to any of their messages. No matter how much Jason angrily pounds on the door of the room Bruce holed himself up in, no matter how much Tim pleads for him to come out and explain, no matter how much Damian threatens him, Bruce stays put. It’s Babs, in the end, who manages to get him out by telling him that none of them had heard from Dick since it happened. She says that he’s the one who fucked up, so he’s needs to grow up and go try to fix it.

In the meantime, the rest of the family does some digging. It doesn’t take to find the footage they’re looking for. They comb through dozens of videos of Bruce softly speaking to Dick, who’s screaming and kicking and beating on Bruce as a young child. They watch Bruce gently chide Dick, uncaring of the fact that the ten-year-old curses him out for doing so. Then they see Dick, who had to have been 14 at most, but was more likely younger than, being carried into the cave by a wrecked Batman. They watch as Bruce paces his bedside, waiting for him to wake up. But then Dick finally does, and suddenly Bruce is furious, he’s grabbing Dick and squeezing too tight and yelling in a booming voice, demanding to know just what the hell Dick was thinking. They watch the way Dick’s eyes go wide with shock, then fear, as his father turns into a monster before his eyes. They watch as Dick slowly pinches his own arm, out of Bruce’s sight, just to make sure he’s not dreaming. He isn’t, but god does he wish he was.

They comb through more footage, desperately hoping that this was just a one-time thing, that Bruce went back to how he was before. But all they know he didn’t. There’s thousands of hours of footage, and yet none of Bruce’s gentleness can be seen in any of it. Not until Jason arrives. There’s still some harshness in Bruce’s demeanor, like he’d been tainted by the cruelty he’d subjected Dick to. Tim thinks back to the time Dick had been fear gassed, and kept whispering “I’m poison”. He wonders if Dick had been thinking of Bruce then.

Still, there’s a noticeable difference in how Bruce treats Jason. Then Jason dies, and everything changes again. Bruce had been violent then, but he’d never turned his fists onto Tim. No, he’d never punched Tim in the face and told him to leave, not like how they’d watch him do to Dick. He hadn’t been very kind to Tim, though, not for a long time. He’s gotten there, eventually, but it had taken time.

By the time they’re nearing Damian’s arrival in the footage, they’ve decided they’ve seen enough. They all sit in silence, wondering what to do next. They’re not sure, really, since Dick is always the one to mend things, to handle the family issues. They don’t really want to think about what that means, either, so they don’t. They just sit in silence, letting themselves pretend for a moment that their worlds hadn’t been shattered apart. Then, the moment ends, and they all silently vow to have Dick’s back on this, no matter what.

I need Bruce trying to gentle parent Dick as a child. Like maybe Bruce isn’t exactly a good parent but tries. When Dick starts throwing massive tantrums, he just puts Dick in an empty room for time out. This does not stop Dick as he ends up destroying the room despite nothing being in it. When Dick does something Bruce doesn’t approve of, Bruce just says softly “Don’t do that.” Dick does it again. Like I need him trying and failing. Nothing he does works. Then Dick decides to turn that gentle parenting back on Bruce. No whenever Bruce makes him mad, he puts Bruce in a time-out room. Whenever Bruce is being dumb, he just gives him a pout and says “Don’t do that.” Bruce actually does his best to listen to Dick because he thinks it might foster trust or encourage Dick to follow along when Bruce does it to him. It doesn’t really work. Dick still doesn’t listen and now Bruce is being parented by the child he’s supposed to be raising. The only plus is that it calms down Dick’s more violent urges because instead of destroying shit he just sends Bruce away.

Then Dick gets shot, and something in Bruce snaps. There is no more gentle parenting, no more kind words or soft punishments. He needs to make Dick listen, and if that means hurting him, then so be it. He loses sight of the fact that Dick is still a kid, an incredibly traumatized one at that. He still lets Dick parent him, although he’s more snappy about it. Dick stops being soft with him, too, instead telling him harshly to get to bed, threatening to sic Alfred on him, or screaming in his face about how he’s the worst. Somehow they’ve fallen into this horrible dynamic and neither of them know how to get out of it. Dick blames himself for being such a troubled kid, and though Bruce never says it, Dick knows he blames him too. So Dick leaves.

Eventually, over the years their family grows, but Bruce’s softness never really comes back. He’s meaner, more controlling, even downright cruel at times. And one day when the entire batfam is arguing with him over how unreasonable he is, one them snaps and says “Jesus, B, who turned you into such a fucking asshole?” and before Bruce can even think about it, he responds “Dick did.” He closes his mouth in shock, face going ashen while everyone else freezes. The words cut straight into Dick’s heart. He replies with the only words he can think of at the moment “Don’t do that.” He meant for the words to be cold, confident. Instead they came out soft, chiding and pained. Before anyone can say anything else, Bruce turns on his heel and leaves. They all try to follow him to argue more but then stare, confused, as he walks into an empty room, locking the door behind him. He doesn’t come out for a long time.

🥺 rip out my fucking heart why don’t you, damn.

But now I’m just thinking of the scenario with Bruce saying Dick turned him into an asshole, and the whole room freezes.

Jason didn’t expect an actual answer. Tim and Damian thought Bruce would have just chided Jason for his language. Dick thought a Bruce was just going to keep yelling.

But then the way he says, “Dick did” without even thinking about it, without hesitation, it shocks everyone.

And Dick feels like he wants to cry, because sure, he knew he was a pretty fucked up kid. He was troubled. Traumatized. A problem child. But Bruce for the most part had been so patient when he was little. And when Bruce started being an asshole after Dick got shot, it wasn’t like Dick couldn’t fight right back. It was almost like a game, sometimes. But Dick has always felt so guilty about it, because Bruce had been so soft spoken and patient and nice, and then Dick went and fucked him up. Dick ruined him. It’s all Dick’s fault.

Dick has always had that thought in the back of his mind. But he’s never had any real proof that Bruce felt the same.

Now he does. And Dick’s chest feels hollow as he stares at a horrified looking Bruce.

All Dick can manage to say is a soft, desperate, “Don’t do that,” just like Bruce always tried to use with him, before he started using yelling as his go-to response.

Then Bruce turns without saying anything and walks right into an empty room, and Dick feels like he’s going to throw up. He turns too, towards his bike, and he ignores the way his siblings are calling after him. He turns off his comms and rides home, going way too fast, feeling the wind whip around him, and tears blurring his vision until he blinks them away.

When he gets back to his Blüdhaven apartment, he slides in through the window and doesn’t even change out of his costume before he’s puking in the bathroom.

He silences his phone, turns in his security system, and then spends the next hour sitting under the water in his shower, spacing out until the water goes ice cold and he has to get out. Then he crawls into bed, pulls out Zitka from under the pillows to hug to his chest, and buries his head under his pillows. If he doesn’t pay attention to it, he can pretend he’s not still crying because of the guilt.

He stays like that for a long time, not moving. He falls asleep for a while, wakes up in a panic, rinse and repeat.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but the next thing he knows, someone is sitting down on his bed next to him, laying a hesitant hand in his back. And he knows it’s Bruce, and it just makes him feel even worse.

“Go away,” he begs, the words muffled under his pillows.

“I didn’t mean it,” Bruce tries to tell him.

“Yes you did,” Dick says miserably. “And it’s true. I know it’s true, you don’t have to pretend it’s not.”

“It wasn’t you who made me an asshole,” Bruce says. “The situation-”

“Caused by me,” Dick argues.

“You were just a child, Dick.” Bruce sighs.

“A horrible, no good, rotten child!”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Bruce says firmly. “It’s not true, Dick. I don’t care what anyone says, you were not a rotten child. You were just a little boy. I was the adult, and I should have found other solutions that worked for you.”

Dick doesn’t say anything, but he eventually moves out from under the pillows to curl up with his head in Bruce’s lap. Bruce plays with his hair, and the two of them stay quiet for a long time. Neither of them really knows what to say. They’re both still upset. And they’re both awful at dealing with their feelings.

The sadness and anger and guilt they’re feeling from this fight won’t be resolved. They won’t really talk about it. It won’t be talked about without someone else bringing it up, and that won’t happen for a while.

But for now, Bruce is going to comfort his son. And for now, Dick will let him.

[penelopehere]

How They Became Demon Hunters HCs With Huntrix

Rumi

Her backstory is partially explained in the movie, and I built my own headcanons of how her parents met in another one of my post

However it’s very clear that she was raised by Celine to hate her demon side, wanting to hide and even destroy it from a very young age

She was constantly pushed towards being perfect in every aspect of her life, whether that be in sparring, singing, social skills etc

This was all done in the hopes of eventually getting rid of her marks and protecting the world

However, she also thought that being perfect would make up for the fact that she was a mistake

Despite not knowing exactly how her mum died, I believe she would still blame herself; thinking that being half demon brought misfortune to her mum

In regards to her father, she just pictured him as an evil figure that managed to trick her mum and never considered the fact that he may have been a good person

She would also be homeschooled and sheltered for most of her life, any public appearances done purposefully in order to build her life as an idol

Because of this she would be put on a lot of korean variety shows and do interviews when she was a teen in order to get public support early

On the side, she would also train and even hunt demons with Celine so she would be strong enough to lead the next generation of hunters

However the feeling of loneliness would constantly consume her since she had no one that could understand her life as a half-demon, and she didn’t have any genuine friendships at this point

Celine would notice this and tried to reassure Rumi that this was all for the greater good, and that the hunters were all she ever needed

However, this only worked to a certain extent

Eventually though, Celine would introduce Zoey to Rumi for the first time

Rumi finally felt like she could let her guard down a little, instantly bonding with the other teenage girl

She still felt insecure about her demon blood, and Celine warned her to not reveal anything about that side of her so she wouldn’t lose her new friend

So Rumi stayed silent, not saying anything about her heritage even after Mira came to join the group a few months later

Rumi vowed to do whatever it took to protect the world, even if that meant lying to those she loved

Mira

Similar to Rumi, Mira would most likely also be a legacy

However the difference being that not everyone in her family had hunter abilities, so a lot of them had no idea what demons even existed

This was further emphasized by the fact that most of her relatives that did carry these powers were deceased or estranged

Because of this, Mira always felt like the odd one out and never truly knew what made her so different

She tried to express how she felt through her clothing and artworks, but her family- being rather strict- didn’t appreciate her creativity

They refused to listen to her, causing Mira to act out in many ways

She often spent late nights outside by herself, doing whatever she felt like

From this she would spot her first demon, sucking the soul out of someone until they died

She didn’t know how to react, not fully understanding what she was seeing

Once she managed to snap out of her fear she would go to check on the victim, only to find the body was no longer there

From there she would just run, not knowing when to stop until she subconsciously came all the way back to her house

She wanted to scream and tell her parents what happened, but the moment she walked through those doors she realised they wouldn’t believe her and that she was truly alone

She would carry this fear with her as she got older, not truly knowing if there was something wrong with her brain and making her see these things

Sometimes she would try to fight the demons she saw, rarely succeeding due to her lack of proper training

She had to constantly see people because of this, traumatizing her even further

One day however, she was listening to a song and began singing, not noticing the demon in front of her until it began to get repulsed by the music and ran away

She tested this out the next time she found one, blasting the song towards it while fighting

This is when she realised the demons were weakened by the music

She’d track down the artist of the song, eventually finding Celine in a fan meet and trying to see if she knew anything about the monsters she was seeing

She’d try to be subtle at first, not fully revealing everything she saw just in case Celine thought she was crazy

Mira got her contact information, and was told to meet her in a couple days

From this Celine realised Mira also had hunter abilities, and began to train her in secret

Mira’s parents wouldn’t care about her extended absences, relieved that their daughter was no longer getting in trouble with the police or acting out at home

Celine would reveal what hunters and demons were, explaining their history

Mira was skeptical at first

However, with everything that had happened, she had no choice but to believe Celine and for the first time in her life she didn’t think she was crazy

They trained together for a couple months before Celine introduced Mira to two other young teenagers who had the gift; Rumi and Zoey

From then on Mira finally felt like she had a family, and would do everything she could to keep them together

Zoey

Zoey would be a partial legacy, with only one side of her family knowing about demons and hunters

She didn’t know of her abilities at first, thinking all the monsters she saw as a kid were just a figment of her imagination

Especially since by the time she looked back, one of her family members would be there innocently waving and telling her to go play

It wasn't until she was older was it revealed that she had hunter blood inside her, and that she could begin training to become one

Zoey would be ecstatic, believing she was a real life superhero; wanting to tell all her friends and the rest of the family about it

However, this idea was quickly crushed as it was explained to her the importance of protecting their secret; not wanting to worry others with matters they couldn’t control

They also believed it would keep the non-hunter family members safe if they didn’t know about demons or Gwi-Ma

From then on Zoey had to live a double life, training and hunting demons in secret while also pretending to be a normal girl

This was exhausting, especially since she hated lying to parts of her family and felt as though they couldn’t understand her if they didn’t know who she really was

Then with her hunter relatives, because they were all older than her, she constantly felt like she skilled enough to keep up with them

Therefore she was constantly trying to prove herself to both sides, being the perfect kid and warrior at the same time

Her only solace was writing lyrics and using them against demons, feeling as though this was the only time she could unapologetically be herself

However, all these negative feelings eventually began to hinder her training, since she felt too alone and unworthy to focus on fighting

One of her relatives got the idea of contacting a friend in Korea, sending Zoey there to meet them

She was then introduced Celine, who empathised with her difficulties living a double life

Being an idol and hunter, she understood the difficulties that came with lying to those you loved

However, she assured that Zoey that her fellow hunters would always be there to understand her

For a while, Celine assessed and developed Zoey’s skills, impressed with how she could make her own songs in such a short period of time

She then introduced her to Rumi, the two of them instantly connecting over this feeling of loneliness

To Zoey, it felt like they were the only people in the world that understood each other

When Mira came a couple months later, they welcomed her to their small family

Zoey couldn’t believe there were others her age who felt the same way she did, and never wanted any of them to feel alone again

[imaginarianisms]

🖤 for misa about light ??

attractiveness:

repulsive / hideous / ugly / not attractive / unappealing / not unattractive / meh / no preference / ok / mildly attractive / nice looking / cute / adorable / attractive / pleasant on the eyes / good looking / hot / sexy / beautiful / gorgeous / hot damn / would tap that / perfect / godlike / holy fuck there are no words.

personality:

grating / irritating / frustrating / boring / confusing at best / awkward / unreasonable / psychotic / disturbing / interesting / engaging / affectionate / aggressive / ambitious / anxious / artistic / bad tempered / bossy / charismatic / appealing / unappealing / creative / courageous / dependable / unreliable / unpredictable / predictable / devious / dim / extroverted / introverted / egotistical / gregarious / fabulous / impulsive / intelligent / sympathetic / talkative / up beat / peaceful / calming / badass / flexible.

how likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending / fuck no! / never / no way / not likely / not sure / indifferent / I’m asexual / maybe / probably / it depends / fairly likely / likely / yeah sure / yes / would tap that / hell yes / fuck yes! / wishing that could happen right now / as many times as possible / we are already having sex.

level of friendship:

never in a million years / worst of enemies / enemies / rivals / indifferent / neutral / acquaintance / friendly toward each other / casual friends / friends / good friends / best friends / fuck buddies / bosom buddies / practically the same person / would die for them / true friends (eventually, over time) / my only friend. (eventually, over time)

first impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

current impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

send 🖤 and my character will answer about yours; specify. || ALWAYS ACCEPTING || @prodigum.

[lastnightonthecyclone]

Another fucking wip on fnaf because inconsistency is my skill