#and he finds it hard to communicate or express himself

[chaossmagic]

chronically ill bucky barnes is very important to me

[void-tiger]

Cptsd brain be like: SHUT IT DOWN protecprotecprotec (don’t look at me/okay I am ALLOWING you to look at me) imsorry imsorry imsuchaburden wHYareyouevenHERE this is it i’ve finally screwed this up theymustthinkimweakandanidiotandoverreacting

…then…finally… with processing feeling this way for days and people who HAVE doggedly chosen to stay

…maybe…I won’t lose old&new.

[toshkakoshka]

as a jeff winger sympathizer i actually like to think of him as autistic with a high social anxiety issue that forces him to mask the person he used to be as a child. In this essay i will

[hoshigray]

Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?

An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!

Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~

Wc: 902

"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"

You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.

The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.

That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.

You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."

All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.

Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.

You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.

Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).

"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."

"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.

You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"

His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."

You give him a look. "You kinda are."

"And what gives you that—"

"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"

The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.

Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.

"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."

[theemporium]

[7.6k] jack totally wasn't in love with his frat's president. and he totally wasn't in love with his president's girlfriend. and this totally isn't the story of how the three of them realised they fell in love with each other. (smut)

.

“Really?” 

You bit back the grin threatening to take over your face, attempting to school your features to a neutral expression as you glanced down at the textbook opened up in front of you. You let out a hum in response, but didn’t glance over at your boyfriend who was sprawled on his bed a few feet away from you.

“You are a menace.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, finding Nico already staring back at you with an amused expression on his face—despite what his downturned frowning lips said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you answered eventually with an innocent look.

Nico shot you a look. “Baby.”

“Nico,” you retorted in the same serious tone.

A few moments passed before he looked away, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he glanced down at his phone. “He’s going to get such a big head if he sees this,” he murmured, though there was something fond in his voice. “God knows Jack doesn’t need a bigger head.”

You raised your brows. “Does that mean you’re gonna keep it?”

“You’ll just change it back anyways,” Nico retorted, and you didn’t disagree with him. 

Instead, you stood up from the seat by his desk where you had been studying before he came in from class around thirty minutes ago. You made your way towards the bed, not even fighting your boyfriend as he reached for you and tugged you to lay on top of him. You propped your head on his chest, grinning at him.

“The contact name fits him and you know it does,” you said in a knowing voice. 

“Favourite Pledge is hardly a creative name anyways,” Nico deflected, but you saw right through him. 

One of the things you loved about Nico Hischier was his loyalty. It was one of those defining traits that made you fall more in love with him than you ever deemed humanly possible. He was loyal to his family, to his friends, to anyone that meant the world to him. His heart was split, little pieces given to those he trusted with it and the whole frat inevitability was a part of that. 

He loved his frat brothers. He loved them when he first joined. He loved them as more of them entered and pledged. He loved them when they appointed him president, even when he was just a sophomore. The frat loved him as much as he loved them. 

But it was an undeniable fact to anyone with working eyes that he had a soft spot for the new pledge, Jack Hughes. 

He didn’t admit it out loud. He always claimed to love his brothers equally, that it was impossible to have favourites. Though, you knew he just felt a little bad about it. He felt guilty that the younger boy had claimed a little bit more of his heart than the other frat brothers had. 

Yet, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, Jack Hughes had wiggled his way into his heart. 

You knew it stemmed from the fact the Swiss saw a bit of himself in the boy. Though Nico adored the frat and the community it gave him, he wasn’t shy of the fact he only joined to follow his older brother’s footsteps—something Jack himself had also done. 

The fact Jack had also tried out for the university’s hockey team—and was incredibly talented on the ice—was the final nail in the coffin for Nico (even if he still tried to deny the coffin existed). 

“But it’s true,” you sang with a smug look on your face. 

Nico rolled his eyes but the action was fond. “He was gonna grab some coffee on his way back from class, do you want anything?” 

“The usual,” you answered, leaning down to peck his lips before you moved to sit back at his desk. “Oh, ask him if he can get one of those muffins too. The lemon one.”

There was a pause as Nico typed out his reply before he snorted. “He said he already picked one up for you.”

Your expression brightened. “Well, if he isn’t your favourite pledge, then he definitely is mine.”

Nico shook his head. “So now you’re stealing him from me?’

“Is this you admitting he’s your favourite pledge?” You retorted. 

A few moments of silence passed, neither one of you saying anything nor looking away. Seconds ticked by, Nico’s phone continued to buzz on the bed and a ping sounded from your laptop when an email came through. But still, neither one of you looked away.

Until the buzzing became more insistent and Nico’s eyes snapped down to look at his screen, something fond in his gaze as messages about Jack complaining on how long the coffee was taking came through. 

“Ha! I was right!” You grinned, clapping your hands together but Nico didn’t have it in him to argue this time. 

He had shifted to sit with his back against the headboard and his laptop lying across his thighs when Jack finally burst through the bedroom door fifteen minutes later, holding a carrier of coffees and a bag of sweet treats. 

“Miss me?” 

You turned to see Jack already beginning to make himself comfortable as he dumped his backpack by the door and toed off his shoes. He handed you your coffee first with the lemon muffin in his other hand. “Mrs President.”

You snorted. “Thank you, Jack.”

He beamed before he grabbed Nico’s coffee and the cookie Nico pretended not to like (even though he really, really did). “Mr President.” 

“You’re in a chipper mood today,” Nico noted as he thanked the younger boy, taking the coffee and cookie to place on the bedside table beside him. He then turned towards Jack again, mouth open like he was about to say something—only for Jack to faceplant down on the bed the second the coffee was out of his hands. “You good?” 

“Tired,” he grumbled, his words muffled with his face buried into the duvet. “Plus, algebra sucks.”

Nico’s face softened a little. “You should take a nap, we have a big game later.”

“M’fine,” he murmured in response, but it convinced no one.

“Sleep, Jack,” you said as you glanced at the boy, his eyes already shut but his shoulders tense like he was preparing himself to sit up again. “You can nap here.”

Jack froze before lifting his head, blinking slowly as he stared between you and Nico. “Really?”

“Sleep here,” Nico confirmed with a nod, reaching over to playfully ruffle his hair. However, the act just made Jack slump back down onto the bed, his face buried in the duvet once again. “I’ll wake you up so we can eat before the game.”

“M’kay,” he managed to mutter out, seconds away from falling asleep.

Nico watched with a small smile before he grabbed a blanket, placing it over Jack and making sure he was settled before he grabbed his laptop to work again. He cleared his throat a little, though the smile never left his face as he began to type away.

“Oh, you’re so obvious,” you murmured with a snort.

Nico glanced up at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Hm, I’m sure,” you mused as you settled back in your chair. “So, you’d just let anyone nap on your bed? With your favourite blanket?”

He shot you a look. “I let you do it all the time.”

Your grin widened. “Exactly.” 

Nico rolled his eyes, refusing to continue the conversation any further. And because you were a nice girlfriend, you chose not to mention the light pink tint to his cheeks. Or the fond smiles Nico would give Jack whenever he glanced over. 

Or the photo you snuck of the two of them, curled up and looking so comfy in bed together. 

…

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, the boys smashed the game with a 7-1 win to continue their nine game win streak. 

And to celebrate their win, the frat decided to hold a massive—and last minute—rager in honour of Nico, Jack and the rest of the hockey team. Though, you weren’t convinced it was as last minute as Trevor made it out to be considering the kegs were definitely being delivered to the house before you left to go watch the game.

The house was packed with frat brothers, hockey teammates and strangers alike, with no real invitation but with an overwhelming need to celebrate by getting shit-faced drunk nonetheless. Music was blasting from the countless speakers set around the house, every open surface looked like an Ibiza bar with bottles sprawled across it and the hockey boys were getting their chance to really celebrate with no practice or game until next week holding them back.

“Drink up, Mrs P!” 

You bit back your laugh as you inspected the cup Trevor was handing you. His cheeks were flushed, his grin was huge and you had no doubt that whatever was in the cup was the result of him and Cole concocting their own makeshift cocktails to get people as drunk as they were. 

“Do I even want to know what’s in this?” You questioned, a teasing glint in your voice as you sniffed the cup. 

Trevor didn’t even look bashful. “Don’t worry, we made sure to add more of Nico’s fancy Swiss lager in yours. He can’t get mad at us then.”

You actually did laugh this time. “You boys need to stop putting me in the crossfire. He’s your president.” 

“And you’re our Mrs President,” Trevor retorted. “It’s literally your job to stop him from killing us.”

“I don’t remember signing up for this.”

“You do it because you love us?” Trevor replied, a boyish grin on his face that made your heart warm in your chest. 

“Yeah, I do love you idiots,” you grumbled, though there was a smile on your face as you patted his cheek, amused at the way his grin widened at the action. 

“Maybe some of us more than others,” he supplied, something mischievous glinting in his eyes. 

You sighed. “Trevor, if this is about me giving Cole the last slice of apple pie—”

“I’m talking about Jack and we both know it.” he sang, delighted in the way you quickly stopped talking. “I see the way you and Nico look at him.”

You frowned a little. “We don’t love him more than we love the rest of you—”

“You love the rest of us like we are your kids,” Trevor corrected, still thoroughly amused by the conversation. “You and Nico look at Jack like you want to sleep with him.”

You let out a startled laugh. “Trev—”

“And he looks like he would take anything you give him,” the boy continued, looking far too smug at the way you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t worry, Mrs P, I’ll keep your secret.” 

You didn’t get a chance to respond before the boy had wandered off, disappearing into the throng of partygoers. Though, if you were being completely honest with yourself, you weren’t even sure what you would have replied with. Maybe it was a blessing he walked away first.

“You good?”

You blinked before turning your head, finding Nico standing there with his brows furrowed in concern. You could feel his hand on your lower back, a soft and comforting touch that you leaned into. 

“Yeah,” you said and flashed him a smile. “Just contemplating if I want to risk drinking whatever Trevor and Cole made me.” 

Nico snorted but it was fond. “I’ll hold your hair back later if you risk it.”

You grinned. “My hero.”

“Always,” Nico grinned back, leaning down to peck your lips before he dragged you back to the party in the direction of the back garden where the hockey team seemed to have accumulated. 

Yet, no matter how hard you tried, Trevor’s words lingered with you for the rest of the party, playing on a loop you couldn’t stop.

…

The irony of it all was that you knew, deep down, Trevor was right. 

It shouldn’t have been a shock when it was something you had been aware of for a while, even subconsciously. As much as you teased and taunted Nico, there was something different about Jack in comparison to the other pledges and frat brothers. It wasn’t a favouritism, it went beyond that. There was something more with Jack, something deeper. 

And you always knew it. 

It just took the realisation that other people—that Trevor—had noticed it too. It wasn’t this secret hidden in your heart or an inside joke between you and Nico, it was beyond that. Your feelings weren’t as subtle as you thought. And neither were Nico’s. And apparently neither were Jacks’.

Everyone saw it but you three, and now you were painfully aware and pining.

Because that was the only way you could describe how you had felt since the party. You had been pining after Jack. It was like the conversation with Trevor opened the box you had desperately been locking shut, and now you were overwhelmed with your feelings for the younger boy. 

And Nico noticed too. 

He hadn’t mentioned it, not directly. But he noticed a shift in you since the party. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on Jack a little longer than usual when he walked in a room. He noticed the way you seemed to drag Jack to sit with the two of you whenever you got the chance. He noticed the way your touch would linger on Jack, the way you did with him. 

It made his stomach twist with a desire he didn’t know was possible, he didn’t know he wanted.

It was enthralling to watch you watch Jack, to watch you look at Jack the same way you look at him. Maybe because he knew he was no different. He knew it was all leading to something, you did too. 

Neither of you expected it to happen just two weeks after the party when the frat found themselves at the campus bar on a random Thursday.

It was somewhere between your second and third drink. The frat were spread across the establishment: some were by the bar chatting with some strangers, others were playing pool on the tables at the back, the rest were sprawled over the booths and seats around the room. 

You had settled on a small couch, a vodka rum in hand as you watched Trevor and Cole attempt to talk up some girls from one of their shared classes a few feet away. Trevor had been insistent he could get their numbers, and Cole had just wanted to be close enough to see the trainwreck. And you had thoroughly enjoyed watching them both. 

“Budge up!” 

You let out a small huff when Jack unexpectedly collapsed onto the couch beside you, but you didn’t argue as you shifted until you were both squished together. Your thigh was pressed against his, your shoulders shoved together, but neither of you moved away even if there was enough space on the couch to put a few inches between you. 

“You seem chipper,” you commented, eyeing the flush to his cheeks and the grin on his face. You wonder how many beers one of the older brothers had slipped him through the night.

“Just handed Turc’s ass in pool,” Jack told you, puffing his chest proudly. 

“That’s shocking considering you’re shit,” you teased, nudging into his side a little. 

“Hey, that was an unfair advantage one time!” Jack huffed, but he was still smiling. “Nico was cheating.” 

You snorted. “How?” 

“I don’t know but nobody is naturally that good at pool,” he grumbled as he shifted back into the couch, his body sagging like the night was starting to catch up on him. “I think we should team up.” 

You raised your brows. “To what? Beat him at pool?”

“Mhm,” Jack nodded in confirmation. “We could distract him.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” You questioned, thoroughly amused. 

“I think our pretty faces are enough,” he answered confidently. “Bat a couple eyelashes, maybe throw a few flirty comments in there and he’ll be useless.”

This time you actually laughed and Jack’s smile widened at the sound.

“What? You don’t think I could do it?”

“Oh no, I think you could and you’d be dangerous,” you assured him, shifting in your seat until your body was facing him. “I think my flirting would be lacklustre in comparison to yours.”

He gave you a small shove. “Nah, you have him wrapped around your finger. He would fold at whatever you said.”

Almost instinctively, your eyes began searching the bar for your boyfriend before you found him on the other side of the room. He was standing by one of the pool tables, leaning against the cue as he watched Jesper take a shot with a fond smile on his face. He looked laid back, his flannel abandoned somewhere to leave him in the tight-fitting t-shirt, his cap placed backwards on his head to keep his hair out of his face. He looked relaxed, young even. Like he didn’t have the responsibility of a frat, hockey and college on his mind. 

And like he could sense you, his eyes turned to look at you and his smile widened. He glanced at you, and then the boy beside you, before his gaze returned to you. 

And then, the little fucker winked. 

“See,” Jack said, laughing a little but it sounded off. 

You turned back to look at Jack, finding his eyes still locked on Nico. You noticed the slight flush to his cheeks, and a part of you wondered if he was just as affected by your boyfriend as you were. You wondered how long you had been oblivious to it if this was how he was staring at Nico. You wondered if he looked at you the same way. 

“He’s no better with you,” you eventually spoke, watching as his eyes quickly snapped back to you. His cheeks went redder. “Don’t underestimate that pretty face of yours.”

And you could see the cogs turning in his head. You could see him picking apart your words, can see the way he shifts in his spot. And you can see the way he tries to act like it doesn’t affect him when it does.

“You think I’m pretty?” 

Because he’s Jack and when things get overwhelming, he resorts to some weird mix of joking and flirting because it feels safer than whatever the truth is. Because you knew as much as he wanted to believe you, he couldn’t quite admit it out loud yet, admit it to himself. 

And you also knew he sometimes just needed a push in the right direction.

“I think,” you started as you lifted your hand, hesitating for a small moment before you pushed your fingers through his hair. You watched his eyes flutter shut, his body leaning further into your touch. “You’re one of the prettiest people I know.”

He gulped a little, blinking his eyes open. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a nod. 

And maybe it was the newfound realisation of your feelings. Or maybe it was the confidence you felt in the way he stared at you, like you hung the fucking moon. Or maybe it was a cumulation of the alcohol you had drunk since you arrived that fuelled it all. 

You weren’t sure what it was. 

But his eyes dropped to your lips for a few seconds too long and the next thing you knew, you were leaning in and pressing your lips against his. 

Your hand dropped to cup his cheek, the growing stubble brushed against your palm as you deepened the kiss. He let out a noise, something sweet and whiny and you wanted to bottle it up to listen to it forever. He let you guide the kiss, let you take control as your tongue swiped along his bottom lip. 

His eyes were still shut when you parted for a few seconds. But yours were open and staring just past his head, where Nico was standing. 

He was already staring at you, both of you. And you knew he wouldn’t be mad, but there was still something about the pure lust and want in his gaze that made your stomach dip. The way his lips twitched upwards when he saw you staring back, the way he nodded his head a little like it was a challenge. 

He was halfway across the room and, yet, still seemed to be enjoying this as much as the two of you. 

But before you could even bring yourself to take him up on his challenge, before you could close the distance between you and Jack and kiss him again, he was pulling away completely.

“Shit,” he breathed out, his wide eyes staring at you with an expression full of surprise and shock. 

Your brows furrowed. “Jack?”

“Shit,” he repeated, and you barely had a chance to wrap your head around any of it before he was quickly standing up. He stared at you, his face scrunched up and his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Jack,” you called out, your voice soft and concerned as you reached out for him but he jerked away from the touch.

“I am so sorry,” was all he managed to get out before he made a beeline towards the door.

You watched him rush out like he was being chased before your head turned, finding Nico watching the exit with a mixed expression of hurt and concern. 

And as you stood there, in the middle of the bar, feeling oddly cold and confused about the last thirty seconds, you couldn’t help but feel like you fucked something up without realising it.

…

Jack was avoiding you. 

He thought he was being subtle with it, but it was clear to everyone what was happening. He was hardly in the house anymore unless it was to sleep. And even then, he was still going out of his way to leave insanely early and come back very late. You hardly even saw him on campus. 

You hardly saw him at all.

And it was one thing if he was avoiding you, but he was avoiding Nico too and you could tell it was hurting him. You could tell it bothered him that Jack was hardly around the house, that he was having to get updates from Trevor or the other boys, that he went out of his way to avoid Nico at hockey practice too. 

It hurt and everyone could see the three of you suffering, but Trevor the worst. 

“He thinks you hate him,” the boy said one day when you were in the kitchen, pushing your pasta around your plate with no real appetite to eat.

You frowned. “What?” 

“Jack thinks you and Nico hate him because of what happened at the bar,” Trevor continued, shrugging his shoulders. “Something about making you kiss him and getting between your relationship.”

Your frown deepened. “But I kissed him. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not how he sees it,” Trevor muttered, the usual smile on his face replaced with a concerned frown. “He thinks Nico is going to kick him out the frat.”

You dropped your fork. “What? That’s insane! Nico would never do that.”

“That’s what he believes though and the guy can be fucking stubborn,” Trevor huffed out. “I have tried telling him he is overthinking it but he just gets upset about it. He thinks he is delaying the inevitable.”

You let out a sigh.

Trevor continued. “He just needs to realise that he didn’t ruin his president’s relationship and that you both actually want to fuck him—”

“Trevor.” 

“—and then everything will be fine,” he concluded like it was easy. Like you could just walk up to Jack and tell him as much. As if he hadn’t been actively avoiding you for the last week.

“Yeah, that’s all,” you murmured, your mind wandering as the boy continued to ramble on about some business analytics class he was taking.

…

In classic president fashion, Nico was the one who had enough of the weird game the three of you had been playing for the last few weeks. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he was going to do what he did best, and he was going to fix the mess. 

He couldn’t handle seeing you heartbroken over it any longer.

He couldn’t handle Jack hiding away from him like he was a stranger. 

He couldn’t handle the overwhelming emptiness in his chest that had been haunting him since Jack ran out of the bar.

He couldn’t fucking handle any of it anymore.

All in all, it was embarrassingly easy to manipulate and puppeteer the whole thing. It was a bit of a slap in the face, to realise that something could have been done weeks ago. But Nico tried not to linger on the thought for too long. 

Plus, getting Jack in the same room as the two of you was the easy part.

Convincing him the two of you were just as gone for him as he was for you was going to be the hard part. Especially considering the fact Jack was one of the most stubborn and iron-willed people he had ever met in his life.

But he would be damned if another day went by where Jack Hughes didn’t know how the two of you felt for him. 

“Trev, how many books do you have that you need my help with?”

“I borrowed a lot! The librarian likes me.”

“And why have you not returned then?”

“...I forgot.” 

Nico could feel you tense beside him as the voices on the other side of the door got closer. He reached over, placing a warm and comforting hand on the small of your back as you sagged back against him. The footsteps got closer and closer until there was a pause. 

“Isn’t this Nico’s room?”

“Uh, no!”

“Trev—” 

The next thirty seconds passed in a blink of the eye. The door swung open and you could pinpoint the exact moment Jack saw the two of you. His eyes widened, his face fell and he was frozen in his spot. It gave Trevor more than enough time to shove him deeper into the room, call out a ‘you’re welcome!’ before he slammed the door shut behind him. 

Jack cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m just gonna—”

“No,” Nico stepped forward, trying to hide the desperate tint to his words. “No, stay. Please.” 

Jack shifted in his spot. “I have some homework to—”

“Jack,” Nico interrupted, a deep sigh following as he shot the younger boy a look. “We know you’re ignoring us.”

Jack froze before he let out a strained laugh. “What? No! I’ve just been busy—”

“Jack.” This time you stepped forward, a frown painted on your lips. “Please, we know. We aren’t stupid.”

“Talk to us,” Nico said as he continued to walk forward until he was only a few steps from the boy. “Talk to me.” 

Jack glanced between the two of you, a conflict clearly playing out in his head before he eventually blurted out, “I didn’t mean to be a homewrecker!” 

Nico blinked, his brows furrowed together. “A what?”

You shook your head. “Jack—”

“I-I just…listen, you don’t have to say it. I get it. I know.” Jack swallowed, shifting in his spot once again. “I didn’t mean to…I…” There was a pause before he let out a breath. “You don’t have to worry about me…doing anything again. I won’t. I promise. And…and if you want me to leave the frat, I get it.” 

His eyes were focused on the ground, staring at some random spot between his feet as he finally got out the words that had been weighing heavily on his chest for the last few weeks. But with his gaze downward, he missed the way Nico’s face softened completely at his admission. 

“And if we want you to do it again?” 

Jack blinked before he lifted his head. “What?”

Nico swallowed before he closed the small distance between them, keeping his eyes on the boy. “And what if we want you to do it again? What if we don’t want you to stop?”

He blinked with a look of pure discombobulation on his face. “Huh? But I…I kissed your girlfriend.” 

“Jack.” Nico sighed, and it sounded so fond as he lifted his hands to hold the younger boy’s face. “You kissed my girlfriend.” 

“Uh, yeah, I just said that,” Jack murmured, his cheeks burning.

“I am not mad, I like kissing my girlfriend too,” Nico told him.

Jack frowned a little. “Well, yeah, she’s your girlfriend—”

“And,” Nico interrupted, taking a deep breath before he continued. “She liked kissing you too.” 

Jack blinked. 

“If anything, I was jealous she kissed you first,” he continued, his thumbs lightly swiping over the apples of his cheek.

“Oh,” was the only response Jack managed. 

You made your way over, leaning against your boyfriend’s arms as you stared at Jack with a soft smile on your lips. “He’s wanted to kiss you for a while. You are his favourite.”

Nico’s lips twitched upwards but, for the first time, he didn’t deny it. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.” 

Jack looked between the two of you as he tried to process the last thirty seconds in his head. And then he let out a laugh, a little nervous and hesitant. “You…you want to kiss me too?” 

Nico nodded.

“Is this, like, some weird couples kink?” Jack blurted out, blood roaring in his ears and he was half-tempted to pull away if he knew he wouldn’t miss Nico’s touch on him. “Or has Trevor set you up to this? Because that is not cool—”

And then, Nico was kissing him.

Albeit, it was short and nowhere near as passionate as the one you and Jack shared at the bar, but it got the job done. It shut the boy up. It showed him this was far from a joke.

“For fuck’s sake, Jack,” Nico groaned as he pulled away, resting their foreheads together like he tended to do after goal celebrations on the ice. “We are in love with you, you idiot. You wrecked nothing.” 

Jack let out a shaky breath as he pulled back a little. “You’re what?”

You stepped forward, catching his hand in yours before he stepped away completely. “This isn’t a joke. This isn’t some weird kink. This is just us telling you that we like you. Love you, even. This is us asking you to fix whatever mess we accidentally created because, Jack, I can’t handle you ignoring us again. We can’t handle that.”

His face softened. “You mean it?” 

“Every word,” you confirmed with a nod.

“You want me?” He asked, and it broke your heart a little. You don’t think you had ever heard Jack Hughes sound so doubtful, so unsure of himself.

“We want you, baby,” Nico murmured, his hand dropping to cup the back of Jack’s neck as he smiled at the boy. 

“I—” Jack’s shoulders sagged a little, like he could finally breathe for the first time in weeks. Like the weight and lingering guilt had been removed from his shoulders. “Shit, I really dragged this out, huh?” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “We got there eventually.”

“Even after I ran out on you?” Jack questioned.

“You can make it up to me,” you retorted, something mischievous shining in your eyes.

Almost instinctively, Jack’s eyes snapped over to Nico like he was seeking permission. 

Nico smiled a little, squeezing his neck once again in reassurance. “You don’t have to ask. You can just kiss her, baby.” 

“I know, I just…” He trailed off, his cheeks pretty and rosy and it made something twist deep in Nico’s gut. 

“You want me to tell you what to do?” Nico asked, his voice a little lower. A little gruff. “Need a little guidance, hm?” 

Jack swallowed but nodded, a little shy.

“Hm, gonna listen?” He continued to taunt the boy, feeling Jack’s pulse thump beneath his palm. “Not gonna be a brat?”

“Promise,” Jack nodded.

Nico smiled and it made his heart lurch with desire. “Kiss her, baby. Make it up to her.”

Jack’s eyes shifted over to you. 

You were watching him with a fond smile, head tilted in curiosity as you watched the interaction play out between the two of him. The second his attention was on you, you raised your brows in challenge, waiting to see if he really would listen to Nico’s instructions. 

There were only a few beats of hesitation before Jack leaned forward, one hand on your face and the other on your waist as he pulled you towards him. The kiss was nothing like the one from the bar, it was far better. It almost felt like he had been holding back on you before.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you sunk into the kiss, as you let Jack take control this time, as you let him express the months of wanting and pining he had been holding onto him. You could feel his arm around your waist tightening, could feel his body pressed against yours as he held you close. 

Nico settled behind Jack, his hands on the younger boy’s waist as he watched with pure desire and intent in his gaze. 

You let out a small gasp when he nipped your bottom lip before pulling away, both of you panting and desperately breathing in the air your lungs were crying out for.

“Hm,” Nico hummed, his chin hooked on Jack’s shoulder as he looked at you. “What do you say, baby? Think he made up for the last few weeks?”

You almost felt like you were in a daze as you shook your head. “More.”

“More?” Nico grinned, squeezing Jack’s waist. “What do you say, Jack? Wanna give our girl more?”

He gulped a little at the use of ‘our girl’. 

“You want to make her feel good? Beg for her forgiveness?” Nico continued, his head dipping down until his lips were tracing over Jack’s neck. He felt the boy shiver as he pressed a kiss to his pulse point. “Want me to teach you what she likes?” 

“Please,” Jack breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck. Please. Yes.”

Nico lifted his gaze to look at you—a look you knew all too well.

“Bed. Now.” 

The hands on his waist kept Jack locked in place as he watched you step out of his hold. He watched you continue to walk backwards until you reached the edge of the bed and quickly settled yourself down on the mattress, looking at Nico with that same expression Jack had given him earlier. 

Nico pulled Jack closer, his chest pressed against the younger boy’s back as his breath tickled along his skin. Jack’s eyes fluttered shut as he began to kiss along his neck, teeth grazing against the sensitive spots that made his body push back into Nico’s. 

He leaned back against the boy, his head falling back on his shoulder as Nico’s hands began to wander. 

“Take off your pants,” Nico said to you, his voice rougher than moments earlier as he pushed one hand under the hem of Jack’s shirt.

Jack let out a small sound, a whimpering noise that was borderline embarrassing but Nico didn’t seem to mind. Instead, the boy lifted his head from Jack’s neck and used his free hand to grip his chin and turn his head so he could finally kiss him properly. 

You watched them from your spot on the bed as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. You watched the way Nico held Jack’s face, the way his tongue swept along his lips before sinking into his mouth. You watched the way Jack’s body keened under the touch, the way his body shifted to seek more of him. You watched the way they fit together so well, like a perfect match.

Your boys.

Yours.

“Look at her,” Nico grumbled as he pulled away, despite the fact Jack kept shifting closer to kiss him again. “So impatient. Such a brat.” 

Jack blinked slowly, his brain feeling like it was ten seconds behind as he turned his head to look at you. His lips parted in surprise as he found you sitting on Nico’s bed, clad in your shirt (it was really one of Nico’s) and your panties with your fingers tracing the waistband.

“M’not a brat,” you responded with a huff.

Nico grinned, leaning down to lightly nip Jack’s earlobe. “She’s such a brat,” he murmured, his large hand still splayed on Jack’s stomach and it made his head feel funny. “Gonna help me take care of her?” 

He nodded.

“Go on then,” Nico said as he lightly patted Jack on his ass before stepping back. “Kneel in front of her. Be a good boy.” 

He bit back the small whine he wanted to let out as he closed the distance between you and him, pausing for a moment when you reached for his shirt and yanked him down to kiss him. He sunk into the kiss quickly, letting out a relieved moan as he felt your tongue exploring his mouth. 

He placed his hands on either side of you, happy to just feel your lips on his and hear the little sighs you let out against his mouth. 

“Touch me, Jack,” you murmured softly between kisses. 

Jack’s brain short circuited as he pulled back to look at you, hooded eyes blinking as he took in your glossy eyes and flushed expression. Almost instinctively, his eyes darted downwards to see the way you were clenching your thighs together. 

“Beg him,” Nico spoke from a few feet away.

Jack gulped a little as he glanced back up at you, seeing the same hint of desperation he felt bubbling inside him.

“Please touch me, baby,” you whispered, leaning closer until your noses were brushing against each other and you could feel the shaky breath he let out. “Fuck, Jack, I wanna know how you feel. Thought about it so many times. Thought about you inside me.”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Shit.” 

Because, if Jack Hughes was completely honest with himself, the whole thing felt like a dream. He had many of them since he joined the frat, since he met you and Nico and felt every perspective he had on his sexuality be thrown out the window. He had so many that eventually the guilt washed away to a more permanent emotion. 

He lost track of the amount of times he dreamed of your soft hands or Nico’s board shoulders or his lips on either one of yours. He lost track of the amount of times he woke up hot and sweaty and panting in his bed. He lost track of the amount of times he fisted his cock in the shower, early in the morning when no one else was awake and he didn’t have to hide his pants and moans of your names as he came. 

A small part of him was waiting for the moment to hit. He was waiting for the dream to no longer feel so real, for the edges to start to blur as his body began to wake up. He was waiting to wake up in his bed, hit with a pang of longing and loneliness with only a hard cock to show for it. 

But he didn’t want this dream to end. 

This felt like one of his most realistic ones yet and he wasn’t ready to let it go, he wasn’t ready to face his reality. He wasn’t ready for it to be fake. 

He squeezed the fat of your thighs as he guided your legs over his shoulder, as he kissed and sucked up and down the skin of your inner thighs like he always wanted to do. He clung onto you like his dream would rip you away, like he could prevent himself from being torn away from between your thighs.

Jack listened to the way you moaned and sighed beneath his touch, the way you cried out his name as his tongue swiped along your clothed cunt and sucked the fabric in his mouth. He clung onto the way your thighs squeezed his ears as his fingers tugged the fabric of your panties to the side, as he finally got his mouth on your pussy. 

He wasn’t ready to wake up and lose this. He wasn’t ready to wake up and lose the way Nico’s fingers felt tangled in his hair as he guided Jack’s head up as he ate you out. He wasn’t ready to lose the way Nico’s body felt pressed against his back, whispering what a good job he was doing as his lips wrapped around his earlobe the same way Jack was doing to your clit.

He needed to keep this. 

He needed this to be real. 

He needed—

“You’re so perfect, Jack,” Nico groaned from behind him, his hand reaching around to dip under the waistband of his trousers. “So fucking perfect. Our pretty boy, hm?” 

He needed it all to be real. 

Jack groaned against your cunt when Nico wrapped his hand around his cock, his hand so much bigger than his own. He took a moment, leaning his forehead against your thigh as Nico’s thumb lightly circled the head of his cock in a way that made his whole body shake.

“C’mon, baby, you said you wanted to make our girl feel good,” Nico whispered in his ear, pressed up against him as he continued to stroke his cock. “You only get to come when she comes.” 

“Nico,” Jack panted out, his eyes clenched shut as the older boy’s fist tightened around him.

“You said you’d be my good boy, Jack.”

“I will,” he breathed out, groaning as he bucked his hips. “I am.”

“Then make her come.” 

He needed this to be real. He wanted it to be real so fucking badly. He wanted this to be the life he lived, the life he had wished for constantly. He wanted for it to be you and him and Nico, he wanted it all. And maybe it made him greedy, but he needed it.

And Jack could feel everything building up. 

He could feel the way your body tensed and shook underneath him as he licked and sucked and kissed your soaking cunt, as he wrapped his lips around your clit until your back was arching off the bed. He could feel the hot rush of pleasure wash down his spine as Nico continued to stroke his cock, whispering filthy words in his ear that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He could feel the overwhelming rush of emotions bubbling inside him, ready to spill into some cold, bitterness when he woke up alone.

He could feel it all and it all came crashing down at once, it felt like it fucking winded him.

And he couldn’t bear to open his eyes at first. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes and see his own room around him. To see the sun shining in through his window because he forgot to close the curtains the night before. To see himself alone in his bed. To see whatever ungodly hour he had woken up at this time.

He couldn’t bear it just yet.

And then he felt a warmth against his back. It was comforting and familiar and he craved to feel more of it. And he felt a hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp in a way that made him whine a little.

“Shhh, you did so well, baby. So well for us, Jack,” a voice whispered, deep and rich and soothing. A voice he craved to hear constantly. 

Nico.

Because it wasn’t a dream. None of it was a dream. It was real. It was all real life. It was him and you and Nico. It was the three of you and neither of you were going anywhere and Jack wasn’t about to wake up in his room alone. 

It was all fucking real. 

“There he is,” you mused, your hand running through his hair as you watched his bleary eyes blink up at you. “Our pretty boy.” 

His cheeks flushed in response. 

“C’mon, need to get you cleaned up. I’ll get you another pair of sweatpants to wear and then we can nap, okay?” Nico asked, hardly giving Jack a chance to even answer before he pressed a kiss to the side of his head and stood up. 

He hated how cold he felt without Nico behind him.

“You okay?” You asked, your voice soft and concerned, and he just wanted to close his eyes and rest his head on your lap and stay there forever.

“Is this real?” He blurted out, only slightly embarrassed by his own bashfulness as you smiled down at him.

“So real, baby,” you murmured before tugging his head back enough to lean down and kiss him. “So fucking real.”

“Good,” he hummed as his eyes fluttered shut. “I love you both too, you know?”

“Yeah, we know.” 

And there was more to talk about. So much more to discuss and work out and really talk about. You knew that. Nico knew that. Jack knew it too. But it could wait. You had waited months to admit your feelings to yourselves and each other. You could wait just a little longer. 

It was a conversation to be had later, when you weren’t cuddled on Nico’s bed with both your boys pressed up against you as you surrendered yourself to the sleep your body was fighting. 

.

[dollfacefantasy]

little drabble while i go back and forth between longer fics <3

jason todd x reader

Brown leather comes up over charcoal kevlar when Jason pulls his jacket into place. He shrugs it on before bending over and adjusting the kick pads fastened to his boots. You watch from your seat on the edge of the bed. You watch your lover conceal himself piece by piece. The tight fabric molds over his scarred body like a second skin.

You chew the inside of your cheek as a way of dealing with your frayed nerves. This feeling was becoming a constant in your life. Every night he went out, every morning he came back bloody and bruised. It was getting to the point where being calm brought on anxiety because it didn't feel right.

Swallowing hard, your eyes stay locked onto him as he goes through his routine. When he turns around, his gaze lands on you. In an instant, he knows something's wrong. He'd only been back for a little while but dying hadn't stripped him of his talent for reading your emotions.

"What's the matter, doll?" he asks.

You shake your head and shrug, trying to communicate that it was nothing without saying it was nothing. Because it was something and your voice would betray that with one syllable.

He seems to understand regardless and approaches you. His hand finds its place under your chin and guides your face upwards to look at him.

"C'mon, you know you can tell me anything," he says softly.

"I just… I don't want you to go," you say, the words coming out close to a whisper, "I hate that you still go out there every night. I just got you back. I don't wanna lose you again."

His expression grows more tender. He sits on the bed next to you and pulls you into his lap.

"Oh baby…" he coos.

You're engulfed by his frame. It seemed even bigger since he came back. Your head sinks to its preferred spot on his shoulder against his neck while his palm sweeps up and down your back. These little techniques to soothe you had become apart of a routine performed as often as him getting ready. It never led to him actually staying home though. The lust for revenge that coursed through his veins was practically coded into his dna. He'd still head out as soon as your emotions had settled, but he never passed up a chance to take care of you.

"You're not gonna lose me again, sweetheart. No way," he whispers and kisses your temple. His large body sways back and forth a bit with you in his lap. "I would never let that happen. No one's taking me away from you. I'll be out for a little while, but you know I'll come back in the morning."

You nod reluctantly and run an exhausted hand over your face.

"That's right," he murmurs before landing another kiss, "I'll be back before you wake. You'll fall asleep and then when you open your eyes I'll be there waiting for you."

You nod again and slide your arms around him to give one last lingering hug. He returns it, his grip much tighter than yours. A final kiss later, and he's up. You're placed on the mattress before he crosses the apartment and grabs the remaining piece of his persona. The sleek red of his helmet replaces the shaggy black hair you love so much. The vacant white of the mask covers the pools of turquoise in his eyes.

"Love you, baby," he says in parting before heading out the window into the night.

[chalametluvrz]

dating timothee chalamet

timothee x afab!reader (mainly gn! expect on nsfw bits)

towards the start of the relationship, i think he'd be pretty anxious

he'd often find himself messing around with his hands a lot on dates

or stumbling over his words a little too much with a small giggle

if you've ever seen old interviews of him when he was younger. you know the ones where he gets all shy and giggly? that's exactly how i envision him to be with you

after some time, that's slowly replaced with his hyperactive ass

and let me tell you, boy never shuts the fuck up that's not a bad thing

because of his schedule, he rarely gets to see you in person

so whenever he does, he just has so much to tell you and so much to talk about that he just ends up coming out with a cluster-fuck of words

he always tries to facetime you at least a couple times a week

and let me tell you, the call will always start with him saying 'oh, i missed your pretty face' or 'seeing you has made my day'

boy is madly in love

and even though he hasn't said it yet, it's fairly obvious he's not hiding anything

he's the kind of person to want to keep your relationship on the down low

because if you're also famous, he wouldn't want to cause any issues or drama through tabloids

and if you aren't, he'd feel awful dragging you into the world of hollywood

eventually though, as most celeb relationships do, you got found out

someone caught you out on your 6 months anniversary

and that was it; twitter was going mental

timothee soon figured out that he probably had to say something

but honestly, he was kind of relieved he didn't have to hide you anymore

the morning you two woke up and saw yourselves going viral on twitter, there was a bit of a mad scramble between the two of you

before eventually, timothee chilled out

'but now i don't need to hide we're together, anymore. i can let the world know you're mine.' he'd say to your confusion at his relaxed state

cute but also now all of timmy's fans are stalking your instagram

cooking meals together!!!

i have a feeling timothee's love languages are more tailored towards physical touch and acts of service tell me im wrong

so cooking together is such a beautiful thing for him

as much as timothee loves taking you out, i think he'd much prefer to cook a fancy pasta dish together with wine over that any day

he also strikes me as a cosy movie date guy

but honestly, it more than likely turns into something else

don't fight me on his, he's a horny guy

like bro would get a hard-on just snuggling with you

when you first started dating, he'd get all shy about it

he'd apologise frantically and his face would be redder than ever

after dating for some time, he'd be less phased

unless you showed and expressed discomfort with it of course

after the shock of you dating slowly weaved out of the fans

timothee would definitely start posting you on his instagram

he just needed the world to know how obsessed he is with you

arguments are rare

extremely rare

they usually only happen when timothee is stressed

feelings get heated and you end up making some snippy comments at each other before one of you gets up and leaves the room

after you've both had time to cool down, you're both mature enough to talk it out and apologise for whatever each of you or one of you has done

communication is a big thing for timmy, so i think arguments are heavily avoided because he encourages you to come to him about anything

any concerns, rants and problems you have, he wants to know

he's a flirter, let me tell you that thankfully not with others

always dazzling you with compliments

you're in the crowd at a press tour? he's staring, smirking and winking at you the whole time

you're supporting him whilst he's on set? the man can't take his eyes off you and is coming to hold you the second the shot is taken

you're on facetime? every odd sentence is him saying some suggestive comment or simply how stunning you are

the man cannot get enough of you

going back to the horny thing...

he has a high sex drive

there's absolutely no doubt about it

he is a giver!!! the man aims to please!!!

could eat you out for days

i've already made a headcanon about him eating you out so i will be brief BUT!!!

he's messy!!! the wetter the better!!!

will overstimulate you with hid tongue any day

and then make sure you cum on his cock as well

you know what they say about tall, skinny boys? wink wink

i'd say he's a good 7 inches, 7 1/2 at a push

he knows how to please you, and he's eager to learn what makes you tick

even though he's mainly a dom, i can see him being a sub at times

only on rare assurances though

being his date to things like the met gala, oscars etc

after being open about your relationship, he couldn't wait to take you everywhere and anywhere with him

loves it when you wear his clothes

but i feel like all boys do?

especially when he's away, opening up a facetime call to see you sat there in one of his t-shirts. he actually thinks his heart might implode.

this boy will actually love you with his whole heart

the cutest, softest and proudest boyfriend around fr

[gojoidyll]

Back on my Boothill x Halovian!Reader agenda!! People want more, well, here's some more!! <3

feel free to request any boothill x halovian!reader scenarios cause I honestly like this dynamic heh

how you met

I imagine that Boothill was looking to buy a new hat. The old one got torn up in a gun fight, much to his dismay so he had to go get a new one, also to his dismay.

Cowboy hats were hard to come by surprisingly, but luckily he found just the store.

The store itself had an influx of clothes and other accessories that could be found anywhere and from any time. Cowboy hats included.

Now, when he walked into the shabby looking antique clothing store. He was surprised that there were actually quite a bit of customers, but he paid no mind to it because he maneuvered himself right to where he knew the hats were. And boy there was quite a selection. Luckily, however, it didn't take long to find one that matched his ... certain aesthetic. Grinning with that pointed grin of his, he reached for the hat that caught his eye, but only to be met with grabbing another hand.

"Huh"

He looked over and met a pair of eyes just as shocked as he was.

"Sorry about that sir. I was trying to get the hat behind the one you were getting."

It was you. A pretty little thing with ears sprouting behind your head. It was obvious to Boothill that you were a halovian. Though, he will admit that this was the first time he ever saw one up close and personal.

"That's alright, missy," he took off the hat that he wanted after letting go of her hand and even grabbed the hat she wanted to give it to her, "though, just so you know, I would of fought ya for this hat if need be."

The little laugh you let out was music to his ears. Damn, the rumors that halovians were angelic in everything they do must be true, was what he thought.

"Even if that was the case... I would win," you sent him a little wink before walking towards one of the nearest mirrors to check out how the hat looked on you. And Boothill does admit that he checked you a little before deciding to leave.

Though leaving proved to be harder than he thought. Especially when the cashier was trying to rob him of all the credits that he owned.

"Why you fudging little-"

It was an argument, alright. But what surprised him was the little gasp you let out when you came to wait for your turn at the cash register.

"Mister you can't... you can't say that!"

"Huh?"

It was the second time that day that that little confusion slipped out. However, when he looked at your appalled expression something sort of clicked in his mind.

He heard that halovians are able to communicate with others through their feelings. But, as far as Boothill knew, they could only do that with other halovians.

But judging by your expression, you heard every cuss word that left his lips.

He didn't know how you were able to do it, especially considering he wasn't fully human anymore nor a halovian. But in that moment he didn't care as he sported a wicked grin.

He just found himself a new translator until his synesthesia beacon was fixed.

[morallyinept]

Pump - A Javier Peña One Shot

Summary: A man starts coming into the gym where you work, and you find you can't keep your eyes off him when he starts to pump...

Pairing: Javier Peña x GN!Reader (No name, defined sex or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.6k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️ “Don't hurt me, cadejo."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: PWP/Javi wearing the tiniest satin shorts ever made/cock outline/possible peek of a ball/very pervy thoughts over a very sweaty Javi 🥵

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: I saw this amazing fanart today of Javi, and the thots just thotted the fuck out of me... 🫠

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

His visits are the fucking highlight of your day.

You find yourself searching for him as you meander through the gym with an added bounce in your step, stack of laundered towels in hand as you drop them around the equipment like newspapers tossed on garden lawns.

Rows of clunky weightlifting machines stand proudly, their chrome frames gleaming under the dim fluorescent lights.

Tattered, vinyl-covered benches line the perimeter of the room, each one bearing the marks of countless hours of use by sweaty bodies and muscled lunkheads striving for physical perfection.

The sound of heavy metal plates clinking together fills the air as the group of agents, from the local DEA office across the steamed pavement street, load up barbells and dumbbells, their focused expressions a melee of pinched, taut brows and refined muscles.

Despite the seriousness of their profession, the moderately sized gym is a tatty haven where they can unwind and bond over their shared passion for catching dangerous narcos and pumping iron in machismo camaraderie.

The walls in Manny’s Gym are adorned with curled edge motivational posters featuring slogans like No Pain, No Gain and Train Hard, Fight Easy, with iconic muscle men of the current era plastered over them like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Franco Columbu, and Lou Ferrigno, serving as constant reminders of the grit and determination required to succeed in both the gym and the field.

The air is always thick with the unmistakable scent of musky sweat, mingling with the earthy aroma of old leather from well-worn punch bags that hang from the ceiling like dangling scrotums swaying in a pendulous rhythm.

Steamy showers and weak powdery deodorant permeates. It’s a heady concoction that hints at the countless hours of exertion and dedication that's saturated the space.

A scent that you’re all too familiar with and breathe in like starved oxygen.

The wooden floor creaks beneath your sneakers as you make your way further into the gym, the sound echoing off the walls.

As you approach the rows of clunky weightlifting machines, the tangy scent of metal fills your nostrils, accompanied by the faint whiff of oil used to lubricate the gears.

Despite his gruff exterior, Manny himself hosts a warm and welcoming demeanour to the regular gym goers, always ready with a word of encouragement, or a pat on the back for those who train under his roof.

He takes great pride in the sense of community that’s flourished within the gym, fostering a supportive environment where the local Bogotá law and DEA alike choose to pump here.

It’s not exclusive, your regular Joe Sixpack will frequent on occasion, but the familiar faces make it far more easy on the eye as you bask in the array of sweaty limbs on the daily.

They give you wolf-whistles and jeers as you shimmy on by handing out towels and sweat bands with a beaming, enticing smile.

But you don’t pay them no mind when they flirt back and grin with glistening rows of hungry teeth like you’re ripe for the plucking. A juicy peach bobbing in a swamp full of toothless alligators. They're physically respectful despite their obvious leers.

Most of them aren't really your type anyway. Stiff, upper pale bodies with honeyed hair falling in waves; the Americans are all the same Mattel crafted hard plastic.

Whereas you prefer something more dark and velvety rich like Colombian coffee that goes down easy and smooth and leaves a heady aftertaste on your lips.

There's one man in particular you'd like to drink down, whom you’ve noticed coming in a few times in recent weeks.

It’s hard to forget him with those tiny, satin shorts he wears in a stark canary yellow, and riding dangerously high up his lean, caramel thighs.

A break in the tight denim jeans that wrap around his legs when you’ve spied him leaving the gym, freshly clean and dressed after a hard workout, and heading back into the office.

Package stuffed tight up in there, poor thing; the brilliant tightness restricting and choking around that hefty bulge all day.

A neatly trimmed moustache adorns his upper lip, thick and fluffy, adding a touch of rugged charm to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. His standard issue DEA gym t-shirt seems a little on the small side, hugging around his golden biceps and riding skintight across the broadest set of shoulders you’ve ever seen on a man his size; a complete opposing parallel to the trimness of his waist. He’s like an inverted triangle.

It rides up a little over his tiny belly; a galaxy of dark hairs trailing down into his shorts that makes you lick your lips every time your eyes fall onto that hairy column.

His dark brown hair, slicked back slightly and curling on the nape, glistens with sweat, adding to his aura of intensity and focus. He exudes an effortless confidence as he moves from one exercise to the next.

The Latino-looking man focuses on a combination of strength training and cardio, showcasing his versatility and athleticism needed for the job he does.

And you find yourself enthralled in his routine, interrupting yours as you covertly watch him from behind the small desk trying not to flood it with your drool.

He usually starts with a set of heavy deadlifts; the sound of his puffs hissing through his teeth and reverberating through the gym as he lifts with perfect form.

Next, he moves on to explosive plyometric jumps. Clad in those tiny, satin shorts that hug his muscular thighs, his powerful legs propel him effortlessly into the air before landing with precision. You can’t help but watch as the muscles and cords in his thighs ripple with each slam of his soles on the floor.

Throughout his workout, he maintains a steely determination and laser-like focus with punishing chocolate eyes, pushing himself to the limit with each repetition; sweat glistening around his brow and temples and falling in tracks.

Despite the intensity of his workouts, there’s a relaxed confidence in his demeanour, reflected in the easy, fluid movements of his svelte body as he moves through the reps.

You watch his back move and shift, broad shoulder blades folding in and out as they flex under the snug fit of his fading t-shirt. His posture is upright and nonplussed, conveying a sense of self-assurance.

Standing at an average height, his frame is lean, yet powerful, and you can’t help but let your thoughts drift into murky territories as your eyes wander all over him and drink him up like a quenching soda on a sweltering day.

You know very little about him, only hearing his name muttered by the other agents as he addresses them pre-work, out or when they stop mid-way through to discuss, what you can only assume, is the cases they’re working on.

The dusty jukebox in the corner playing the current Billy Idol hit drowns them out somewhat at this distance.

But they call him Peña, or Javi as they sometimes greet him through lazy Spanish chit-chat.

He called you cariño once as he passed, mouthing a good morning to you with little effort.

He speaks with a soft, deep cadence; a gravelled grizzle wrapped around his pert lips, which is almost muted and out of full earshot.

But the one thing that's unmistakably loud and clear, is the grunting that pelts out of him.

Particularly when he does bench presses, or those barbell squats with the large weight resting on his shoulders. A deep, guttural grunt ruts out of him that sets your skin alight and makes your genitals want to break out the pompoms and start cheering his name doing high kicks.

They flow unabashed out of him as he pants and hisses. And you like it when he does those squats the most, watching as he parts his feet steady, and slowly lowers his pert ass down towards the floor, rendering those tiny shorts to almost disappear entirely into the rounded crack of his cheeks.

Fuck...

Javi focuses on his reflection in the mirror, lips curled back under that buoyant dark fluff lining his top lip, and teeth clenched in a snarl as he breathes out and grunts loudly with every push upwards from those strong thighs that tense and quiver.

As you observe him from across the gym, you can't ignore the undeniable attraction you feel towards him as it licks up your spine; it makes you clench and sweat just watching him and the fantastic sex-like faces he makes in the mirror.

His sculpted physique and rugged good looks are certainly appealing, but your eyes betray you and head further south at the constant movement inside his flimsy shorts.

Gaudy in their brightness, you see past them at the way they flout their thinness like they’re almost fucking see-through. You like the tease of how low they sit on his svelte hips. A simple tug and they’ll be round his ankles with ease.

You can make out the perfect outline of his heavy, flaccid cock hanging between his legs. Curves and ridges imprinted against the material like muscle memory. Flopping about so uncouthly as he moves like it’s battering you in the face.

Jesus fucking Christ.

With your task temporarily forgotten and brain slowly sluicing out of your ears, the sight of his cock outlining around the thin satin draws you in further. A third arm beckoning you in. Punching against the material with every movement from his hips as though you're mesmerised and drunk on the wildly pornographic view.

You’re pretty certain he’s not wearing any underwear, which is only confirmed by a fuzzy, pink sack peeping out at you some time later when he works on the bench, and draws his leg up.

You swallow dryly as you stare at it, and wonder instantly what it would taste like as you imagine running your mouth around its swell.

Tasting damp, matted pubic hairs sticking to your tongue, with a salted sweat and mixture of his own masculine musk on your tastebuds, and the more you ponder it, the more it makes your mouth water.

You just want to push him back on the bench, naked from the waist down except for his faded white sneakers on, ribbed thick socks pulled up to his shins, and spread his legs wide.

You want to slide your inquisitive tongue all over those sweaty, heavy balls of his and watch his cock throb and pulse before taking it deep into your throat.

A tight clench and a hiss. A pucker of a fluttering hole as you tease it with your tongue. Lips and hips bruised in unison.

Googly frog eyes stare out at him in wonder. A noise at the back of your throat registers, something inhuman between a gulp and a hiccup as he rises up again off the bench.

Humming and sighing audibly as he presents that ass out at you, shorts flapping around his cock lewdly in the mirror’s reflection as he squats again.

As you observe him from across the gym, you feel the pull of heavy want flooding your body in a stifling and suffocating heat. It makes your toes tingle and your heart thrum a bit harder. White noise steams inside your ears.

The dull, aching throb between your own legs makes you shift uncomfortably in the chair as you gulp and swallow at the spectacle.

With each lift of the weights and every drop of sweat that glistens on his brow and moustache, you find your mind sinking further into a perverted swamp of lust and unbridled thoughts running amok over your amygdala.

In your mind, Javi’s pushing you up against the mirror, face crushed against it, trailing bites down on the back of your slick neck like a dog in heat. Your breath fogging against the reflective sheet as he pins your wrists to it with his hands, leaving misty fingerprint smears on the polished glass.

You can taste the sweat on his top lip, fuzzy and damp, and it's damn delicious as he pushes his crotch into your ass. Hard and thick under those flimsy, lacquer-like shorts, leaking a patch of pre-cum soaking into them that blooms and darkens the silk.

His hands let go of your wrists and work their way down your arms, tickling gently and sending prickles to bubble and blister against your burning skin. He skims over your belly and hovers above your waistband; his hot breath inside your ears in gaspy, mouthed moans as he breathes out.

He whispers how much he wants you, how much he wants everyone to watch him fuck you up agasint this mirror, before he slips his nimble, thick fingers down inside the front of your shorts, grinding and rubbing himself against you.

He’s pulling down his satin shorts to let his hard, thick cock bounce out at you, pumping its uncut, rosy head inside his giant hand. Weeping and sticky, it shines at you as his fingers and thumb smear in the secretions, and you watch as he licks his fingers free of his own greased drippings.

You lick your lips ready for a taste as he guides the bulbous head towards your mouth as you sink, thudding to your knees. Feel him weighty and warm in your palm, squeezing just under the head and sliding the skin back to reveal that succulent bulb as you lick the tip and taste glassy bubbles flowing from him before swallowing him down deep.

Suck it, cariño, yeah like that… Tómalo todo. Trágatelo profundo. Si… aah, si. Fuck... (Take it all. Swallow it deep. Yes, aah yes.)

Lost in your thoughts, you barely notice when Javi actually glances in your direction; his dark eyes meeting yours briefly with a knitted brow and pink pout, before returning to his workout.

The brief exchange sends a thrill of wanton excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a spark of curiosity and anticipation that you can't ignore as it pulls tight between your legs and makes you pulse.

As the DEA agent finishes his workout and begins to gather his belongings - he carries a modest blue duffle bag, although never takes anything out of it's fullness - you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving you so riled up for another day.

He grabs his worn water bottle and squeezes a stream of water into his mouth, swallowing deep and plentiful mouthfuls of the jet, and wipes at his lips with the back of his hand when some of it trickles down his smoothly shaved chin.

You watch him pick up the towel you’d laid out, wipe his face off and that onyx-like stare is in your direction again. Two pools of dark tar sucking you in.

A wet, slithery thought creeping in between your ears makes a mental note to take that towel when he's done and defile the fuck out of it.

He finds something in your eyes, perhaps something that excites him, or repulses him. You’re not sure. You’re yet to embark on any formal conversation beyond a simple greeting out of politeness.

As Javi makes his way towards you, passing the desk towards the showers, you're convinced you see a small smirk prick at the corners of his lips.

Another wanton thought bolts its way into the filthy pit of your mind. You see yourself rising up on the balls of your feet in the shower block and presenting your behind out to him and he bends you over further to touch your toes.

You feel his grip around your waist as he slides in and packs you out, stretching you around him. Knees buckling and being drowned by the spray from above as he fucks you hard against the cool, mildewed tiles in the shower block.

You feel like your spine will crack with the pressure, but you don’t care as he pulls you back, hammering up into you. Fingers grazing around your throat, teeth biting into the ball of your wet shoulder.

So fucking tight, just like I love it, baby...

You're gasping his name as your orgasm rips through you and he spills himself inside of your hole with Spanish expletives howling in your ear.

His thick, plentiful come seeps out of you; leaking, pouring. So much pumped into you as he grunts into your ear - shuddering with a high-octane thrill as his moustache tickles against your skin.

You’ll think about this again - about him - when you're at home later; that towel shoved between your legs and soaked with your own leakings.

You catch the hazy scent of Javi as he passes by the desk, subtly inhaling the stench of his sweat; an intoxicating, potent blend of musk and masculinity that leaves you feeling breathless.

A primal aroma that grabs you by the lapels to shake the cock-addled stupid out of you as you catch a glimpse of that package swaying and bobbing around in his tiny flaxen shorts to torment you further.

And once more you swallow around a constricted gulp as he meets your wandering gaze.

“Hasta la próxima vez, cariño.” (See you next time, honey.) He simply husks, as he tosses his duffle bag over his shoulder and struts towards the showers.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this sweaty story. Please consider re-blogging so others can enjoy it too. Thankies! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

[hariboz]

boyfriend!ricky thoughts bc that’s my man!!

boyfriend!ricky who is so soft spoken and gentle with you, even during your disagreements. he doesn’t want to be mean to you, ever. it makes his heart ache if the anger he’s usually so good at covering up slips through his calm demeanour and causes him to say things he would never mean; spends so much time gently mending your heart after fights, whether he was mean or not, just because he hates fighting either way.

boyfriend!ricky who is so particular about his skincare and hygiene products but will always steal your shampoo if he can. pretends he doesn’t know what you’re talking about when you jokingly pester him, only for him to slip up with a giggle. says he likes the smell to be around him all day, because it feels like you’re with him (he’s a charmer)

boyfriend!ricky who gets soooo cocky when you compliment him, cheesy grin on his face as he eggs you on to say more about him. oh you like his hair? what else? you think he did well on stage? great, anything else?? it’s so endearing, the way he’s shyly smiling to himself while your praise him, it’s hard to not pepper his face in kisses and tell him every little detail you love about him. the way his ears turn red is just another bonus to the lovelicky phenomenon 🫶🏻

boyfriend!ricky who sends you details for upcoming dramas, asking which one you want to watch with him. it’s a commitment and not a suggestion, which means you’ll have to either be cuddled up right next to him every time a new episode comes out, or you need to make time so you can facetime and watch the episode together that way if you can’t be together in person. loves to share his unwinding time with you <3

boyfriend!ricky who is, contrary to his looks, the softest man to ever grace your life. sososo soft at heart and so genuinely in love it almost hurts. very in tune with your feelings and while he does sometimes struggle with communicating or expressing his feelings, you can count on him to always try and offer you the best version of himself. wants to be someone you can rely and fall back on. very much the enamoured type :(( 🫶🏻

boyfriend!ricky who has the money to buy you all the luxuries in the world — which he does — but he loves surprising you with little trinkets he finds on his shopping tours. he loves gifting you things, big or small, and there’s something so inherently lovely about receiving small, seemingly unimportant gifts that are actually so well thought out. ricky knows you incredibly well, so he doesn’t need to break the bank to make you happy, even if he likes to do just that just as much. one day he’ll come home with matching bracelets that cost him hundreds, and the next he will silently hand you a matching keychain he got from a little diy stand, all while he has that adorable, shy smile on his face. 🫶🏻

[cupidhoons]

things he wished he'd done ⟡ psh

syn three things sunghoon wished he had done more often & one thing he ended up doing instead

wc 640 && trope idol! ex bf hoon x non idol! fmr mlist

note 🗒️ ; my apology for ditching u guys 2 days straight 😢😢 i'll be back on that grind Again Tmr 😂😂🫵 also gc saw it first yupp 💪💪

saying "i love you" more often

you understood sunghoon had a hard time both expressing and showing his feelings, so it wasn't surprising when he rarely told you the infamous "L" word. you didn't mind, though. sunghoon showed his love for you through other things like giving you gifts and telling you how gorgeous you looked. the only times he would say the three words is when you two would argue and when he felt like you were slipping through his fingers. you didn't find this intoxicating, as you knew that he loved you deep down, but you did wish he would tell you more often.

sunghoon felt the same. he wanted to tell you he loves you in multiple instances — but he could never get the words right. he really did love you. he believed that in every universe you two were meant to be and he wanted you to know that. so so badly. it didnt matter what the circumstances were in the other timeline — he just knew he loved you. and as long as you were there on his side, he would be okay.

spending more time with you

sunghoon struggled balancing out his busy schedule and you. of course, he had his days off where he spent the day with you, but majority of the time he was tired and wanted to stay home. you weren't in the scene nor did you plan to be, but you still understood that your boyfriend was a busy man. from concerts, tours, award shows and being an mc at music bank — he was bound to be tired at the end of the day. he was never home with you. of course, you did facetime daily but there was still this huge block between you two.

it wasn't that you didn't support his decision of being an idol, but it was clear that this relationship was bound to end due to his busy life — if even you didn't want it to.

communicating with you

even in the smallest inconveniences for your relationship, you wanted him to communicate. it was always number one priority on both ends to initiate communication. fortunately, there wasn't many problems in your relationship — until he started closing himself. it was completely out of the blue. from the dry replies and ignoring you when you came over to the dorms — it was obvious something was up.

you asked the guys what was wrong with him and they didn't seem to know either. you thought that maybe it was just stress from the upcoming tour. you gave him his space, hoping he would eventually tell you — but he never did.

the one thing he ended up doing — pushing you away

you ended up finding that many so called fans started saying that you were the reason he lost his spark. watching sunghoon's en-logs and seeing him the background of episodes acting weirder than usual — fans were getting suspicious. did something happen between you two? did you guys breakup? now, it wasn't any of their business, but some fans didn't understand that. when sunghoon started seeing all the tweets and sour posts about you, he was angered.

sunghoon wanted to tell everyone that it was all wrong, that you weren't the one who made him loose his spark — it was them. the media. the pressure. that you were in fact the one who made him so joyful. but he didn't. he couldn't. the only thing he could do was to hope that you didn't check any of your social medias. without knowing it, he distanced himself until you both couldn't take it anymore. one thing led to the other and your relationship with the man who was supposed to be your future husband was gone. three words, eleven letters.

permanent taglist (open — send an ask to be added) ; @ms-no1kpopstan @naespas @kyoaeri @copyhanni @lilacnini

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

THEODORE NOTT— a popular slytherin, an introvert at heart, despite his reputation as a womanizer. theodore nott, who has a big, terrible communication problem.

with the pure terror of displaying his vulnerable emotions, theodore smokes cigarettes to force his emotions to disappear with the wind; bites his inner lip and cheek until his mouth bleeds, so no tears threaten to make way to his eyes.

when theodore nott cries, he stares blankly into the wall. he doesn't sob— sobbing would make him even weaker, more vulnerable, less capable and definitely useless, in his father's eyes.

silent tears are the epitome of theodore's sadness, because other than that, his sadness, stress and troubled thoughts are never known. hidden by a mask of stoic expressions.

theodore nott is 'stupid' smart. if he wasn't a slytherin at heart and soul, then he'd be a ravenclaw, or at least that's what the professors comment amongst them. theo enjoys reading, and would easily spend his afternoon on a silent, vacant corner of the castle, devouring a book in few hours.

he lies, saying that it's simply because knowledge is a good weapon. he'd be saying the truth, if theodore confesses that he reads this much, because whether be it fiction or not, he can escape his thoughts to fully concentrate on the book's contents.

theodore nott is knowledgeable, theodore nott is a good, straight-A's student. theodore nott is quick-witted; you wouldn't want to banter with him, because usually, he gets the last word with a victorious, cheeky smile— an insufferable cocky grin.

and yet, shamefully, theodore nott has no idea how to verbalize his feelings.

every good liar is like this, he'd argue. in exchange of spilling the most atrocious lies with a straight face and nonchalant tone, theodore finds it awfully hard to tell the truth.

ask him what's wrong— you can do that, sure. now, if theodore will answer you, that's another story. and to give you a genuine answer, if he doesn't snap? then an angel must have fallen down its altar.

then, if he can't verbalize or trust anyone, not even mattheo riddle or lorenzo berkshire on a good day— what does theodore nott do, to deal with his full mind and empty heart?

theodore nott destroys.

he destroys other living beings,

being the first one to join mattheo riddle, with a smile on his face, when his best friend snaps at the smallest hint of disrespect. throwing a (not really) deserved punch at a guy that honestly, if you ask him afterwards, theodore has no idea what he done wrong.

when lorenzo scolds mattheo for starting a fight and reprimands theodore for indulging it, the slytherin simply shrugs. he's "looking out for his bro", he says. that's only partially true, as much as he deeply cares for mattheo.

everytime that he starts fights, like a rabid dog. theodore doesn't really know when he stopped being il dolce ragazzo of his madre. when he became a dog that bites without thinking about barking first. "so much for claiming to be the logical one," — lorenzo muses.

... he destroys himself.

which would explain the concerning amount of muggle, wizarding, flavored, all shaped packs of cigarettes he owns. there isn't a brand that he didn't try, at least once— the more harmful, the better.

smoking until his lungs become as black as his heart, as his dark thoughts. smoking, until he drops dead with his worries. smoking, until theodore nott becomes a better man (something that he doubts he could do, for he was born a broken man— born from a couple that should have never crossed paths with each other).

consequently, damaging his hands. skin that becomes calloused and slightly scarred from the cigarettes. knuckles constantly bruised from throwing punches at gryffindors or smartass ravenclaws.

so, theodore nott starts believing that he's unlovable. that loving him— oh, that would be torture. pure masochism, that he wouldn't wish to anyone, not even the witch he dislikes or rolls his eyes at the most.

and that becomes a creeping fear of his. oh, theodore is terrified, when the thought of becoming like his father plagues his mind.

to think that he'd become such a disgusting man, the man who brought so much pain to his mother, that killed the only person who truly loved him.

what would his mother say, if she saw him like this?

would she be disappointed, would she be ashamed to even spare a look at him? would her beautiful porcelain face become a frown, would she walk away, disgusted?

theodore consumes three more cigarettes on that thought alone.

... or would she give him a sympathetic look, gazing at her dolce, bravo ragazzo with those tender eyes of hers? a shade of blue, that theodore was fortunate to inherit.

a sad smile makes its way to his lips. because now, even for a brief moment, theo is himself again. he's not a casanova slytherin, he's not the heir of the nott family. theodore nott is simply his mother's little boy, her teddy.

in honor of such bittersweet memories, theo drops his cigarette and doesn't smoke for at least 24 hours.

theo doesn't know how to deal with comfort. genuinely tender touches, fingertips grazing his skin so lightly—

of desperately needy, lustful touches, he knows. he knows them very well, from all those times he slept with a woman, ruined her for the next guy. from the times a slytherin girl gripped and pushed his hair, needing, begging more of his mouth on her; or when a gryffindor got so lost in pleasure that she left the mark of her nails on his back; when a hufflepuff senior clenched her fingers on his torso, hips and shoulders, screaming for more, deeper, faster; that time when he found a way to shut up a particularly insufferable ravenclaw know-it-all by fucking her mouth, and when he felt the back of her throat on him, the stubborn ravenclaw gripped, scratched, protested on his thighs.

of harsh, violent, cruel, merciless touches, everytime mr. nott decided that a disgusted, disappointed gaze wasn't enough to educate his son. when those knuckles adorned with rings curled into a fist, and theodore was beaten into discipline. all those times he started fights and consequently got hit by a punch or two, even though theodore is a good fighter, and makes sure that even if he does get hurt, the receiving end is in worse state, in need of more than one night in the infirmary wing.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... but comforting, meant to soothe, gentle touches? oh, theo is terrified of them. rather than flinching away from a fist coming his way, theo looks like a scaredy cat when fingers come to brush his hair away from his face, with all the love and care of the world.

theo doesn't know those touches. to be fair, yes, he was acquainted with them once— but that was long, long ago, when his mother was still alive. a life ago, really, because sometimes theodore wonders if he's the same teddy he once was, under the protective but loving arms of his mother.

so at first, theo panics when you hug him, when you physically bring comfort to his broken, damaged heart.

but then?

then, after he gets a taste of how heavenly it feels to be held by someone he loves? then, theo embraces the fact that he is indeed a touch starved man. then, theo completely and shamelessly melts under your touch, relaxing in your embrace, wishing to never leave this safe haven.

( or maybe he does. a little voice on the back of his mind, menacingly suggesting that this safe haven, this loving harbor — you — might disappear into thin air by the cruel hands of his father, the same he did with his mother. )

but before his truly prodigious brain dares to overthink once again— your hands comb through his hair, brushing it back along with his worries, massaging the scalp and melting the troubled thoughts away. that's when theo closes his eyes. that's when he, finally, is in peace with himself.

and if you'd ask him; this is when and where theodore nott is the happiest. this is when theodore nott is teddy again.

౨ৎ these voices in my head screaming ♡ ͡

run now. i'm praying that they're human . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— my motivation? it's a silly little drabble, about my favorite slytherin. theodore nott deserves love, seriously.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[hannieehaee]

Hello! What abt svt & their reaction/rls to foreign staff members? As in maybe translators that are with them on tour?

you being a foreign staff member

content: these are mostly implied to be platonic, fluff, foreign reader (non-korean), most of these reactions assume you speak english and korean as an additional language, etc.

wc: 881

a/n: i loved this concept honestly!! id love to write a longer fic about a language barrier fic or a translator staff member :0

masterlist

seungcheol -

being leader, he sometimes would feel the brunt of taking on interviews and such in english, not always being able to understand what's being asked of him. he would turn to you before and after any interviews or social interactions that involved english to clarify anything he didnt understand. would have a lot of respect and admiration for you, thinking you to be super smart for being able to translate so effortlessly.

jeonghan -

would sometimes strike conversation in japanese just to throw you off. he'd even ask joshua to teach him some phrases in english to throw you off even further by suddenly switching languages. would do the same with jun and throw some chinese at you too. however, he would still converse with you in korean often to get you to accompany him and a few of the members during outings in order to translate.

joshua -

he'd be happy to have another person to speak english to, always seeking you out whenever he got tired of not being able to speak his native language. since the two of you both had korean as an additional language you'd learned, the two of you would relate a lot and mutually gravitate towards each other.

jun -

he has a tendency of going live on weverse and going back and forth between korean and chinese, even teaching carats a few phrases in both languages. this makes me think that he might seek the same from you. he would ask you to translate phrases into whichever language you knew and would even teach you stuff in chinese back.

soonyoung -

he's always trying to learn new words from his the comments on his weverse lives, so i think he would come to you with that same curiosity. he would be fascinated by how easily you went back from one language to another and ask you to teach him how you do it. would be super cute about it too, following you around whenever you were assigned to go on tour or to events with them and rambling questions at you.

wonwoo -

he mentioned in a fansign recently that he wants to learn a lot of languages, so i think he would be somewhat fascinated by you and how well you spoke korean despite it not being your first tongue. would maybe even seek you out directly to strike conversation about linguistics.

jihoon -

he's expressed before that he thinks his english is bad, so he might be a bit shy to speak it. he might look to you for help whenever he happened to go out or find himself in social situations overseas, sticking by you in order to avoid awkward social situations. he would be forever thankful to you for always helping him out and would come directly to you any time he needed help or wanted to learn something new in that language.

seokmin -

he's so outgoing he would probably not even need you to direct yourself at him in korean to become friends with you. since you'd be around a lot, he would do his best to make you feel comfortable while also getting your help in learning a bit more english to communicate with carats. to him it'd be a two birds one stone type of situation; he gets a new friend and gets to find new ways to talk to his fans.

mingyu -

super interested in interacting with you. he loves to learn and is always hoping to strike conversation with new people he meets, so he would have tons of questions for you as to what words to say and how to say them. being the friendly guy that he is, you two would likely become fast friends due to how often he came to you with questions.

minghao -

he's said before he wants to learn english and how hard he's been working towards it, so he would come to you with any questions and even asking you to tag along if he were ever to want to go out during tour. he'd become friends with you very easily and exchange his knowledge in chinese for your knowledge in english.

seungkwan -

he'd be immediately curious about you, seeing as you didn't seem to be a regular staff member. upon finding out you were a translator he'd try to communicate with you in broken english, completely forgetting that you'd obviously know korean. after that, he would consistently ask for your help in learning important phrases in english and praising you for your expertise at speaking multiple languages.

vernon -

as someone who had to learn korean as a second language very young (and then retain his english language after moving to korea), he would probably relate to you a lot and befriend you very easily. he would seek you out to dust off his english and the two of you would likely hit it off right away.

chan -

being the future of kpop, of course he needs to know a bit more english, or at least that's what he tells you any time he comes to you with yet another inquiry as to what some random post he saw online means. he knows he can just use an online translator (or ask an english-speaking member), but he would trust your judgment more.

[itadorey]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: in an attempt to distract gojo, yaga sends him on a quest to locate you; a missing member of the zenin clan with prophetic dreams. genre: pre-relationship, humor, fluff notes: college gojo makes me feral. i think he would've been a menace. i also kind of want to continue this as a series of one shots (set in the same universe but not necessarily a multi-chapter fic). wc: ~3k song inspo ♫: ruby sparks by monet ngo

"i saw you in my dreams."

gojo chuckles at the words, a flirty smile appearing on his face as he tilts his head up to look at the person that's speaking to him. he can't help the way his eyes briefly widen when he sees your face, recognizing you as the very person he was sent to find.

he understands that yaga wants to give him a distraction, a getaway from all the shit that has happened to him in the past few years. but going undercover at the university of tokyo to locate you, a supposedly important jujutsu sorcerer, wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his post-high school years. now that you're standing in front of him, he can't really find it in himself to complain. not when he realizes just how pretty you are.

he quickly composes himself, leaning back in his seat before motioning for you to sit. you glance at the seat across from him uncertainly, refusing to move. there's a conflicted look on your face as you scan your surroundings, almost as if looking for an escape route. you look like you regret speaking in the first place.

"i'm flattered, really," gojo says, shamelessly checking you out over his sunglasses. "but that's kind of a cheesy pickup line, isn't it?"

your nose scrunches up at you look at him, and you stutter a few times as you lean against the table. gojo watches with an amused smile that quickly drops when you finally gather your thoughts. "ew! that was not an attempt to flirt with you!"

there's a moment of silence before you sigh and slip into the seat across from gojo. you place your elbows on the table, head in your hands as you stare down at the table. another minute passes before you look up, making brief eye contact with gojo's sunglasses before fully laying your head down. "listen, this is gonna sounds crazy."

"try me," gojo says, smirking as he leans forward. one of his elbows rests on the table, check in hand as he watches you struggle with your thoughts.

he's never met you before, hell, he hasn't even seen you before this moment, but the faint cursed energy that surrounds you lets him know exactly who you are. you're a member of the zen'in clan, labeled as missing when your parents fled a couple years after you were born. the discovery of your prophetic dreams had made you an instant target, and you had been so well hidden from society that even gojo and yaga had had a hard time finding you. there was absolutely no information on your childhood or adolescence, and the only way they had managed to locate you was due to a wayward curse you had taken upon yourself to exorcise. the recent spike of your cursed energy had caused an uproar in the jujutsu community, and a race had begun to see who could get to you first.

between jujutsu high, the zen'in clan, the higher-ups, and a special grade curse, gojo thought he was the best option.

"okay, come on," gojo says, standing up and stretching before pushing his chair in. you finally look up, frustration visible on your face as you stare at him. your expression quickly morphs into confusion when gojo gently grabs your arm, tugging you up from your seat and slinging your bag over his shoulder before interlocking arms with you.

"where are we going?" you ask, stumbling after him. he's taller than you, and you find yourself struggling to keep up with his long strides.

"we're gonna go get some coffee!" he says, smiling at you. "i know a place. besides, i wanna know all about those dreams you had of me."

"you don't think i'm lying to you?" you say, eyeing him skeptically. "or that i'm crazy?"

your question goes unanswered, but the look he sends you makes your stomach twist with nervousness. there's a glint in his eye that catches you off guard, and you find yourself wondering if he knows more than he's letting on.

your mind races as he walks you off campus, chatting your ear off as you go. he doesn't receive a single response from you, yet your silence doesn't seem to bother him. if anything, it only motivates him to talk even more, and you find yourself almost enjoying the way he doesn't let the silence last more than a few seconds.

"oh look! there it is," gojo says, fully capturing your attention as he motions towards a small café. it's a small, charming place, one street over, visible through the alleyway the two of you are currently standing in front of. you come to a full stop when he makes a move to walk down the alley, inadvertently pulling him back to your side when he realizes you won't budge.

"what's wrong?" he asks, leaning down to catch your eye. you're met with a startingly blue gaze, and you shift from one foot to another as you tear your eyes away from him. "oh, i know! i bet you're nervous for our date!"

"this isn't a date!" you snap, finally pulling your arm away from him. you can feel a headache coming as he giggles, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks into the alley. "wait!"

gojo halts at your words, turning around to fully face you. he watches you curiously as you take a few tentative steps forward, a shiver running down your spine when you enter the alley as well. there's a coldness seeping through your bones as you approach gojo, and when you turn to look behind you, it feels as though you've left the busy streets of tokyo completely.

"what's wrong?" gojo asks, the smile still on his face as he observes your reaction. you're almost certain that he knows something you don't at this point.

"this alley," you start, wringing your hands as you take a step back. "this is where we were. in my dream, i mean."

"and what exactly were we doing here?" gojo asks, his teasing tone earning a scowl from you. "this alley is quite inconspicuous, and we're all alone."

the insult you had ready dies on the tip of your tongue as you notice movement behind gojo, and his eyebrows furrow as he notices the sudden change in your demeanor.

"so, in my dream we were here. and you were in danger. i couldn't do anything to help and you—," you cut yourself off, nervousness coating your words as you start to close in on gojo. you ready yourself to fight, remembering every detail about your dream as the curse lurking in the alleyway reveals itself. you curse to yourself as it notices you, and you absentmindedly note that it seems be a grade 1 curse.

"and i?" gojo asks, curiosity coloring his words as he tilts his head in confusion. he hasn't moved at all, and you find yourself wondering if he can sense cursed spirits. in your dream it seemed like he could.

you inhale sharply as the curse lunges, and you notice too late that this scene isn't playing out the same way it had in your dream. you throw yourself at gojo, eyes wide with panic as you realize you're just a bit too far to reach him.

"you have to move!" you shriek, your heart pounding as gojo simply grins at you. he raises his hand silently, fingers twisting as he mutters something under his breath. the curse is killed instantly, and you find yourself collapsing to your knees as you look at gojo in shock.

"y-you—"

"me!" gojo cheers, cutting you off as he approaches you. he hauls you onto your feet and loops his arm with yours once again, guiding you past the disintegrating curse and emerging on the other side of the alley. you spare another glance back at the corpse, swallowing harshly before turning to look at the sorcerer standing next to you.

"who are you?" you ask quietly. the smile doesn't slip from gojo's face as he holds the cafe door open for you, following closely after you and guiding you to an empty table.

"how about we order first? and then i'll answer all of your questions," gojo says, picking up a stray menu and flipping through it casually as if he hasn't just taken down a grade 1 curse with ease. he notices your stare but doesn't comment on it, instead choosing to place the menu back on the table before waving over a server.

"can i get a slice of cake with two forks? oh! and two glasses of chocolate milk please."

gojo twiddles his thumbs as the two of you wait for your order, and you find yourself fully studying him for the first time since you approached him. he's sitting casually, leaning back slightly in a relaxed manner as he hums a song under his breath. when he notices your stare, he sends you a small grin and proceeds to go back to observing his surroundings.

he's much too relaxed for someone who just had an encounter with a curse, and you realize that he truly does know a lot more than you originally thought.

"here's your order!"

gojo thanks the server enthusiastically as you mutter your appreciation, your hands closing around the glass he pushes towards you without much thought.

"so, who are you?" you finally ask, repeating the question that gojo had ignored earlier. he laughs at your words, grabbing one of the forks and taking a bite of cake as he extends the other one to you. he waits for you to grab the fork, using his own to pick up another piece of cake before he notices you don't make a move to take it from him.

"what? you want me to feed you instead?" he asks, eyelashes fluttering as he gives you a flirty smile. he places the fork meant for you back on the table, leaning in closer and bringing his own fork to your mouth. "i guess that would be more date-like. okay, say ah!"

his enthusiasm dies down when he notices the frown tugging at your lips, and he deflates in defeat when you push his hand aside and reach for the other fork. you fiddle with it for a couple of seconds before placing it back down and looking at him with a glare.

"who are you?" you demand once more, your eye twitching in annoyance when gojo opens his mouth. you have no doubt he's about to say something stupid. "if you don't tell me, i will scream for help."

his mouth clamps shut as he studies you quietly, taking another bite of the cake before sighing.

"my name is gojo satoru," he finally says, holding his hand out to you as he introduces himself. you place your hand in his hesitantly, a gasp leaving you when he brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles. "and you, you're a zen'in."

gojo watches as your eyes go wide at his words, and you yank your hand out his grasp before looking around nervously.

"no, i'm not," you say quietly. "i've never heard that name in my life."

you receive a funny look from gojo, and he crosses his arms before snorting. "yeah, ok. i totally believe you."

"how do you know that name," you say quietly, your eyes still scanning your surroundings. your shoulders are tense, and gojo can tell that you're seconds away from sprinting out of your seat and away from him.

"it's a pretty well known name in the jujutsu world," gojo responds, his head tilting as he looks at you questioningly. "so you know about curses, but not about the clans?"

"sorry, i'm afraid learning about the politics of the jujutsu world was the least of my worries," you reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you do so. gojo thinks it's kind of endearing. "the information on curses was much more important, so i kinda just tuned out my parents when they gave me that lecture."

gojo chuckles, shaking his head slightly at your words. he leans forward without much thought, holding out three fingers as he speaks. "there's three big jujutsu families that exist. there's the kamo clan, the gojo clan, and the zen'in clan. you and i belong to two of those. and all three of them are looking for you."

you shift in your seat at his words, giving him a wary glance before shrugging nonchalantly. "so you found me first. now what?"

there's a slight nervousness to your tone, causing gojo to frown. he shrugs, grabbing his glass and taking a drink. "i dunno. i wasn't sent on behalf of the gojo clan. i was sent by yaga masamichi, the principal of tokyo jujutsu high. we have no plans to turn you over to the higher-ups, it that makes this situation any better."

"then what do you plan on doing?"

"now that, i also don't know," gojo confesses. he notices the look of irritation on your face and chuckles. "all we know is that your power is too strong to be left unchecked. now, i'm not necessarily kidnapping you, but i am asking you to return to the school with me and speak with yaga. we think there's a way that your dreams could help jujutsu sorcerers know what they could possibly be dealing with on a mission ahead of time."

"i don't think that'll be possible," you mutter, frowning down at the table. you seem lost in thought, and gojo gives you a moment of silence before he speaks.

"what do you mean by that?" gojo's voice is soft, his eyebrows knit in concern as you give him a worried look.

"i mean that i don't think my dreams are reliable," you whisper, panic lacing your words.

"they're prophetic dreams!" gojo yells quietly. "what do you mean they're not reliable."

"ok, look," you say, pausing to reach for the half-eaten slice of cake. you finally take a bite, eyes lighting up as you hum with delight. "that is good! ok, anyways, i don't think my dreams are truly prophetic."

"that's literally not possible," gojo argues, eyes wide in disbelief. "it's a part of your cursed technique! everyone knows that the zen'in clan members with this ability are never wrong."

"well they are now!"

"what do you mean by that?"

"i mean that my dream wasn't accurate," you explain, taking another bite of the cake. you ignore gojo's confused look, sighing before pushing the plate back towards him. "that dream i had of you? yeah the real-life scenario didn't play out the way it was supposed to."

gojo's stare hardens as he processes your words, and he pushed the cake aside as he looks at you questioningly. "what do you mean it didn't play out the way it was supposed to?"

"you were supposed to die," you confess, your voice no louder than a whisper. the silence between the two of you is heavy, and you wonder if your admission was much too harsh. "in my dream, the curse attacked you after i failed to protect you. i don't know what changed."

"well, i'm the strongest sorcerer alive, so there's your answer," gojo says, an uncertain smile on his face as he tries to lighten the mood. "besides, i had to step up my game. i wasn't going to leave someone as precious as you to defend yourself."

his efforts pay off as you huff out a laugh. it's weak, but it manages to dispel the heaviness that had been previously present.

"listen," gojo begins, his tone uncharacteristically serious for the first time since you've approached him. "i'm not trying to freak you out or anything, but that's incredibly strange. there has never been a zen'in prophetic dream that didn't come true. i really think you should speak with yaga, or tengen. but i won't force you to."

"tengen?" you ask, confusion on your face as you look down at the table. "who's that?"

"long story," gojo breathes, making the decision to let yaga fill you in on that. "but what do you say? i'd really like to figure this out, but i kinda need you in order to be able to do that."

there's a moment of hesitation on your end, and gojo finds himself tensing up as he waits for you to speak. he's almost certain that you're going to decline, and he's afraid that once you walk out of the café, you'll be gone forever once again. his fears are dispelled when you look up to meet his gaze, determination clearly visible in your eyes as you nod.

"okay, i'll go with you."

"great!" gojo says, his grin reappearing as he stands. he places a small wad of cash on the table before walking around the table to you and offering you his hand. you've barely slipped your hand into his before he tugs you towards him, his grin getting wider as you bump into his chest. you don't get the chance to say anything before he's walking out of the café, throwing a cursory glance around before heading down the street. "let's get out of here. we shouldn't stay in one place too long, just in case."

gojo chatters endlessly once again as you presumably head towards tokyo jujutsu high, and you find yourself staring at him as you recall your entire day in your mind. gojo satoru had single-handedly disrupted the course of fate, and neither one of you had any idea as to how.

you can feel a headache coming on the longer you stare at him, and you finally look away when he glances back at you and gives you a charming grin.

you have no idea who gojo satoru is, but if he has the power to change the course of your prophetic dreams, then you're determined to find out more about him.

and he sure as hell wasn't going to complain about that.

reblogs are appreciated <3 thank you for reading!!

[causenessus]

Meeting Your Eyes. | Bungou Stray Dogs

inc: dazai, chuuya, tecchou (ft. cranky jouno <3), tachihara

written in 2nd pov (female implied!)

song recc: my jinji by sunset rollercoaster

word count: 1492 words

lil scenarios of meeting their eyes <3 chuuya and tachihara get special treatment with lowercase names in theirs bc their just so soft and i love them so much but they're all so sweet !!! i refuse to write dialogue in paragraphs so sorry they're mixed with the headcanons (๑´ ^ `๑) hope u enjoy!! this is my slightly late valentine's day post <33

dazai

tries to meet your eyes the whole day at the agency

peeks above your laptop screen and to the side trying to grab your attention and pouts when you don’t look at him

solely because he wants attention or because he wants to convince you to go somewhere with him

Atsushi has discovered that it’s impossible to communicate with Dazai when he gets like this

the boy can only watch as Dazai progressively gets closer to you, and by the end he’s completely on his desk and leaning over yours <3

“[Y/N]...” he whined, using a hand to move your computer screen back and forth

“yes?” you said, keeping your eyes focused on the wobbling screen

“look at meee, please?” he inched closer to your face, almost breaking your mask

you know as soon as you look at him you won’t be able to say no

he’ll be giving you puppy eyes the entire day, and he knows that if he can get you to look at him, he’ll be able to convince you

“I’m sure Kunikida-kun wouldn’t mind if we went home a little early, can we please?” he continued to beg

you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to clear your mind, “even if he doesn’t mind–which I think is highly doubtful–I still have work I can get done. so the answer is no. you can hang in there, love.”

your words went through one ear and out the other, “can you say it while looking at me?” he was using a soft, quiet voice that was making it hard to stay strong. if he wasn’t so persuasive, you’d love to look at your boyfriend’s pretty face. it was already hard enough to not look at him even though you knew how convincing he could be

a hand brushed against yours, starting to play with your index finger as Dazai whined your name again.

you opened your eyes as you answered, “no, ‘Samu–” the moment you met eyes with him, your resolve faltered

he had the most adorable expression on his already endearing face that made your heart ache whenever he looked at you like this.

you averted your eyes as you silently closed your laptop, beginning to pack your bag, “...I suppose I could get it done tomorrow. and as long as it’s turned in by its deadline Kunikida-san will be fine with it.”

“oh! my belladonna!” Dazai exclaimed as he practically threw himself onto you, arms wrapped around your neck, “I knew I could convince you. let’s go home,” he gave you an innocent smile, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling away to gather his own things

chuuya

chuuya meets your eyes from across a corporate party

you’re the only one he can truly feel comfortable around in such a large setting. he feels safer knowing you’re safe when he’s around you and can see you

plus, he’s more than happy to walk around with you. he’s proud to be walking with the beautiful lady who’s turning every head <3 it’s even better because he knows that no matter what, you’re all his

he looks for you the moment he arrives at the party, searching the crowd for your face

he ignores anyone trying to talk to him or offer him something to drink. honestly, he waves everyone away, completely focused on finding you

he pushes past a couple in the crowd and suddenly he’ll see you; your eyes slightly wide and mouth parted as you meet his eyes from afar

as soon as you see him, you’re pushing through the crowd to get to him and he’s doing the same. you never take your eyes off of him, scared to lose him in the crowd again

when you finally meet, it’s like everything was set just for this moment. a beam of light perfectly shines over you both as you meet in the middle

“you look stunning, sweetheart,” he can’t help but say, hands trailing down your sides, resting on your hips

your arms drape across his shoulders and around his neck as you brush noses with him, “so do you, darling.” you both share a smile, continuing to look into his slate colored eyes. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

he can feel his heart start to slow as he relaxes in your hold. “so was I, doll,” as he stares into your eyes, he realizes that all he needs is you.

“say,” he murmurs, eyes lowering to watch his hands as they draw circles on your skin, “I know we just got here, but I just wanna be with you. wanna get out of here?” when he looks back up at you, his eyes are playful

“as long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we go,” you respond, intertwining your hand with his as he starts to lead you through the crowd <3

tecchou

you meet eyes with Tecchou when you look across the table to find him already looking at you

your heart stirs, stricken by those pretty amber eyes, and he hasn’t even processed that you’ve caught him staring

he’s so entranced in you that he only smiles when you meet his eyes, his head resting on a hand

“Hiro, you’re staring again,” you say softly, your cheeks warm a little under his gaze

“I can’t help it, angel. I could stare at you all day and it wouldn’t be enough, you’re just too perfect.” <3

Jouno is most certainly not happy about it

“Tecchou-san, I can hear you ogling [Y/N]-san from here and I really wish you would stop. Please stop breathing while you’re at it,” he scoffs from the other side of the table

(it’s Jouno’s special way of saying he’s happy for you both <3)

probably how you ended up finding out that he liked you

he had never hidden how much he stared at you because he was never ashamed of it

you thought he was so charming when you first met him that you were surprised he would ever take interest in you

“it’s not just that you’re beautiful. it’s just like I can see how pure you are in character. everything around you is brighter, whether I’m looking at you or when I’m with you. it’s been like that ever since I first met you,” he answered when you brought this up the day he confessed

(ear plugs did not save Jouno in the room over who was reaching for a trash can

you try to hold his gaze whenever you meet eyes with him but you’re always the first to look away, face turning red while he only continues to look at you with a lovesick smile <3

tachihara

you’re the person tachihara looks to whenever someone says something worth sharing “a look” for or when someone says something funny

yk like when someone says questionable and you look to someone else like “did they just say that fr?”

that’s tachihara and you <3

whenever jokes are made, he laughs and looks at you to see if you found it funny as well

loves to laugh with you and make you laugh <3

he has a ton of inside jokes with you

for example, radios are heavily used in the mafia so that everyone can communicate

earpieces do their job, but despite the beauty of modern technology sometimes their audio can be so scratchy and incoherent. especially when people get farther away, the audio just gets harder and harder to understand

once, when tachihara took you out on a date and you both were walking around in a store, a worker came on to the intercom to say something but it just sounded like a jumble of fuzz and garbled words.

he nudged you with his shoulder saying, “sounds like hirotsu every time he tries to speak to us during a job.”

you both were crying, holding onto shelves and dying of laughter afterwards <3

and now every time during a job when you hear hirotsu through your ear piece, you both immediately look at each other with mischievous smiles and stifled laughter

even during the most serious of meetings–you both could be standing right in front of Mori and it’s like you guys have a telepathic connection

you both will look at each other simultaneously and share the same thoughts

meeting eyes with him always ends with you both having uncontrollable smiles that automatically spread across your faces <3

along with the knowing looks you two share, there’s so much love and adoration in your eyes for each other

he also knows that if you don’t meet his eyes or if they’re not as lively as usual, something’s wrong and he’s always quick to ask you what he can do to help <3

[cepheustarot]

What will be your future spouse's first impression of you?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: Your future spouse sees you as a determined, persistent person who moves without stopping and overcomes all life’s difficulties. He’ll think you’re a strong person, with a strong character, you’re the kind of person who takes control, who can turn good luck and success to his side. He sees you as a determined person, you’re brave, you’re full of life energy, you have lively speech and emotional expression, he is drawn to you. In a word, you are a role model, able to inspire people by their actions and achievements. At the same time, he considers you a rather private person who prefers not to talk about himself and does not like to go into the details of his life, you are careful and attentive to people and not everyone is ready to open up. He also thinks you’re too honest, too direct and tell the truth to the face. He also thinks that you’re the kind of person that is called melancholic,  you can often be seen with a sad face or tired, and he thinks you’re a sensitive person, sentimental, vulnerable. 

Speaking of how he feels around you, you are like a breath of fresh air to him, you are like someone new in his life, such people he had never met before, and if he did, communication with them did not last long. Next to you, he feels calm, comfortable, harmonious and peaceful, he believes that you are the one who understands him in many things, who shares his views. He also trusts you, wants to share his innermost thoughts, personal things. 

Pile 2: Your future spouse sees you as a person who works hard to achieve his goals, but he feels that you can put too much effort into something that is not worth your time, he may not understand your priorities and goals. He also sees you as a hesitant person who has difficulty making a choice or generally choosing one of all the available options, and overall he thinks that you have in priority close people and you choose what is beneficial for them, sacrificing your interests and your comfort. Along with that, he sees you as a person who is content with what gives him life, values every opportunity and takes every chance that gives him life. You are a kind, caring person who seeks well-being in life and harmony, does not like to get involved in conflicts and settles all disputes peacefully. 

At first, you might not be able to communicate, it was difficult to find common themes and keep talking to you, it was very disturbing to him, but in time you will still be able to get hold of something in common and communication with you will no longer be so difficult, but on the contrary it will bring joy. Next to you he forgets all the hardships of life, detached from the problems, you to him as something comfortable, as safe place. He is also looking for any opportunity to please you, he is looking for a way to approach you, to gain your attention, because he considers you a very attractive person with a good heart. 

Pile 3: Your future spouse sees you as a person of authority, who has a good reputation, he considers you a confident person and his strength, you are  firm in decision and adhere to your principles. He also thinks you’re a bit of a powerful person who can put anyone in their place. This makes him feel that for you priority career and personal growth, as you spend a lot of time working/studying and are fully focused in this field. You also look like a mysterious person with your innermost secrets, and that attracts him, your aura attracts him, he wants to know you more and better. You’re also very perceptive and see right through people. 

Speaking of how he feels around you: he likes to communicate with you, he considers you an interesting interlocutor, most of your conversations are intellectual and touch upon the subject of philosophy, he likes your thinking and the way you think. In general, next to you, he has a good mood, pleasant feelings and emotions. He will also patiently seek your attention, and although it will take a long time, he will not regret it and will be sure that it is worth time and resources. He also understands that he can meet competitors on his way, but this does not embarrass or stop him, on the contrary, it serves as a motivation for him.