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naomi-nana · 3 days ago

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✎ᝰ. once upon a kitchen . diasomnia

you have been invited by your beloved husband, lilia, to visit their school for the holidays. yet when you arrive, you finally know what his true intentions are.

featuring : lilia vanrouge, malleus draconia, sebek zigvolt, silver vanrouge

cw : f!reader, the reader is fae and married to lilia, being served poison by the diasomnia cast, bad grammars, may be ooc or inaccurate (word count: 2k)

a/n : i suddenly thought of this LMAOOO i hope everyone will like it:3 this is my way of coping from book 7 〒▽〒 i also got way too into it and ended up writing a really long fic ... (posting 2 fics in a row cuz my internet is about to dieeee)

yesterday, you received a message from your beloved and his boys. they invited you over for a little dinner and chat over at their dorm, diasomnia, in night raven college. the message reads;

name, my dear! would you be so kind as to visit our dorm for the holiday? since it is not a really long holiday, the headmage didn't allow us to leave school ... and i'd be dead if i don't see you at all this month! so, come over, and we'll have dinner together! - sincerely, your beloved, lilia vanrouge.

you smile to yourself as you read the message all over again on your way to night raven college. as compensation for not being able to leave for the holiday, crowley had also allowed family members to visit for a short period of time anytime they wanted.

and so you arrived.

upon your arrival, there were quite a long line full of people—presumably family members—that would like to visit their child. you sighed to yourself, a little annoyed that you'll have to confirm with the teachers at the gate before entering. you then messaged lilia, notifying him of your arrival.

he then replied with a short, "ok," which irked you a little. you came all the way here only for him to not even be excited? at least act like he is! you pout, aggressively putting your phone back in your pocket. you decided to spend your time checking all of your things instead of getting annoyed at lilia.

clothes, toothbrushes, snacks, clothes again, little trinkets for everyone, and clothes ... again.

after crouching and opening your suitcase in the middle of the road, for some reason, the line hasn't moved at all. so, you stood up, ready to see whatever drama had conspired between an angered mother and the teacher.

yet, all you see in your peripheral vision is a pair of wide crimson eyes staring at you ... upside down.

"woah!" you jerked back in surprise, making the upside down man in front of you chuckle. that man is, of course, none other than lilia vanrouge. "lilia! you scared me!" you narrowed your eyes at him, earning a toothy grin.

"well, sorry about that, dearie. your reaction is always amusing to watch, khehehe~" he snickered, finally setting down on the ground to talk to you properly. from his disheveled hair, you can tell he was in a hurry to get to you.

but you're confused. why would he even go as far as to come to the gate just to see you?

"why would you come here? i'll walk inside there myself anyways, you know ..." you replied indifferently, still a little annoyed at his dry reply to your text earlier. he hums at your question, seemingly deep in thought. suddenly, he took your suitcase in his hand and used his other hand to hold onto yours.

"apparently, there is a limit on how many family members could visit us ... that crowley, always announcing something without giving us the details." he pouts, shooting a glare to the headmage who's currently trying to calm down the angry parents at the gate.

it was like that for a few minutes before he coughed and replaced the pout off of his face with a smile. "but, anyways, because you can't enter anymore ... i shall personally escort you, my love!" you raised an eyebrow, curious on how he would 'personally' escort you.

"is that not illegal? you're practically breaking the rule, you know ..."

"well, no one besides us knows! so, just hold onto my hand tightly, okay?" he grins, taking your hand in his.

sigh, well, at least you have someone to personally escort you. you squeezed his hand, and he muttered an incantation under his breath. your surroundings began to distort, and you feel a familiar sense of discomfort. you closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you've arrived at diasomnia's gate.

"welcome back, lilia-sama! and welcome, mrs. vanrouge!"

"oh, my ... you've grown to be such a fine young man!"

sebek's eyes light up at your compliment. really, it feels as if it was just yesterday when he started to learn how to swing a wooden sword. "sebek, are the ingredients ready?" lilia chimed in, his face looking a little too amused the moment the word 'ingredients' left his mouth.

"yes! silver and i have already finished lining them up in the kitchen!" sebek replied, smiling eagerly as if waiting for a compliment. wait, ingredients? "very well. could you help her carry her luggage? i'm gonna take her to the lounge."

"yes, sir!" sebek took all of your luggage from your hands, walking steadily towards the dorm as if it's not heavy at all. sigh, maybe you should try to lift heavier stuff so you can get used to it. "so, shall we enter together, dearie?" lilia extended his hand to you, bowing slightly like prince charming.

"but of course. oh, before we enter, though, what ingredients did sebek and silver bought?" you took lilia's hand in yours, walking together side by side like a newly wed couple.

"you need not know! it's a surprise the children and i have prepared for you!"

now you're curious(and concerned for your well-being) at his reply. lilia did say that the five of you would be having dinner together in diasomnia. but you thought that it would be a pre-cooked dinner by a chef from briar valley, or just straight-up food delivery.

"you're ... not gonna cook, right?"

he grins at your question.

"... right?"

you don't know how you got yourself in this situation, but the moment you entered their dorm, you were greeted by students of diasomnia lining up infront of the doors all the way to the dining room. there, you saw silver and sebek standing besides an empty chair—you assumed that it's for you.

"mrs. vanrouge, you may sit here!"

"moth—um, mrs vanrouge ... please sit here."

sebek and silver greeted you with a smile, although the latter's expression shows that he feels concerned for you. "well, my love, you may sit on that chair over there!" lilia pointed at the empty chair, smiling widely at your shocked expression. while the table is well decorated with a few candles and flowers, the plates are all empty.

"i'm dead today, aren't i?"

you walked over to the empty chair and sat on it hesitantly. then, someone else walked up to you. it's malleus. "oh, name. it seems as if you've finally arrived. i hope you don't mind the heavily decorated table. lilia was the one who insisted we add a little ... 'pizzazz', as he called it, to the dining room."

"i don't mind at all! i appreciate the thought," you smile at him. "the three of you have grown up to be quite the fine young man, it seems. i am very proud!" you continued, ruffling malleus' hair when he leaned down. silver smiles at the interaction, also leaning down to your height.

"oh, silver, what's this? you want me to ruffle your hair, too?"

"... mother, since there is still time, please make a run for it."

you paused, trembling in your seat as he reminded you once more of the disaster awaiting you. "don't say it like that ..." you sigh, praying that you won't end up in the hospital on your first day here.

"well, let's start cooking our gourmet for name!" lilia interrupts the interaction, gesturing at the three to go to the kitchen with him. while malleus and sebek look concerned, they thought that if there were three people who could cook in the kitchen, they're sure they could avoid any disaster.

silver is not sure. at all.

he has seen the way his beloved father cooks in the kitchen, and even if there is professional chefs instructing him, he'll always find ways to sneak in god knows what in his cooking and make it taste bad.

sigh, old men are so unreliable.

"sir, what are we cooking today? i shall assist you and the young master in every single step!" sebek asks(by yelling), taking the knife in his hand. he's very confident in his cutting skill, and he's sure that there won't be food that comes out in chunky bits if he doesn't let lilia hold onto it. er, it's not like he doesn't trust lilia at all, of course.

"sebek, your voice is too loud ..." silver complains, to which sebek took offense. "silver! this is how professional chefs communicate in the kitchen! if you want me to speak soothingly, you can go ahead and listen to nursery rhymes!"

"now, now, boys. we're not here to argue! today, we are going to cook a simple curry!" lilia puts his hands on his hips, grinning to himself.

"curry? hmm, that does sound like a delightful meal. but how about you sit back and let us cook instead, lilia?" malleus chimes in, looking at lilia with doubtful eyes.

"what are you talking about, malleus? i'm not gonna make you guys do the labor while i sit back like a boss. i shall help, too!"

you sit in the ridiculously long dining table of diasomnia—very patiently waiting for the four to finish cooking. so patient, in fact, you wish they come out with empty hands.

while waiting for them to finish their cooking, you've heard many ominous things from inside the kitchen. sebek yelling in concern at lilia adding for too many spices, malleus using a little too much magic to turn on the stove(it almost burns down the whole kitchen), and lilia occasionally checking on you to make sure you're still there.

you sigh to yourself, pulling out your phone to text your friend back in your hometown to prepare a funeral for you.

after a few more minutes, the four of them finally come out with a suspiciously good-looking curry. "mrs. vanrouge, we have finished cooking dinner!" sebek announced, putting the pot full of hot curry on the table. quickly, he pours some of the curry on your plate for you to taste.

"have a taste, dearie! we put our heart and soul into this!" lilia smiles at you, making you raise an eyebrow. the food looks surprisingly tasty. the colors are normal, it smells great, the vegetables look as if they're cut by a professional, and the rice is cooked this time.

you look up to the four of them. silver is subtly telling you not to eat the curry for some reason, sebek and lilia's eyes are sparkling in anticipation, and malleus is smiling as if waiting for your reaction.

well, it won't hurt to take a bite, right?

"thank you for the meal." you used your spoon to take some of the rice and curry into your mouth slowly. and when you swallow it ... "how is it, name?" malleus asks, staring at you in curiosity.

it's ... so spicy! "lilia, what did you add in here to make it so spicy?!" you looked at the grinning man in front of you, glaring daggers at him. "whatever do you mean, love? i simply added a few chilis into the curry for you!"

"you .. what?!"

"i tried to stop him from doing that, but he somehow sneaks it in when we weren't looking ... i'm sorry, i have failed you, mother." silver looks down in shame, making lilia cackle.

"khehehe, don't be like that! it was tasty even if i added too much chilis! you liked it, right?"

"vanrouge, i'm gonna get you back someday!" you gripped your spoon tightly, trying to swallow the ridiculously spicy curry. lilia laughs harder at your declaration of war.

but, instead of fuming at him, you smile.

looking at the four of them, malleus sighing in devastation that his cooking was destroyed by lilia yet again, sebek yelling at silver for not supervising lilia for his pranks, silver arguing that 'it's not really my fault.', and lilia teasing you for how red your face had become from all the spices.

you wish for this moment to never end.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

#nao.writes #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x you #lilia vanrouge #lilia twst #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x reader #lilia twst x reader #malleus draconia #silver vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #malleus twst #silver twst #sebek twst #twst fluff #twst fic

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 days ago

Note

i would take anythingggg Jake Seresin x reader 😍

Pretty Hurricane | j. s.

Jake Seresin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Stalking (not Jake lol), cursing.

Author’s Note: This…this got away from me. Sorry it took so long to write lmao. GIF from @tomcriuse

Talk to Me! | AO3

Every Friday night, like clockwork, Jake Seresin waits for her to show up for her shift at the Hard Deck.

And every Friday night, like clockwork, he finds himself moseying up to the bar to order a round of drinks.

And while he does that, every Friday night, he flirts with her.

And every Friday night, like clockwork, she tells him to fuck off.

This Friday night is no different.

"Hey there, Hurricane," he says, that soft Texas drawl, pulling her attention immediately. She hates that it does, because she hates that she finds him attractive, but she can't help it. Also hates that his stupid nickname for her makes her feel like a part of his life somehow. "A round for the boys, and water for Baby on Board."

"You could stand to be nicer to Lieutenant Floyd, Bagman," she comments, moving to start grabbing the beers from the cooler for him.

“Oh, please —all in good fun,” he reassures, but it doesn’t sound sincere in any way shape or form. He leans on the bar, looking her over slowly. “Why's it matter to you? Gotta thing for Bob?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. There’s no reason to take the bait, because he’s going to keep goading her anyway. Sliding the beers over to him, she holds out her hand expectantly.

“Y’know, usually I get a little more outta ladies before they ask for my wallet,” he teases, fishing it from his pocket and handing her his card to start the tab. As she moves to take it, he pulls it out of her reach with a smirk. That’s the first mistake he makes tonight. “What’re you gonna give me in return?”

“A swift kick in the ass?” She offers with her brow raised, putting her hands on her hips. “Oh, better yet —I won’t have you permanently banned for skipping out on your tab. Fair deal, I think.”

Jake puts his hand over his heart like she’s wounded him, and she just rolls her eyes. His flirtations don’t get very far —they never do, honestly —but now she’s getting annoyed that he’s holding up the bar on a Friday night.

“Just give me your number,” he says, and he makes his second mistake of the night.

His phone, which he’s pulled out of his pocket, is sitting on the bar. He’s too caught up in his flirting to realize his mistake; especially when she puts her hand on his to take the phone. Just barely —just a soft touch, like a caress, to distract him. For a moment, he really thinks she’s gonna give him her number.

But then, just as quick as he snatched the card from her, she rings the bell.

His face falls immediately and he yanks his hand away, groaning. The bar erupts into cheers, but Jake is glaring at her in annoyance. All she does is smile at him sweetly as she snatches his card out of his hand.

“You know, I think I’ll take you up on that drink,” she teases, “Since you’re paying for everyone’s anyway.”

She watches as his jaw clenches, but he takes the beers for his team and walks off without another word. Penny sidles up beside her, smirking lightly as she pours a beer.

“He’s gonna complain about that all night,” the older woman says.

“Oh I fucking hope he does,” she laughs, getting back to work.

She’s worked at the Hard Deck for a little over two years. She’s met a lot of people –creeps, regulars, tourists. You name it, she’s interacted with and served them. And most of the time, none of them give her any issues. Sometimes they’re a little too forward –like Jake, but she knows he’s harmless. Sometimes they’re a bit skeevy, trying to get her to come home with them. But again, usually she can handle it.

Tonight, she thinks, is one of those nights where she gets a weird one.

He’s nice at first; complimenting her outfit and tattoos. Grinning at her like he’s just being nice. And he is nice –not in a creepy way. Younger guy, her age maybe. He talks about his classes and his degree –they go to the same college, and he thinks they have a class together. She offers a half-ass response –maybe they do, but truthfully she wouldn’t know because she doesn’t talk to anyone in her classes –but she’s only half paying attention to him as he continues to speak.

Then he asks about her, even when they get busier. Asks about her schedule for classes, but seems to know a little more than she thinks is normal for someone who has one class with her. Yeah, her program is small and her college classes are small, but this guy says he’s seen her on campus early in the morning getting coffee. Gets a little more pushy when she gives him clipped answers and pays closer attention to other patrons over him. When Jake comes up for his second round, she leans in a little closer to him –maybe giving the pilot some false expectations, but she figures that if this stranger sees her talking to someone like Jake, he’ll back off.

He does not.

He pays his tab, leaves an obscene tip that she’s certain he thinks will get something out of her.

Then he stays.

Even as the night wears down, as regulars slip out and the bar calms down. He just sits there, nursing the last beer that he ordered. Staring at her, watching her movements like he’s trying to understand something about her. Talking about the one class they have together. Guys like this don’t usually make her that uncomfortable, but between the knowledge he has about her school schedule and the knife she notices on his side, she doesn’t like the feeling she gets in her gut as she finishes up her side work.

Luckily, there’s still three people outside this guy –Bradshaw, Javy, and Jake –and she’s confident that if anything happens, those three would be there to help her. She spends the rest of the evening on the furthest side of the bar, closest to the aviators and as far from the stranger as she can. But there’s a tremble in her hands as she wipes out the glasses and wipes down the bar. She glances at the pilots more often than she usually does, hoping that maybe one of them will get the hint.

By the end of the night, it’s just her behind the bar and Jake, Coyote and Rooster playing darts. There’s a few stragglers —regulars who drink too much and are waiting to close out their tab. There’s one guy who’s been sitting at the bar all night though. Jake noticed him the second time he went up for a round —not someone he’s seen before. She hasn’t kicked him out yet, so Jake assumes she knows him somehow.

Except when the guy stays, even after he pays his tab. And when the regulars are leaving. Then Jake is very aware that she stays on the opposite side of the bar, away from him. Actually, he even catches her looking at him several times throughout the night –and while Jake is very confident in himself, he knows that she would rather choke on a cactus than flirt with him. Which is why he’s confused by her glances –until her eyes shift from him to the guy at the bar then back to him.

When Coyote and Rooster both call it night, shoving Jake some as they head out, he lingers. Saunters up to the bar, just him and this other guy, and the pretty Hurricane that he has a soft spot for –not that he’d ever admit it to her.

“Closin’ out finally, sugar,” he says, rapping his knuckles against the bar top.

The guy at the other side is glancing at them, like he’s sizing Jake up carefully. She’s side eyeing the guy, then looks up at Jake, taking his credit card out and sliding it across the bar with his check. And that’s when he sees it clear as day: hands trembling, eyes guarded. She’s afraid of this guy.

Without thinking too much about it, he takes her hand and grins at her. “You ridin’ home with me or we meetin’ back at the house, Hurricane?” He asks, sliding the check back to her.

She swallows hard, but plays along, squeezing his hand. “We can ride together –we can pick up my car tomorrow morning. Just waiting on you two to finish up.”

The guy narrows his eyes at her, but stands slowly. Then he’s leaving, hopefully deciding that whatever he had planned isn’t worth it now that Jake is involved somehow. As soon as the door shuts, she’s letting out a heavy sigh of relief and pulling away from him, crouching down on the floor behind the bar.

“Jesus Christ,” she breathes, clutching the edge of the bar like she’s about to fall over.

Jake stares for a moment before he peers over the bar down at her. “You okay?”

There’s a very uncomfortable laugh that escapes her lips, and Jake realizes that she’s breathing heavily with her eyes shut. There’s a second where he considers if he’s really the one she would want to help with this, but he realizes that there’s not really another option. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t actually leave anyone hanging –especially his favorite bartender, who looks like she’s about to have a breakdown on the floor.

He slips around the bar with ease, kneeling down beside her. Then he eases her to the floor, hand on her back as he leans her against him carefully. For a few minutes, he lets her sort of just sit there and get her bearings. Sits beside her and puts his arm around her shoulders, and she covers her face with her hands as she leans against him. Then he says her name –not her nickname, not some pet name but her actual name –and she looks up at him with tear rimmed and fearful eyes.

Jake can’t remember a time where he’s seen her this shaken –and he’s seen her deal with plenty of creeps.

“Talk to me,” he practically begs and he thinks that he sounds ridiculous –but he shoves the thought away. Reminds himself that he’s allowed to care. “What’d he do?”

“I…I think he knows me,” she explains, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “He said we have a class together, but I…I don’t know who he is. But he kept talking about how he sees me on campus all the time —we have a class together or something, and he saw…he saw that I was wearing my work shirt once and knew I worked here.”

Jake glances up for a moment, listening to make sure the door of the bar isn’t opening. He thinks, briefly, he should have locked it. But if this guy comes back, Jake is certain that he’ll go from two confirmed kills to three.

“I tried to ignore him, like I usually do with creeps,” she continues, and her voice is cracking as she speaks. He rubs her arm gently, pulling her closer instinctively. “But then he wouldn’t leave –just kept talking. Getting snappy if I wasn’t listening to him –I…I didn’t know what to do. And then he had a knife and I think…I don’t know I think he…,” but she didn’t finish speaking, covering her face again and starting to cry.

“What if he’s out there, waiting for me?” She cries, whole body shaking with sobs.

“I’ll handle him if he is,” Jake promises, standing up carefully and pulling her up with him. Then he grabs her bag from under the counter. “I’m gonna take you home, okay? I’m not lettin’ you walk out there alone, and I’m sure as hell not lettin’ you go home alone.”

There’s a shaky, almost painful laugh that escapes her lips as runs her hands through her hair. “I’m sure you’re just…thrilled that this is how you get me alone,” she says, and Jake makes a face as he takes her keys out of her bag. “All your flirting and it takes me being stalked for you to get me to go home with you. Get to play the hero.”

“Stop it,” he practically snaps, turning and looking down at her as he says her name seriously. He gets that she’s just trying to ease whatever anxiety she has; rationally, he knows she’s just trying to cope. But it pisses him off that she thinks so low of him.

She looks up at him with wide eyes and Jake is pointing down at her. “I’m not messin’ around about this –I get you hate me. You make it loud and fuckin’ clear –but this isn’t a joke. I’m not tryin’ to be a hero, Christ –I’m takin’ you home because if I don’t, I will find that guy and I will do something that will make him regret walkin’ into this bar.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but he’s shaking his head, taking her hand. Then he’s pulling her out of the bar. There’s two cars in the lot; his and hers. Which is definitely a good thing, because he’s certain that things would go very badly if that asshole was still there. That doesn’t stop him from looking over his shoulder, or pulling her closer to his side as a precaution, though. There’s no fight from her as he leads her to his truck and opens the door for her.

The drive is quiet. She’s still trembling –not as much, but he can see her hands shaking as she stares at her phone screen that’s lighting up the truck cab. When he pulls into his driveway, they sit there for a few minutes in silence. Like she’s afraid to get out, and she’s waiting for his next move. But he doesn’t move either, white knuckling his steering wheel.

“I don’t…hate you, you know,” she suddenly admits, but she’s not looking at him as she speaks. “You annoy the shit out of me, don’t get me wrong. But…but I don’t mean it when I say I hate you. I wouldn’t put up with your shit if I actually hated you.”

He almost scoffs, but instead shakes his head. “It’s your job to put up with my shit,” he reminds her, moving to open his door.

“Penny has literally offered to ban you from the bar for me, Jake,” she points out, finally looking up at him. Her hand is on his arm, stopping him from leaving. “On several occasions, she’s literally talked to Maverick about not letting you come back if I asked. And I tell her every time that I like arguing with you.”

He hesitates a moment, then slowly turns to look down at her. She looks annoyed with herself, like admitting that she doesn’t hate him is an inconvenience on her part. But something about the way she’s looking at him makes him soften some. Her touch helps, too.

“You like to argue with me?” He teases some, smirking down at her. Jake’s glad she’s back to biting back at him, even if it’s got no real venom behind it. Though, it seems it never did, if what she’s saying is true.

“Truthfully, I think I like pissing you off almost as much as you like pissing me off,” she offers, a small grin on her face in return. “But…I also know that you’re not actually a bad person,” she continues, and her hand drifts down his arm to take his hand. He lets her without argument, though he’s not sure if it’s because he wants to hold her hand or because he wants her to find comfort in him. Maybe it’s both. “I kept looking at you tonight because I knew that…if that guy did do something, you would step in immediately. And you did.”

“I wasn’t sure what his deal was at first,” he admits, glancing out the front window. “Thought you knew him; but when he didn’t leave, I didn’t like it. And when you kept glancin’ at me –I knew better. You don’t look at me like that ever; like you wanted somethin’ from me. Knew somethin’ was off.”

There’s another pause between them, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable this time. Then he pushes his door open, pulling away from her just long enough to open her door next. He’s offering his hand to her, because contrary to what anyone thinks, he’s a goddamn gentleman through and through.

“Let’s get you inside –we’ll figure out how to deal with this shit in the morning.”

She just nods, and takes his hand without argument. Doesn’t let go either, when she’s out of the truck and on solid ground again. He glances down at her for a second, but he knows that even if they’re going back and forth like this –she’s still shaken. Still freaked out by this guy who knows too much about her.

When he lets her into the house –nothing special, just a place outside the base he rents –she stops in the doorway.

“You good?” He asks, looking back at her with concern.

But she just nods, and he motions for her to follow him, leading her down the hall towards his bedroom. When he flicks the light on, she slowly steps inside, like this is some forbidden space she’s not allowed to be in. Jake wants to joke that she’s the first person that’s come in here fully dressed, but decides tonight is not the night to do that.

“I’ll crash on the couch tonight and you can stay in here. Bathroom’s across the hall, and you can borrow a shirt or something to sleep in,” he offers, motioning to the closet that’s half open. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She’s about to say something, but stops herself –instead just nodding and sitting on his bed with her hands in her lap. He’s not used to how quiet she’s being; she’s usually louder than he is, calling over the bar or yelling out orders. Everything she does commands attention, and that’s why he calls her a hurricane –she’s nothing if not a force to be reckoned with. But right now, she’s nothing like the girl he knows from the bar. What’s usually confident and snarky is subdued and tired, almost timid in her movements. It almost breaks his heart, honestly.

Her soft “thank you” doesn’t escape him, and he gives her a reassuring smile before shutting the door behind him. For a minute, he just stands there. Listening to her move through his room, opening his drawers to get something of his to wear. He tries not to imagine her taking her clothes off, or putting his on but it’s hard not to when he’s lingering outside his own bedroom door. Forcing himself to move, Jake drops down onto the couch and covers his face with his hands, groaning.

Halfway through the night, she shoots up out of sleep with a gasp and tears. Heart kicking against her ribcage, she tries to push away the nightmare –the guy from the bar, sitting outside her apartment, waiting for her –but it doesn’t help that in her fear-addled state, she doesn’t know where she is. She wakes up tangled in sheets that aren’t hers and clothes that don’t belong to her, and for a moment, she thinks she might scream.

But then she remembers where she is when she looks around –the uniforms in the closet, the bomber jacket tossed on the end of the bed, the shirt and boxers she wears, all of which linger with his cologne. And it grounds her back in reality; reminds her that Jake gave up his space for her just to feel safe. But even then, she’s near tears from nightmares and the fear of being alone.

Maybe that’s why she gets up and pads out of his room. At first, she considers just going into the bathroom and washing her face. But then television is on in the living room, and she can see him lounging against the arm of the couch instead of sleeping.

She hesitates just a bit before making her way to the living room, sitting on the floor at the end of the couch. He’s awake, and she can feel his eyes on her, but she doesn’t say anything as she focuses on whatever he’s watching —some old eighties flick that's just playing on cable. He sits up, making room for her without question. When she doesn’t move, though, he throws a pillow at her.

“What the fuck?” She complains, throwing the pillow back at him.

“Get off the floor,” he orders, though he has no real bite in his tone. “Why are you up?”

She mumbles under her breath about him being an asshole even now, but slides onto the couch and curls into herself. His eyes are on her still, and she can feel them practically burning through the side of her face.

“Well?” He asks, frowning at her.

“I had a nightmare,” she admits reluctantly, because saying it out loud sounds childish. “Got up, saw you were awake. Came out here. I can go back —,”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Come’ere.”

Her brow furrows as she finally looks at him —finally realizes he’s only wearing a loose pair of sleep pants —and she stares at him blankly. He’s motioning for her to come closer, but when she doesn’t move, he reaches for her and pulls her over to him.

“Jake —,”

“Just let me do this for you, Hurricane,” he orders gently, and his arms are around her as he lays back down on the couch.

Jake shifts a few times, adjusting both for his comfort and hers. She ends up laying on him entirely, one leg draped over his. Her cheek rests against his chest and she tries to tuck her hands under her body but he moves her hand and drapes it over his waist. Then his hand is on her shoulder, rubbing gentle circles into the fabric of his shirt that she wears.

The entire thing is strangely intimate, with him shirtless and her in his clothes. Like this is something they’ve done a thousand times before. But his breathing is even, and his skin is warm against her hands, and his scent that had been lingering in his room surrounds her entirely now as he holds her against him.

For the first time tonight, she feels calm. Safe. And as she settles against Jake, she decides that she’s been wrong about him this whole time.

When he wakes up, there’s a distinct lack of weight against him. He had tried to stay up long enough to make sure she fell asleep, but he’s not sure when either of them ended up sleeping. However, he is very aware of how she felt in his arms all night —how soft her skin felt, how warm she was. Waking up to her not in his arms almost hurt.

But then he reminds himself that she is not there for him, but the other way around.

Sitting up, he stretches up and yawns —then freezes when he hears something shatter and her cuss like a sailor in his kitchen. Jake lets out a laugh, though it’s more a sigh than anything else, and stands. Slipping his shirt back on, he follows her frustrated sounds.

Seeing her in his kitchen, his shirt hanging loosely off her shoulders and his boxers rolled up around her waist, Jake can’t help but lean against the doorway, watching. She looks like she belongs here, he thinks. Like she’s supposed to be messing up his kitchen at the crack of dawn.

There’s coffee in the pot and a mug sitting beside it. He assumes there must have been two given that the second is on his floor, shattered. And she’s trying to clean it up without being loud; though she’s failed miserably at that task.

“There’s a broom in the laundry room,” he finally offers, though he’s already making his way over and grabbing it himself.

She looks up with surprise, hand covering her mouth as she yelps at his “sudden” appearance. “Shit, Jake —why are you up?”

“I should be askin’ you that, sugar,” he counters, handing the broom over to her. She takes it lamely, and he can tell she’s embarrassed by the way she refuses to look at him. “I get up at the same time every day. Can’t help it.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” she offers, sweeping up the glass and tossing it. Then she leans against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “I woke up and wanted to make breakfast for you. To thank you.”

“Oh yeah?” He grins, bracing his hands on either side of her against the counter. Invading her space just to get close to her again.

She doesn’t shrink back like he worries she might. And Jake is thankful for that, because after yesterday, he had been concerned that he might have to stop flirting with her like this. Getting close to her, annoying her until she’s about to cuss him out.

“Yeah, except you have Jack shit in your house. Protein powder and coffee are not food, Hangman.”

“Damn, back to callsigns, I see,” he teases, pulling back from her.

Her hand is pulling at his shirt though —not yanking him by any means, but the movement says more than she probably wants it to. Or maybe it says exactly what he wants it to say —wants her to say —as she tugs him back to her. Except this time his hands are on her hips, leaning down into her space, whispering her name softly.

“What are we doin’, sweetheart?” He asks, and he would usually just make the decision for her. But he figures giving her the control is exactly what he should have been doing this whole time.

“I don’t know,” she admits with a sigh, but her hand trails up his chest. “I don’t want to be someone you’re just…one and done with.”

“You think that’s all you’d be?” He scolds, narrowing his eyes at her for a moment. His hand finds her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “I haven’t spent six months tryin’ to get your number for no reason, Hurricane.”

“And what have you spent six months doing then, Lieutenant Seresin?”

He smirks, leaning in just a bit more. Brushes his nose against hers, just close enough that he can feel her breath on his lips. “Honestly? Tryin’ to get you to fall in love with me.”

“You think it worked?”

“Why don’t we find out over breakfast?”

“How many girls you take out to breakfast after they spend the night?” She asks, returning his smirk, but they both know the answer.

“Only you.”

She hums a bit in response, but Jake is tired of her playing hard to get. Especially when he had her in his arms last night, and she’s standing in his kitchen, in his goddamn underwear. With ease, he lifts her to the counter and takes her face in his hands, kissing her like he’s been thinking about since he got to North Island.

There’s no hesitation from her; she’s wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as hard. Her legs widen just enough for him to slot his hips between them, pressing her further into his countertop as he nips at her bottom lip, earning him a gasp that he swears he’s going to dream about every night until he hears it again.

But he’s the one that pulls back, and he’s grinning smugly down at her as she catches her breath. “Get dressed, sugar,” he orders, giving her one last peck. “Gonna take you out for breakfast, and you’re gonna tell me how well my plan to get you to fall for me has worked.”

“You’re a fucking menace,” she teases, pulling him back down the collar of his shirt. He could fight her, but there’s no fun in that.

“Oh you have no idea,” and they both know that’s a damn threat as he kisses her again.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #top gun #top gun maverick #glen powell #glen powell x reader

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revelboo · 1 day ago

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Seeing several bayverse bots and while the movie is eh uhhh tlk Optimus maybe 🫣🫣🫣

It's his thighs I'm sorry (im no better than a man 🫣😭) like why (but also thank you bit still)

🤣 I just love how at some point in the Bay stuff someone made the creative decision to just change his design to make him look like that. Someone looked at Optimus and said ‘make him slutty’

🔞 Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Thighs

Bayverse Optimus

• “Focus,” he growls, the low reprimand more of a taunt than anything else. When he’d offered to teach you to handle pressure and stay focused, this isn’t what you’d expected. Straddling the mass displaced mech’s thigh, with his palm cupping you, a servo inside you lazily stroking while you shakily try to focus on copying alien glyphs. Biting your lip and rocking against him, he vents to stir your hair. “Not until you’re done.” And his other hand grips your hip to keep you from trying to grind on him.

• Smiling behind his mask as you groan and your head thumps against the desk, he crooks his servo inside you just to make your breath catch. Hears you swear, grabbing the stylus and resuming the exercise. Annoyed with him like you have no idea he’s aching to be inside you. That this is a lesson in patience for him, too, as you add another glyph, your characters as wobbly as a sparkling’s. “Make me come and I swear I’ll do the rest?” You plead, voice hitching as he pumps his servo inside you.

• “That wasn’t the agreement.” Groaning at his stern rumble, you push back into his heated frame. And urgently buck against his palm to make him chuckle until he cups and pins you against him, apparently not about to let you help yourself out. “Patience,” he growls and you let your head fall back against him in frustration.

• Listening to you whine at him, his own patience is already stretched thin. Bouncing his thigh lightly, you shoot him a sullen look, but lean forward, hips deliberately rocking against his palm. And you snatch up the stylus. It’s definitely not pretty. Barely legible, but you work out the rest of the alphabet in record time as he keeps stroking you, servo occasionally tapping inside you just to make you squirm. “Fuck me,” you demand, tossing the stylus down on the datapad like a challenge. Finally.

• Slipping his servo free of your slick heat, he bends you over the desk and frees his spike. And he’s impatient despite harping on you about it, because there’s no teasing, just his thick spike stretching you in a hard drive of his hips. Pinning you on top of the datapad as your hard work gets messed up when your palms slide on the slick surface trying to brace. And he’s thrusting deep, hips bucking against you as he snarls, fans kicking on. Smelling the musky, metallic scent of him thicken until you can almost taste it as he moves against you, venting loudly.

• Hips pumping urgently against you as you gasp and squirm, you’re so slick for him after being played with for a joor. And all too soon, you’re whimpering his name, milking his spike as you come apart. Groaning as his hips snap against you, servos gripping the desk on either side of your hips, he keeps moving against you until he’s shuddering with his overload as you moan. Hips lazily rocking against you, he pulls the scent of you deep and rolls his hips. “You’re going to have to redo them all,” he growls, hands sliding to your hips before he curls an arm around you. Listening to your little protests as he braces you both with a hand. “Start over.” And he is smiling behind his mask when you reach for the stylus and he moves inside you while you try to write. This batch of glyphs even worse than the last.

#transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #bayverse optimus prime #valveplug

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lachatalovematcha · 3 days ago

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Well this user has also stalked me. I confess that I have already deleted my own gifs to keep it more comfortable.

Whenever I posted a gif, they would repost the same gif within a short time like two days later.I had even stopped posting gifs for a while because it's tiringI have already received offensive asks as well, I don't know if it was them because there is no way to prove it. but I believe it is since it is the only blog that has been stalk me for a while and coincidentally or not (I don't think there would be such a coincidence)and coincidentally or not (I don't think there would be such a coincidence) a new blog appeared out of nowhere using a tag that I created for my posts and those of my friends ##otaku☆chan I wouldn't find it strange that someone uses this tag, but this person uses my first user nameI wouldn't find it strange that someone uses this tag, but this person uses my first user name @ aishiteru-com An anonymous person sent me an ask saying it was them (islandmusic) and I'm sure it could be. strange a recent blog from hours ago used my tags and tried to copy me in aesthetics using my old at user name @ I really believe that it could be them chasing me because this is not the first time that this has happened.and someone told me that they already did this to her, copying the name and style of the posts just to annoy her I don't fall for the game that this user doesn't know me. They investigated everything and know what you like and what you don't like and they know that I'm a big fan by 大森靖子 a stalker knows more about your life than your own mother. This really scares me, I don't see when this is going to stop I just want them to leave me alone, I would like to use tumblr with a lighter vibe I can't stand this user's attitudes anymore. Thank you for sharing this, I would never have the courage to write a text like this, I was excited because I saw many people supporting youヾ(・ω・*)

I really don't use this blog much anymore. So I kind of want to use this to post about a really popular set of accounts.

I have been stalked by @adequately/@islandmusic/@bonkie/@230yen/@mofufufu/@comfye (she owns many, many blogs) for four years.

She went out of her way to find my personal blog after I remade, when I had made no indication of what this blog was and only interacted with people I knew, meaning she purposefully went out of her way to find me. She also obsessively checks my blogs to find new posts and new blogs of mine, as she stole from one of my blogs that I had only posted once about on my personal blog.

Proof her stealing my posts recently. This is just recently. There is literally years of this. My URLs are going to be censored because I don't want my personal blog to be known. However, I will keep the dates visible to prove that she took them from me.

These are my uploads posted first:

And here are her blogs, reposting literally all of this in a row. Back to back. These are one after the other. Many of these are from the same day, minutes or hours after my posts. She does not even hide that she is stalking me.

This is literal years of this behavior from her, I couldn't possibly show all of it. She also steals my GIFs and claims them as hers. In 2024, she stole nearly every GIF I would post. She did not even bother to change my original captions that I made that were not in the original sources, proving that she just copied directly from my posts.

I have reached out to her multiple times begging her to please leave me alone and that I don't want anything to do with her, but she is still very obsessed with me and hostile no matter what I do to get her to leave me alone.

Here is me begging her for months to leave me alone on a sideblog, because she often turns off her DMs, tagging, replies and asks on all her blogs. Probably for this literal reason. There is also a DM she sent me where she admits to stealing from me.

Even though she apologizes for her behavior, she does not mean it because she does not stop. She lied to me. I do not steal posts from her. I don't even look at her blogs, and I blacklist her URLs to avoid her and her content. She is literally obsessed with me, and has been for four years, ever since I was a minor and she was a grown adult.

She steals from other blogs, too. I know she's done this many times, but I really only have this screenshot from ages ago. These images are from the same Instagram post, hers are just put into a different order. I don't know who the person in the first picture is but I censored their URL for their privacy.

I also have reason to believe she has sent me a lot of anonymous hate messages but I can't prove it, and I won't put them here for that reason + a lot of them are very violent and hateful e.g. encouraging me to commit suicide.

If you see this, I hope you take this as a wake up call and leave me alone. I have been begging you to leave me alone for four years, but you never do. I want nothing to do with you. You started harassing me when I was 16 years old. I want you to stop harassing and stalking me. I want you to stop being obsessed with me and everything I do. I want you to stop looking at my blogs even when I have you blocked and try to stay away from you. I want you to stop purposefully going out of your way to find me and my accounts. Please move on with your life. And if you won't do that, I at least hope that people will realize the fear you've been inflicting on me for years.

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lazysoulwriter · 2 days ago

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it's ours. - pedro pascal ── .✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro x reader, domestic fluff, clothing thievery, shared wardrobe chaos, cozy vibes, deeply in love energy.

---

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you steal my cardigan again?”

You looked up from your book, curled on the couch, wearing said cardigan — oversized, soft, slightly falling off one shoulder.

Pedro stood in the doorway holding a hoodie. Your hoodie. The cream one that used to smell like your perfume until it got claimed by his cologne.

You blinked. “Did you steal my hoodie again?”

He raised both brows.

“…Okay. Truce,” you said, tucking your legs under you.

Pedro crossed the room, flopping down beside you with a dramatic sigh. “We need labels.”

“Like little name tags?”

“Exactly. Like kindergarteners. ‘Property of Pedro.’”

“Please. Half your shirts are already property of me.”

“Allegedly.”

You pulled at the sleeve of the cardigan. “This is definitely yours, though.”

“Nope,” he smirked. “Yours. I bought it for you. For your birthday.”

“…Right. But you wore it for three days straight after I unwrapped it.”

“Because it was soft. And mine.”

You both stared at each other, then looked down at the clothing in question.

“Okay,” you sighed. “So who does it belong to now?”

Pedro thought for a second.

Then shrugged.

“Ours.”

You smiled, heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it always did around him. “Yeah. Ours.”

He pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around you and the cardigan like it was all the same thing.

Later that night, you found your favorite t-shirt in his drawer. Next to a jacket that definitely used to be his. And you couldn’t even remember the last time your closets had clear boundaries.

But that was the thing about your life with Pedro.

Everything — shirts, space, soft cotton hoodies with frayed sleeves — was yours.

And his.

And always both.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk

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yuujispunches · 10 hours ago

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Babysitting emergency ~ R.S.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Summary: Sukuna is in charge of babysitting his little nephew for an evening, should be easy enough right? Turns out it isn’t so he finds himself knocking at his annoying neighbour’s door.

CW (content warning): cuteness overload, modern AU (no curses), ooc Sukuna (he’s kinda nice), Sukuna is an architect for literally mo reason, some light cursing.

AN: This is way too long because I got too into it hahahah but I think really like how this turned out 🤍 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’re any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of character I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

There were very few things that could rattle Sukuna Ryomen. Earthquakes, client meltdowns, the occasional burst pipe on-site, those were all things he could handle effortlessly. But standing in his living room in a faded black hoodie, sweatpants, and socks that hadn’t matched since 9 a.m., he was definitely rattled.

The source of his current crisis was none other than a pink-haired five-year-old named Yuji, his nephew.

The kid was adorable. When he was asleep. Awake? He was a human pinball, a juice-powered chaos gremlin with endless questions and zero fear.

“Uncle Suku, can I feed the fish again?” Yuji called, already climbing onto the kitchen counter.

“We don’t have a fish!” Sukuna snapped, catching a juice box midair. “That’s my garlic press!”

Yuji grinned, completely unbothered, as he jumped down and ran in circles around the coffee table, dragging what used to be a potted plant behind him like a leash.

It was only noon.

Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose. His sister had begged him, really begged him, to babysit while she and her husband attended a last-minute emergency at her office. He’d said yes because he was a responsible adult with a flexible work-from-home schedule and because, well, he wasn’t heartless.

But this? This was slowly turning into a war of attrition.

He tried distracting Yuji with cartoons. Didn’t work. Tried coloring. Yuji drew on the wall. Tried snacks. The living room now smelled like stale applesauce and childhood regrets.

Sukuna’s eye twitched as a toy firetruck zipped past him and hit the front door.

He needed backup. But not just any backup. His neighbor. He stared at the wall separating his apartment from hers.

You’d lived next door for about six months. Too cheerful. Too nosy. Always humming in the hallways and leaving little potted plants outside your door like this was some rom-com set instead of a downtown apartment building.

And you loved to get on his nerves.

Whenever he bumped into you in the hallway, it was like sparring with a cartoon character. You smiled too much. Talked too much. You once called his very expensive minimalist furniture “cold serial killer chic” and he still hadn’t forgiven you.

But Yuji liked you. A lot. And right now? Sukuna was desperate.

With a long-suffering sigh, he knocked on your door. It opened a few seconds later, revealing you in leggings, a hoodie, and fuzzy socks. You were holding a mug that said BITE ME in cheerful bubble letters.

Your eyes widened. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Brooding himself. Need to borrow a cup of angst?”

“Help me.” Sukuna said flatly.

You blinked. “Sorry, come again?”

He cleared his throat. “I said… Help. Me.” He said it like the mere act of those words leaving his lips physically hurt him. It probably did in fact.

You leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling. “Did you swallow a thumbtack, or did you actually just ask me for help?”

“Yuji.” He said simply, gesturing behind him. A loud crash followed.

Your smile widened. “Say no more.”

——————————————————————————

Fifteen minutes later, you were in his apartment, crouched on the carpet, helping Yuji build a pillow fort. The kid had immediately latched onto you like a magnet, and you? You looked completely at ease.

Sukuna watched, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

“Okay, Yuji, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to guard this pillow castle from the evil broccoli overlords.”

“Broccoli is gross!” Yuji shouted.

“Exactly!” You said solemnly. “They must be stopped.”

Yuji saluted you. “Yes, General!”

Sukuna felt like he’d stepped into an alternate universe. One were his heart did weird things when he saw you laughing at something his little nephew did. He wasn’t handling it well.

“How do you do that?” He asked finally.

You didn’t even look up. “Do what?”

“That. Handle him like you’re some sort of… tiny human whisperer.”

You shrugged. “It’s not that hard. He just wants to play. And not be barked at like he’s a military recruit.”

Sukuna scowled. “I wasn’t… Okay, maybe a little. But in my defense, he colored on my tax documents.”

You laughed. “Honestly? That’s kind of iconic.”

He groaned. “Of course you’d say that.”

Yuji popped up from behind the couch. “Uncle Suku, can she stay forever?”

He sputtered. “No.”

“Yes.” you said at the same time.

Yuji laughed, then returned to his fort.

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for stepping in.”

You waved him off. “I love this stuff. Chaos is my natural habitat.”

“I can tell.” He muttered, eyeing the glitter stuck to your sleeve.

You grinned. “Admit it. You’re relieved I came over.”

He looked away. “I… You’re not entirely useless, I guess.”

“A glowing review.” You said. “Should I write that on my resume?”

You ended up staying all afternoon. Sukuna tried to pretend he was annoyed by it, but the truth was… the apartment felt lighter with you in it. Your laughter made Yuji light up. Your presence calmed the room. You even helped him clean up after Yuji crashed for a nap on the couch, completely worn out from fort-building and broccoli slaying.

“You want tea?” He asked, half-grumbling.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering because you’re being polite, or because you’ve realized I’m delightful?”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m offering because you stopped him from destroying my apartment and my will to live. Tea is the least I can do.”

“Romantic.” You said dryly. “But sure.”

He handed you a mug and sat across from you at the table, eyes half-lidded, arms folded.

The silence was surprisingly… comfortable.

“I still don’t get why you hate me.” You said after a moment.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You kind of do.” You smirked.

He exhaled. “You’re loud.”

“And?”

“Too cheerful.”

“And?”

“You rearranged the mailboxes that one time.”

You laughed. “Because they were in the wrong order. You’re such a Virgo.”

“I’m a Scorpio.”

“That tracks too.”

He gave you a look, but the edge in his eyes was softened by something else. Amusement?

“Okay.” You said, sipping your tea. “Let’s lay it out. You’re grumpy and tense. I’m sunshine and rainbows. Opposites attract.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” You said with a shrug. “Is it working?”

Sukuna opened his mouth, then shut it. For the first time in years Ryomen Sukuna had been rendered speechless. The silence stretched for a bit.

Then he stood and walked to the sink, muttering, “You’re insufferable.”

You smiled behind your mug. Because you knew that in Sukuna language that wasn’t a no.

——————————————————————————

You came over again the next weekend.

This time, Sukuna asked. Not begged. Not pleaded. Just a text that read:

You busy? Yuji’s back. Bring sugar.

You arrived ten minutes later with cupcakes and a grin.

Over the next few weeks, it became a pattern. Sukuna watched Yuji during the day. You popped over to help when you could. The three of you became an oddly functional little trio.

You learned that Sukuna was surprisingly good at drawing. That he secretly loved cooking shows. That he kept extra fuzzy blankets but pretended they were for guests.

He learned that you used sarcasm as a shield. That your last relationship ended because someone told you to “stop being so much.” That you secretly worried you were too loud for quiet people like him.

He told you, one night while Yuji was snoring in the other room “You’re not too much. People just suck.”

You smiled so hard it hurt.

He noticed. He was utterly screwed.

——————————————————————————

The day it all changed, Yuji had just left with his mom, and the apartment was quiet again. You were helping Sukuna pack away the last of the kid’s toys.

You held up a plastic lightsaber. “I’m keeping this.”

“You literally didn’t buy it.”

“I earned it with emotional labor.”

Sukuna smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

You put the lightsaber down and looked at him.

He was closer than you thought. Still in his black hoodie, hair a little messy, he had red finger paint smudged on his left cheek and his eyes were dark and unreadable.

“I like you, you know?” You said softly.

He didn’t respond right away. Then he stepped forward. His hand found your waist.

And just like that he kissed you.

It was warm and slow and soft in a way that made your heart ache. No snark. No banter. Just the press of his lips on yours and the quiet hum of understanding between two people who had somehow, impossibly, become each other’s favorite chaos. When he pulled back, you blinked in shock, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

“Wow.” You whispered. “That was…”

“I should’ve done that weeks ago.” He said.

You smiled. “You absolutely should’ve.”

He hesitated, only for a moment, just enough to make you squirm a bit. “Wanna go out sometime? Like, a real date. No Legos involved.”

You looped your arms around his neck. “Only if you promise to let me win at Mario Kart.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then I’m in.” You beamed at him.

——————————————————————————

The first date was his idea. Which, honestly? Surprised both of you.

It started with a knock on your door, three days after the kiss. You opened it expecting mail or a neighbor with a Wi-Fi emergency. Instead, there was Sukuna, in a navy-blue jacket, holding a small paper bag and looking like he’d spent twenty minutes pacing before mustering the courage to ring your bell.

He cleared his throat. “Put on shoes. I’m taking you somewhere.”

You blinked. “Wow. So romantic. You didn’t even offer me a rose or tell me to pack a bag for a mysterious getaway.”

“I brought food.” He held up the bag like it was a peace treaty.

“What is it?”

“Gyoza from that place you like. The one with the sarcastic waiter.”

You smiled, grabbing your coat. “You’re lucky I’m easy.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “That’s debatable”, but his ears were pink.

——————————————————————————

The date started at a park. Sukuna led you to a quiet, tree-lined path, where you sat on a bench under the soft glow of streetlamps. The weather was cool, the sky cloudy, and for some reason, it felt oddly cinematic.

“You brought me to a park?” You teased. “What are we, eighty?”

“I considered a rooftop, but someone’s afraid of pigeons.”

“I was attacked once.” You said firmly. “They’re sky rats.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and handed you the gyoza bag. “Eat before you get even more dramatic.”

You bit into a dumpling, humming contentedly. “You know, I never expected you to be the ‘pack a picnic and stroll through the park’ kind of guy.”

“I’m not. But you like this kind of stuff.”

You paused mid-chew. He kept looking straight ahead, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You remembered I like this?”

He shrugged. “You talk a lot. Stuff sticks.”

Your chest tightened with that stupid, fluttery ache that happened every time he did something unexpectedly sweet.

And of course, being you, you couldn’t help but push a little. “So… is this your idea of boyfriend material?”

He gave you a dry look. “Don’t push it.”

“I dunno…” You teased, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully. “I might have to make you a Pinterest board.”

“If you do, I’ll set your phone on fire.”

You giggled, and for the first time that evening, he smiled. A real one. Small, lopsided, and rare as hell.

You didn't kiss that night. You both kind of wanted to, but something about it felt too… gentle. Like rushing would break it.

So instead, you walked home with him in silence, hands brushing occasionally. When you reached your door, he said, “Same time next week?”

You grinned. “Only if you bring dessert.”

——————————————————————————

By the third date, he was holding your hand.

By the fourth, he’d let you see his apartment’s second bedroom, the one filled with sketchbooks and drafting tables and old, half-finished models of buildings.

He told you, without looking at you. “I used to want to design theaters.”

You sat beside him on the floor, tracing your fingers over the paper. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Money. Clients want modern. Steel and glass. Emotionless. Easy to clean.”

You whispered, “But you wanted magic.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and said quietly. “Still do.”

That was the night he kissed you again. Not a maybe-kiss, not a I’ve-wanted-to-do-this-for-weeks kiss.

It was a you matter to me kiss.

And that’s when it started.

——————————————————————————

The relationship, if you could even call it that at first, was chaotic.

You were still neighbors. Still bickered like you were trying to win a verbal UFC match. But now he’d kiss you when you were mid-rant. Now you’d steal his hoodies like it was your God-given right. Now you sat on his kitchen counter and kicked your feet while he cooked, and he let you eat the last dumpling without pretending to fight you for it.

Yuji figured it out before either of you said anything.

One Saturday morning, while you were helping him build a pillow fort version 3.0, he looked up and said, “Are you Uncle Suku’s girlfriend now?”

You blinked. “Uh…”

Sukuna, from the other side of the room, said “Yuji.” In almost a warning tone.

“What?” The kid said, frowning. “She’s here all the time. And you kiss. That’s what girlfriends do.”

You covered your face with a pillow.

Sukuna walked over, ruffled Yuji’s hair, and said, “You’re too observant for your own good.”

Yuji beamed. “Does that mean I can call her Auntie?”

“No- ” You and Sukuna said at the same time.

Yuji pouted. “Lame.”

——————————————————————————

It was bumpy, of course. Sukuna didn’t exactly slide into domesticity. The first time you left your hairbrush in his bathroom, he stared at it like it was a live grenade.

“You’re moving in?”

You blinked. “It’s a brush, not a lease agreement.”

“I’m just saying, that’s how it starts. First the brush. Then you’re here every night. Then I wake up and there’s throw pillows on my bed.”

“God forbid you experience lumbar support.”

Eventually, though, he got used to it. You being there. Your humming in the morning. Your socks in his drawer. The way you curled up on his couch and tucked your feet under his thigh like you belonged there.

One night, after too much wine and too many old horror movies, you looked at him,flushed and sleepy, and said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

He froze.

You panicked. “I mean, not like in love in love. Not in a weird way. Just, like, casual love. Like a chill-”

He kissed you. Long. Firm. No hesitation.

When he pulled back, he said “I love you too. Ever since you knocked on my door with a batch of welcome cupcakes.”

You blinked. “You don’t say anything for ten minutes and then just- ?!”

“I was trying not to freak out, okay?” He snapped. “You caught me off guard.”

You snorted. “You? Mr. Stoic? Freaked out?”

He grumbled. “Shut up.”

But you didn’t.

You laughed, leaned into his chest, and said once again “I love you.”

And this time, he whispered it back immediately.

——————————————————————————

Dating Sukuna was like learning a new language.

He didn’t always say the right things. Sometimes he snapped when he meant to ask. Sometimes he shut down when he should’ve opened up. But he showed love in small, quiet gestures.

A thermos of your favorite tea on his counter when you were sick. An extra key on your keyring that you definitely hadn’t put there. A grumble of “Don’t be late” when you had a big meeting.

And you? You loved out loud. Sticky notes on his mirror. Spontaneous takeout at midnight. Kisses on the back of his neck while he worked on new sketches.

You argued, of course. Loudly. Often. Once about the right way to fold towels. Another time about whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie, which, by the way, you won. Once about the color of a shower curtain.

But the make-ups were always worth it.

Sometimes that meant soft apologies whispered under the covers. Sometimes it meant passionate, desperate kisses against the kitchen counter.

Sometimes it meant cuddling on the couch with Yuji between you, asleep, while the TV played forgotten cartoons in the background.

——————————————————————————

One night, months into the chaos, you were curled up on Sukuna’s bed, flipping through one of his sketchbooks. He was brushing his teeth, hair damp from the shower, wearing the gray sweatpants that absolutely should’ve been illegal.

You held up a sketch of a tiny theater with stained glass windows and velvet curtains.

“I love this one.”

He spat into the sink. “Old. From college.”

“Why didn’t you build it?”

He shrugged. “Too sentimental. No one wants that crap.”

You hesitated. “I do.”

He glanced at you in the mirror.

You closed the book. “I want all your sentimental crap. All of it. The weird sketches. The hoodie you never wear but won’t throw away. The grumpy texts. The yelling. The quiet. I want all of it.”

He turned. You waited.

Then, softly, he said, “You already have it.”

You smiled. “Even the hoodie?”

“Especially the hoodie.”

You laughed, and he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

——————————————————————————

Six months after the first kiss, you officially moved in. Not all at once, it started with your toiletries, then your sweaters, then somehow your cat, who terrorised Sukuna for the first week.

The building super made a joke about it one day in the hallway.“You two finally caved, huh?”

Sukuna just smirked, one hand on your lower back.

“Better than her breaking into my apartment every other night.”

You elbowed him. “I never broke in.”

“You climbed through the fire escape.”

“Once!”

“You brought tacos.” He conceded. “So I let it slide.”

——————————————————————————

One morning, while brushing your teeth beside him, you looked at him in the mirror and said, “You know I love you, right?”

He met your eyes. “I know.”

“And you… love me too?”

He leaned down, kissed your toothpaste-foamed cheek, and said “Unfortunately.”

You grinned.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

A slow-burn romance with yelling and laughter and pizza stains. A relationship built on bickering and babysitting and the most unhinged five-year-old matchmaker alive.

And somehow, against all odds? It worked.

——————————————————————————

You two had decided to keep your relationship to yourselves for a while, not that you were ashamed of it because you weren’t in the slightest. You just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of living in your own little bubble, but given that there was a five-years-old that was the embodiment of ADHD that knew… the secret was meant to come out rather sooner than later.

It happened at a family barbecue. A simple, innocent Sunday afternoon.

Sukuna’s sister had invited him, meaning, both of you to her house just outside the city because she wanted to thank you for “Not allowing her brother to throw Yuki out of the window”. It was a yearly tradition: kids running around, way too much food, and at least one uncle getting into an argument about lawn maintenance.

You didn’t expect much. Just decent grilled corn, a slightly-overcooked burger, and maybe a chance to mess with Sukuna’s head by being overly charming to his extended family.

You didn’t expect Yuji to completely detonate your secret relationship like a tiny pink-haired grenade.

——————————————————————————

“I told you.” Sukuna muttered as you got out of the car. “My family is nosy.”

You slipped on your sunglasses. “And I told you: I’m adorable. They’ll love me.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “You stole my last piece of cheesecake last night.”

“And yet you still let me wear your hoodie this morning. That’s love, baby.”

He made a noise that could’ve been a scoff or a suppressed laugh. You counted it as a win either way.

You walked into the backyard hand-in-hand, a detail you both completely forgot until it was too late. Music was playing, kids were screaming, and the smell of charcoal filled the air.

Sukuna’s sister came over first, grinning. “There he is! The brooding menace himself.” She said as she hugged the brooding tattooed man next to you. “And his emotional support ray of sunshine.” She beamed at you, as she embraced you.

She laughed as hugged you both. “It’s about time you brought her around again. Yuji hasn’t shut up about her.”

“Of course not.” You said. “I’m his favorite adult.”

“Excuse me?” Sukuna said.

“I don’t make him eat vegetables.”

“You bribed him with marshmallows to get him to brush his teeth.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

Sukuna muttered something about bad influences and childhood cavities, but his hand didn’t leave your lower back the whole time.

You tried to play it cool. Smile. Be casual. Only… it was hard to stay subtle when Yuji was running toward you at full speed, arms wide.

“AUNTIEEEE!”

Sukuna flinched like he’d been hit.

You bent down to scoop Yuji into a hug. “There’s my favorite little chaos goblin!”

“I missed you!” He said. “Uncle Suku was so boring last week. He wouldn’t let me use the hose indoors.”

“Because I’m not a psychopath.”

You whispered to Yuji “We’ll stage a mutiny later.”

He giggled and kissed your cheek loudly.

That was strike one.

——————————————————————————

Strike two came later when one of Sukuna’s cousins, a tall guy with a man bun and too many opinions about kombucha asked. “So, what’s your deal with the grump here? Just friends?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deflect with your usual “I’m his handler” joke, but Yuji beat you to it.

“They kiss a lot!” Exclaimed proudly, licking a popsicle. “Like, a lot a lot. I saw them one time on the couch and Uncle Suku said I had to pretend I didn’t.”

Dead silence. You blinked. Sukuna blinked.

The cousin blinked and grinned. “Ohhhh.”

You covered your face.

——————————————————————————

Strike three came barely a minute later when Yuji, still unaware of the social nuke he’d dropped, said to Sukuna’s mom, loudly. “Uncle Suku said he’s gonna marry her one day but he’s being a big chicken about it.”

Sukuna choked on his beer. You very, very calmly set down your lemonade before you dropped it.

Yuji looked up at his grandmother innocently. “Right, Ba-chan? He said he was gonna do it soon. With a ring and everything. Like on TV.”

The silence was now legendary. Sukuna’s mother turned slowly to her eldest son.

He coughed, red-faced, and muttered “Kids say weird things.”

“Oh no.” You said, barely holding back laughter. “Let’s hear more about this ring, chicken man.”

“I’m going to exile him.” Sukuna growled. “I swear to God.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t bring it up again that night.

He was flustered enough. You could tell by how much he was cleaning. Sukuna never cleaned while angry, only while thinking. While trying to process. And judging by how many times he rearranged his spice rack, he was practically having an existential crisis.

So you let it go, for about a week at least. Until you noticed him acting… weirder than usual.

You’d wake up and find him staring at you like he was trying to memorize every freckle on your face. He kept checking his coat pockets, muttering under his breath. He googled “best restaurants with rooftop views near me” and pretended he didn’t. He even said “I love you” first one night and then acted like he hadn’t.

You were no genius, but you could put two and two together. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Because this? Watching him unravel like a tightly wound spool of sarcasm and anxiety? This was fun.

——————————————————————————

The night it finally happened, he invited you to dinner. Which wasn’t weird. Except he was nervous. Weirdly nervous.

“You okay?” You asked, brushing lint off his shirt as he fiddled with his keys.

“Fine.”

“You look like you’re about to testify in court.”

He scowled. “Just get in the car.”

He took you to a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. Very fancy. Very romantic. Very not Sukuna.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Trying to get laid or trying to hide a body?”

“Shut up.”

The dinner was good. The wine was better. And you were just starting to feel that warm, fizzy buzz when Sukuna reached into his coat pocket.

Paused. Frowned. Checked the other pocket. Then the inside. Then his wallet.

“Everything okay?” You asked, eyeing him as if he had just grown a second head.

“I… I forgot something.”

You tilted your head. “What’d you forget?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair into a waiter. Then he mumbled “Be right back” and practically sprinted down the stairs.

You stared after him.

Okay you thought to yourself, So either he’s proposing or he just remembered he left the oven on.

——————————————————————————

Ten minutes later, he came back, flushed and out of breath, holding…

A tiny, slightly crumpled black velvet box.

You blinked. He sat down, still panting.

“Had to run to the car.” He muttered. “Was in the glovebox. Under your fuzzy socks.”

You stared at him. Then at the box. Then back at him.

“You kept a ring next to my socks?”

“I panicked!”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

He exhaled and pushed the box toward you, not opening it, not kneeling, just sliding it across the table like it was a cursed artifact.

“I was gonna do this right.” He said. “Fireworks. String lights. Maybe a cat in a tux.”

“A cat in a- ”

“But then Yuji opened his gob, and you started looking at me like you knew, and I started panicking every time you reached for a coffee mug like you might find it by accident- ”

You opened the box. Simple. Silver band. A small, round-cut diamond in a vintage setting. Elegant. Understated. So you.

You looked up, eyes glossy. “You picked this?”

He shrugged. “You said you liked rings that look like heirlooms. You were half-asleep. Probably don’t even remember saying it.”

Your chest ached. You stood, walked around the table, and sat on his lap, not caring that half the restaurant was now watching.

“You’re a mess.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And you’re a menace.” He said. “I think I’m about to have a heart attack, so can you please just put me out of my misery?”

“You didn’t actually ask, you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Will you marry me, even though I’m emotionally stunted and allergic to sentiment?”

You grinned. “Absolutely.”

He kissed you. Not gentle, not shy, but completely, hopelessly yours.

Applause broke out from a nearby table.

You flipped them off without breaking the kiss.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t tell Yuji until a week later.

He was on your shared couch, watching cartoons, shoveling goldfish crackers into his mouth. You sat beside him. Sukuna stood behind the couch, arms crossed, trying not to smile.

“Hey, champ.” You said. “Guess what?”

Yuji looked at you.

“We’re getting married.”

Yuji gasped. Loudly.

Then jumped up and screamed. “I WIN! I WIN! I TOLD YOU!”

You blinked. “Told who what?”

He pointed at Sukuna. “He said he wasn’t gonna do it until next year. But I said he was a big chicken and he was gonna do it this month! I win!”

Sukuna stared at his nephew like he was an ancient demon haunting his bloodline.

“Did you bet on my proposal timeline?” You asked.

Yuji looked smug. “I also bet with Ba-chan. She owes me ice cream.”

You howled with laughter.

Sukuna groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m being outsmarted by a five-year-old?”

You leaned into him, kissing his cheek. “Because you are.”

Neither of you would change a thing.

Tags: @noooo-onee @suna-yoshihara @hawkwithsocks @pickledsoda

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #sukuna fic #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen fluff #jjk au #jjk blog #sukuna oneshot

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yasministration · 12 hours ago

Note

fred weasley x malfoy!reader who’s the ‘sirius black’ of her family.

and everyone’s heard of the malfoys, of course they have; so it comes as a complete and utter shock when their eldest child, their only daughter, gets sorted into gryffindor. the entire great hall goes quiet, and even dumbledore himself is shocked upon hearing the hat’s decision. it was hard enough starting at a new school during your sixth year, but it was even harder watching her younger brother practically have a heart attack upon hearing the news. the only person who didn’t seem shocked, however, was fred. he knew from the moment that he bumped into her on the train that she was different. and to make matters even worse, she can’t help but fall in love with him. especially after they become fast friends, and he’s there for her through all the mistreatment she receives at the hands of her parents and brother over such a minuscule matter such as getting sorted into a different house.

there are worse things - fred weasley x malfoy!reader

summary: when your parents finally send you off to hogwarts, things don't go according to plan, because in less that twelve hours, you've been sorted into gryffindor and made friends with your housemates. And even worse: Weasleys wc: 1.6k+ a/n: okay i didn't know how to fit all my ideas into one fic bc i didnt want to have to write boring details, so i didn't. so i may or may not write a pt2 depending on how i'm feeling. yolo. also, haven't proof read it.

“Would you look at that? Looks like Lucius Malfoy has finally released his daughter from his clutch of private tutors.”

Mr. Weasley’s words attracted the attention of every one of his children standing on the platform. His gaze however, was fixed on the Malfoy family, stood just far enough not to hear his comment.

The Weasley siblings spun around in unison, eyes widening at the sight of the Malfoy siblings standing with their parents. You ran both hands over your shoulders, nudging your hair to fall over the elegant slope of your back.

Gripping the side of your sunglasses, you raised them up to rest atop your head, scanning the entire platform around you as the lighting became high-key at the absence of the shaded frames. Humming attentively, you straightened the jewelled necklace around your neck before turning to face your younger brother.

“Shall we?” Draco nodded at your words, smiling at the concerned look on your father’s face. He had finally lost all hope for his daughter and just hoped that Hogwarts would do the work your tutors had never succeeded in doing.

You crouched slightly, picking up your trunk and strutted onto the train without one last look towards your parents.

“Hogwarts can barely take one Malfoy, but two?” You heard the comment behind you, accompanied by instant loud shushing. Spinning on your heels, you came face to face with three younger students, around Draco’s age. They all looked terrified at your stare, as though you were going to hex them. Behind them stood two handsome gingers. Twins.

Grinning widely, you scoffed in amusement. “Oh please, I could be the only student at Hogwarts and they wouldn’t be able to handle me. God knows my parents couldn’t.” An annoyed call of your name had you laughing. “You couldn’t wait until mum and dad were out of sight?”

“Am I known as someone how likes to wait?” Draco was rendered speechless, rolling his eyes. You stopped in front of the compartment Draco had stored your bags in. “I’m going to go look for Flint,” You told him, walking past your little group of fans. You stopped by the two tall twins, putting a hand on the closest one’s bicep, aiming your next words at him “Unless you’d like to keep me busy.”

Your laughs echoed down the hallway, and Harry almost decided he didn’t hate Draco as much. After all, he was your brother, and clearly he had a good relationship with you, who he instantly decided was one of the coolest people he had met.

Fred looked back to watch you go, noticing the undeniable Malfoy elegance you held in your footsteps. However, he could not forget the mischief in your eyes as you spoke to the three teenagers in front of him. More than the mischief though? The flirtatious gleam in your eyes when you had walked past him.

The twin didn’t get the chance to lay his eyes on you again until he got to the great hall for dinner. Stood next to McGonagall and all the first years, you definitely stood out, but it didn’t matter, because by that point everyone had heard that the original Malfoy sibling was coming to Hogwarts. Fred and everyone else in the great hall leaned closer as you strolled up to the old stool at the front of the stage, tucking your skirt underneath you as you sat down. It wasn’t even ten seconds until the hat surprised everyone, yelling out “GRYFFINDOR!”

It wouldn’t have been too bad if gasps filled the great hall, because at least you’d know that people were predominantly shock. But what you were met with was so much worse. The utter silence that filled the hall was suffocating.

Clearly, it wasn’t the outcome you were expecting either, because as Professor McGonagall lifted the hat off your head, your hand immediately shot up to grasp the hat’s brim. The older Professor was so surprised that she didn’t stop you from snatching the sorting hat and placing it on your head once more. “See, I think this is more proof that you’re a gryffindor.” It grumbled, eyes animatedly looking towards Professor McGonagall, begging to be taken away from you.

Fred looked over his shoulder to glance at your brother. Draco’s face was drained of all its colour and he held a hand over his chest, eyes wide with shock. That’s not was Draco was expecting. But for some reason, Fred was not shocked, and his hand immediately stuck out in a wave to call you over. After all, after that interaction on the train, how could you possibly be a slytherin?

“Fine.” You huffed, standing up and flicking your hair over your shoulder, beelining directly to the Gryffindor table. You were thankful that the two ginger twins you had seen before waved you over, otherwise you feared you’d have stood around awkwardly.

“Thank you.” You smiled, trying to shoo the shock and disappointment off your face. Finally, you glanced up to find Draco’s eyes in the crowd, and he offered you a weak smile, eyes apologetic. Your parents would not be happy about it. “So I’ve just let down my entire blood line, how have your days been?” It seemed those words were enough to get the twins and their friends Lee and Angelina to warm up to you.

You quickly learned that Angelina was George’s girlfriend, and when your eyes went wide in panic, George was quick to reassure you that he wasn’t the one you flirted with on the train.

But the nightmare didn’t end there.

In fact, by then it hadn’t really started. It really began when you were having breakfast the next morning, grateful that Angelina was your dorm mate and you got along so well — a discovery you’d made whilst staying up all night and chatting in bed. But then, the second you’d spotted a red envelope amidst the letters being flown into the great hall, you knew it addressed to you.

You stood up immediately, attracting the eyes of Angelina and Lee as the letter dropped into your plate. “Who wants to come see how far I can run until this thing bursts?” Lee shot you an apologetic cringe and you gave him a bored look.

“Okay, you bores. I guess I’ll do it alone.” You grasped the edge of the red envelope, holding it from the tip of your fingers as though it would burn you. Spinning around, you came face to face with Fred and George.

“Where are we going?” Fred asked, immediately following you out of the great hall, abandoning the idea of having breakfast. He sped his pace up to match yours until you were breaking into a run, giggling as Fred called after you, asking “Wait, where are we going?”

“I don’t know!” Fred scoffed in amusement, but he blindly followed you further into the castle until you suddenly gasped, stumbling backwards towards him.

Oh.

Now he understood.

The red envelope sprung up into the air, forming an angry face as it spat out the following words. “In all the centuries the Malfoys have walked the earth, every single one of them has been a slytherin. Until you.” Lucius Malfoy’s voice boomed in the hallway, and you were grateful that it was empty, other than you and Fred.

“Your mother fought hard for us to send you to hogwarts, and you’ve already disgraced us within your first hour there! Fix your behaviour, act like we’ve raised you, otherwise we’re bringing you back home to an unpleasant surprise!”

Fred was befuddled. Never had he thought parents could speak to their children that way. Sure, he knew the Malfoys were cruel, but that was another level.

A laugh took him by surprise. Fred glanced over to you, meeting your amused gaze. “Not the worst thing he’s said to me. Would be scarier if I could see his face.” “Is that not-? Are you okay?” You shrugged your shoulders with a small grin as you approached him, hooking your arm through his and beginning your trek back to the great hall. “Yeah, I’ll probably cry about it in a couple of hours when it hits me.”

“Come find me when that happens.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you shot him a look from the corner of your eyes. “Why would I do that?”

“You know, for comfort? A hug if you need one? No one deserves to feel like shit on their own.”

“Oh, okay then.” Fred shot you a look, feeling bad because of the shocked look on your face. You cleared your throat, feeling his eyes on you. “You haven’t had breakfast yet, come on.”

As you settled back down at your spot on the long table, your three other friends shot you questioning looks. Fred decided he would be the one to speak as you stirred yourself a cup of tea. “Yeah, if I were the one to get that howler I would have thrown up on the spot, but she perseveres.”

You scoffed into the rim of your mug, nudging Fred’s side. You took a long sip of tea, missing the dark flush that overtook his features. From in front of him, George shot him brother a pointed look, quickly looking away when your gaze flitted up again.

You urged yourself not to look back at the older twin, but you couldn’t help yourself from staring as he shot a question at you, something quidditch related. “Huh?” “Do you play? You know, ‘cause Draco plays and stuff?” You rolled your eyes “No. Where they encouraged Draco to take up quidditch, they put me in ballet. Typical, right?”

Immediately turning away, you found Draco across the hall again. If you weren’t in trouble already for being a gryffindor, you would certainly get in trouble for the group of friends you’d made. Even worse, the boy you were beginning to catch feelings for.

Well, you huffed, there are worse things than a Malfoy and a Weasley. Right?

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @boromoony, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @potterheadlovespotter

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katscki · 2 days ago

Text

Refreshing

Landscaper!Bakugou x shy!reader she gets flustered easily. Mentions that reader is in college

M-list

In which reader goes out to give bakugou a refreshment after a hot days work. Fluff

WC: gur idk I wrote this in tumblr you count

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Thank god for summer break.

I mean any break is appreciated when you’re going through a school as rigorous as yours, but this one felt… different.

It totally didn’t have anything to do with the fact that every Wednesday he showed up, ball cap on headphones blasting, ready to work. Nope not at all.

And you know what? Thank god your mom happened to be at work at this time every Wednesday, because if she saw your tongue basically licking the window right now? Oh she would be out there in two seconds trying to introduce you.

It was hard enough trying to find a boyfriend at school, all of the men there were horn dogs with zero morals but now that you’re home it’s like every guy to make eye contact with she just has to go up and talk about how great her daughter is. It’s nice really, but stressful.

You watch rough hands turn the key of the riding mower, powering the machine, the laud noise taking you out of your thoughts.

Before you can get caught ogling the what seems to be twenty year old man, you back away from the window, forcing yourself into the kitchen. God you had been dying to talk to him, to learn his name, see what his voice sounded like. But as sexy as he was, he looked mean.

Your fingers gravitate towards the weather app, “Jeez, 97 degrees?! He’s probably dying…” in all honesty he ran hot anyways probably already used to the blistering heat, this was his job after all. How were you to know that though? The poor man all drenched in sweat, face slightly flushed and out of- “Stop it, stop it, stop it!” You pull yourself out of your own head.

You glance at a cup and then the fridge, he’s probably sweating bullets right? It would be nice to just offer, he doesn’t have to take you up on it… right?

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you march outside to where he sits on the mower. Shoot he’s not gonna be able to hear you, you should have waited till he was done, maybe you’ll just turn around he hasn’t seen-

Right as you spin on your heel, the mower suddenly stops and, “Oi. Ya need somethin?” It’s gruff in the most perfect way, heat climbs up your neck as you turn back around much slower this time.

“I-I’m sorry I should have waited until you were done. I’ll just go.” God you’ve never been more embarrassed in your life.

“Yer already out here just say it.” He says like it’s nothing to him, how can he just talk to strangers like this? He’s so annoyed with you already. Little do you know he’s trying real hard to keep the swearing to a minimum as to not scare you off.

“W-well you looked really hot- I mean! It’s really hot today! And I wanted to see if you wanted to come in for some water?” You can’t even meet his gaze, staring down at your little shorts. When you do look up you make eye contact with his water bottle. Sitting right beside him in the cup holder. Full.

“Oh jeez… you look good- no! it looks like you’re good- on that so I’ll just… I’ll just go back inside sorry!” He doesn’t give you a chance to turn around as he speaks again.

“Water sounds good.” A boyish grin dances across his features and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. Taken aback by his smile all you can manage is a breathless little “okay” your own smile gracing your face.

Water breaks became more often, visits stretched to multiple days a week, and shyness began to slowly fade with him. Maybe your mom was right, you just had to put yourself out there.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

AN: this is shitty me thinks I’m sorry I’ve gotten so much worse at writing but oh whale practice makes perfect…

#mha #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugou x you #fanfic #katsuki x reader

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magicwithered · 2 days ago

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BITEMARKS

Pairing: Sylus/Reader

Summary: You hold up a hand, bleeding and annoyed. “Friendly!” Stupid hybrid, you think, “I’m friendly.” - Or, by the time you realize Sylus is different, it’s too late. ao3

A/N: MC has a name in this and you are not the MC I fear.

Warning: Surprisingly? No warnings this time. | WC: 5k

“He needs a muzzle,” the lady says, walking you past the rows and rows of abandoned hybrids. Some are cute, the same way any animal is cute really. A bunny hybrid with too sharp eyes is paired with a raccoon hybrid who seems, for lack of a better word, completely oblivious to the world around it. Them?

But that’s not the one you’re picking up. You wouldn’t want to pick up any of them if you had a say so, but here you are.

“Get an ESH, it’ll help,” your therapist had said and well…here you are.

You don’t have a thing against them. Hybrids, you mean. It’s just…weird. They look like you, talk like you, walk like you and think like you. They’re also genetically spliced with animal DNA and something about that feels just a little too dystopian for you to be comfortable with. How could you own something that looks so similar?

You let out a puff of breath, waving off the anxieties. It’s too late now, you’ve committed to it.

“Nah, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you mutter, shuffling behind her. She gives a look like you’re stupid. Maybe you are stupid. You don’t know yet. You feel stupid, walking down this fucking shelter to adopt a hybrid that was on the kill center list.

Fuck you’re gonna die, aren’t you?

You want to take a step back but can’t because the rusty hinges squeak as she opens the cage and gestures. She’s clearly not going in there to get your…pet out. You glance back to the lady as she loiters by the door and you sigh, pushing your way in and holding a hand up.

“Hey,” you say softly, eyes adjusting to the dark of the cage. It seems they keep this…thing in the dark, and instead of a growl it’s a mix of a snarl and a hiss, something lashes out and biting your hand sharp and hard. Any harder and you know it would have broken your bones. Before you can stop yourself, your hand lashes out, fist curling and smashing into a face. Nothing crunches, but something gives, a slight whimper in the air as your fist connects. Not what you meant to do, but your fight reflex kicks in before you can stop it and you pull your hand closer to yourself, cradling it closer to your chest.

The lady doesn’t even protest your sudden flailing, seeming to accept it (though, you know, anywhere else they would have shouted at you for injuring one of the strays). “Fuck!”

Your eyes bare down on the creature, slitted reds meeting yours as his ears seem to airplane out. Instead of fear, which would have made you apologize, you see something of amusement on the creature's face. If it, he, could pace, you would think he would be prowling the cage, but he’s trapped closer to the wall., It’s clear the chain was shortened for the workers safety, and you hear the links clack together.

“I’m, fuck,” you hiss past the pain, nostrils flaring out in annoyance. You hold up a hand, bleeding and annoyed. “Friendly!” Stupid hybrid, you think, “I’m friendly.” You can hear the splatter of blood dripping on the floor as the hybrid lifts slightly, hunched over by the short chain.

His lips lift in another snarl, but you can see a bruise starting to form where your fist slammed into his face. Sighing, you settle, dropping to catch his eye again, hand still up. “What’s your name?”

His ear twitches and he hisses when the worker moves to the cage. She jumps, scurrying back, gripping the cage door tightly.

“Sylus,” she answers for him, “it was on his form. He’s not a talker.” Idiot, you can hear.

You didn’t exactly look at the name or the species of hybrid. You just saw the kill center date and clicked adopt. A piece of you felt something like kinship to the thing, seeing even the adoption agencies writing him off. Reminded you of yourself before someone had scooped your insides and melded them together with friendship and understanding.

“Sylus, huh?” His ears twitch again, and you give him your name. You hold your other hand out for the worker, gesturing for the muzzle and the leash and she all but tosses it to you even as the hybrid watches you. He makes a chuffing sound, and you raise an eyebrow, holding the muzzle up for him instead of saying anything.

It’s quiet for a moment before his head lowers, fitting the muzzle around his face of his own volition, allowing you to strap it around his head. Your hand still hurts, but he lets you work with no more outburst and the worker shuffles to the front, far from the hybrid, as if to keep a distance. You set to signing the release paperwork, the hybrid towering over you as you do so. Any time the worker so much as twitches he hisses in his throat, a warning as she tries to rush you out the door.

This is not like one of those moments where they are happy a good hybrid is being taken into a good home. It’s clear everyone in the shitty little shelter is happy for him to be gone. You know when you tell Yana this, she’s gonna freak out and try and get this shelter shut down. But you can’t really blame them for being happy he’s leaving, he did bite you.

Still, you look at this towering hybrid, clothes barely covering his frame, collared and muzzled and sigh. White hair, fuzzy ears and you look down seeing “snow leopard hybrid” and tug him with you.

“Let’s get you out of here.” To your surprise, he listens.

Your apartment is not built for one of these things. It’s the first thing you think about when Sylus’ hulking frame nearly clips the doorway and he scowls at it. It takes him some time to get used to the place, smaller than what his kind needs, but bigger than the cage he was kept at the shelter. But eventually, he does get used to it, sprawling in your loveseat that sits in the perfect spot for the sun to hit.

Sometimes, you kick the loveseat and jolt him awake with a soft “fucker” so he moves out the way. But you’re not dumb enough to think he doesn’t hear you practically down the block.

From what you can tell, Sylus is one of those intelligent types. The ones who may even be able to speak, not so animal he’s like a glorified pet. More human in his splice than snow leopard. But sometimes, you watch his lip curl as he hisses at something near the door and you remember that it’s enough. He might not be a talker, but his eyes are too intelligent, and he won’t be okay with scraps for food.

You’d followed the instructions in the pamphlet about his diet only to watch it go to waste and him steal the food right from your plate when you weren’t looking. It happened one times too many before you just decided to make enough for two people, placing a plate in his room when it was all finished. He ate meat rarer than you can stomach, but he ate at the very least. You can at least tell your therapist you’ve managed to not accidentally kill your pet like so many others do when they neglect them.

On your off days you read through his file, extensive as it is. Several pages, almost a mini novel of being adopted and coming back and being adopted. His longest stint was in a drug den of sorts. Possible bodyguard or hybrid fighting center, the report reads, food aggression and territorial.

Then in big, bold letters: NEEDS TO BE MUZZLED WHEN HANDLED.

You turn to look at the hybrid, nestled nicely on your couch, taking up the whole thing and unwilling to move and back to the report. Despite the initial incident, you hadn’t had any problems with him, no biting, no scratching. A hiss here or there, but he barely made his presence known other than to get fur everywhere on your couch and eat all your meat.

Sighing, you push the door close with the heel of your boot.

“Get up.”

The shithead ignores you, ears airplaned in his annoyance. “He can’t stay trapped in that tiny apartment forever,” Yana had said this afternoon during lunch break, “having two bedrooms is not enough. He needs to stretch his legs.”

She would know since Caleb required more energy than he’s worth. Despite this, she loves the king cobra hybrid like he hadn’t ruined her for other people. The two of them, freaks, you think, throwing a shirt at Sylus.

“I said get up,” you repeat, holding the collar and leash. Slitted eyes round out as he takes in the image of you with a flared lip. His snarl peeters to a close before it even really starts, head tilting. “We’re going out.”

Sylus takes his sweet time, and it would bother you if it wasn’t obvious he was trying to curb his enthusiasm. He lets you collar and leash him, and shove a shirt on his otherwise naked torso before walking with you. It’s not dark outside, far from it as the sun slows to lower during the summer months.

Instead everything is a brilliant orange as the two of you walk to park. Living on the far side of your job might be hell, nearly an hours drive to and from and not worth it half the time. But what you trade off in driving you pick up having a park that’s half woods and all open land. You suppose now that you have a feral thing for a hybrid, it works out well.

You unclip his leash and grab his collar, jerking him down to your eye level. Sylus is taller than you, and you are not lacking in height, far from it. It makes it even more infuriating when his eyebrow ticks up in amusement.

“You bite someone, you die. You attack someone, you die.” You let the words sit over him as you jerk him even closer. “You try and run away, I hunt you down and shoot you like a wild animal and then you die.” A pause. “Got it?”

Instead of fear, much to your annoyance, Sylus blinks slowly before nodding in amusement. He waits until let go of his collar and allows you to settle yourself into the grass before he leaves. He disappears for a bit, but not completely out of sight, and for once you let your weary bones relax, basking in the sun.

He moves around the place like he owns it, and you can see other hybrids ears twitch just in his proximity. Just his presence alone is enough to have some others scramble to their owners, ears flatten to their skull, a soft whine as Sylus moves around with purpose. Despite that, and you know you should feel bad, you recline easily, letting the waning sun wash over you as he does what he wants.

Every once in a while, Sylus returns to you, too dignified to have a twig caught in the fur of his ear, but much too disheveled to say anything but what he was doing.

Hunting. Though there was no blood on his chest to signify that he killed anything. You’re not sure you would care even if he did, unfortunately. You know exactly who you are, unconcerned about the world at large as long as the people you care about are protected, and you suppose Sylus is yours now. Legally, at the very least, so you would defend his right to protect himself, even if it was violent.

Especially if it was violent.

The suns ember glow retreats behind the horizon, dying flames fighting the dark night sky when he returns the final time. You don’t move, eyes closed in comfort when he crunches leaves beneath his feet, his collarclanging as he slides into a rest next to you. He rests his cheek gently against your thigh, nuzzling into it before relaxing, a small purr escaping him. You don’t move, not a goddamn inch lest he snarls out at you. You’re beginning to understand this annoying hybrid, and you’re not afraid per se, but you’d rather avoid another injury.

Your thigh jumps as he presses his face closer to the seam of your pants and you push him off. “Should’ve muzzled you,” you mutter and he huffs out a breath of amusement. “Let’s go, I have work in the morning.”

His snarl is low, but heard and you look at him, ears flattened and eyes slitted, with a raised eyebrow.

“Get up.”

Sylus does as you say, not because he’s afraid of you, but because you command it so, even after he yowls his discontent, even after the first meeting ends in a bite. You are his owner in a way you, yourself, aren’t even aware of, and he will not deny you.

A pop cracks the air as you roll your neck, and stand up, already making your way back to the streets of the world.

Sylus starts coming into your room after that. He waits until you’re asleep to nudge your body from the middle of the bed and bracket your body with his warmth. His tail wraps around the plush of your thigh, and he purrs into your neck. You wake up long enough to grumble and tell him to get out, but you never really fight him on it. Every morning is a master class of detangling, trying your hardest to unwrap his arms around you to get ready for work.

Some days he wakes with a snarl, and instead of even trying, you tell your boss you’re going to be a bit late for work. (I’m having a bit of a hybrid problem, you text her, and she understands for the most part.)

He starts grooming you, rough tongue pressing against the pulse of your neck, digging into skin uncomfortable. He completely ignores your grumbles of discomfort, hissing when you move too much. It causes some fights, your hand snapping out to catch his jaw and dig your fingers into her mouth, wrapping around his canine as you tell him to stop hissing at you.

One day he grooms you until the depth of your skin is an unflattering red and you push him away. You know you only manage it because he lets you, but you’re so annoyed you don’t think about it.

“Stop fucking grooming me,” you snap, gently tapping the rag against your skin, and with a soft hiss you realize you’re bleeding a bit from the continued drag of his rough tongue. “Look at what you’re doing! God damn it, Sylus.”

He blinks at you once, twice, three times before clamping his hand over your wrist and pulling you back. He sits you between the cradle of his legs, snarling at you when you try to move again, teeth snapping shut, just on the side of slow not to hurt you when you try to push away.

“Stink,” he grumbles, tipping your head to the side and biting. The pain is instant, his fangs digging into flesh. You jerk in pain, and the struggle of trying to leave is futile. He keeps you there, though the bite is not nearly as deep as you know it could be, moisture from the droplets of blood staining your work top. Sylus is unrelenting, and if it wasn’t for the pain you would’ve realized that he talked for the first time. Big fat tears well in your eyes, sliding down your cheeks, plip, plip, plipping on the skin of your chest. His chest presses against your back, a steady inhale and exhale as if he doesn’t care he’s hurting you.

It’s painful when he pulls his fangs out, gently kissing the wound even as you cry in his arms. He doesn’t shush you, but he does purr deep in his throat, something soothing as your body, suddenly alight in flame, settles to a soft ember. “You stink,” he says again softly, tilting your head to get a better look at the bite mark.

It’s quiet for a moment before you look at him again. “You talk.”

His look is amused, red eyes narrowed and white hair mussed from when he nuzzled his way into your space earlier. His chest echoes with a soft hum of acknowledgment. “I talk,” he repeats with a nod. Pain for pain dictates that you punch him. So you do. Hard. He lets out a soft sound of pain when your fist digs into his stomach, the firm press of abs hurting the skin of your knuckles.

“You’ve been able to talk all this time?” You hit him again, this time softer, and he grins at you.

“Of course I’ve been able to talk, kitten,” he says, stretching. The cut of his chest and biceps illuminate by the way he stretches out and you blink at him for a second dazed. Against your better judgment you bring a hand up and twist his nipple and instead of a yowl he laughs.

“Been trying to communicate with your big, mean ass for the better of four months and you’ve just blinked at me. Whole time you could’ve been talking to me.”

Sylus shrugs, ears twitching in amusement as you get up.

“What else can you do? Other than get on my goddamn nerves?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he thinks, clearly mulling over what he wants to say before his head tips to the side. “I’ll tell you later.”

It takes you months to get used to him after that. Before it was easy because he didn’t speak, but now that you know that he does, you have a hard time with his presence. Maybe it was because you had gotten so used to the silence that hearing him speak continued to jarr you, but you were working on it.

It definitely did not help that he thought it was funny, watching you jump or tense with a shit-eating grin before repeating himself so he could get the answer. You complain to your best friend about it enough that Yana invites the two of you over to her apartment, and at first you decline (you would like to spend as little time with Caleb as possible thank you) but then you think it might be a good idea. Just a play date. Or a way to get under Sylus’ skin as much as he gets under yours. So you drag the man to her apartment one weekend and…

Well.

Snakes were not known to be territorial, at least you think that’s the case and snow leopards are not considered aggressive, but Caleb and Sylus clash immediately. First of all, Caleb doesn’t like anyone in Yana’s space, and you knew that when you two became friends. She might be oblivious to the way he watches her, but you have never been under the illusion that he’s some mild tempered sweetheart.

It was a surprise to learn that he walked the world as a non-hybrid, considering he was one. But you’ve learned that the two had secrets in spades, and one of them was that most people were not aware of Caleb being a hybrid. He had no scales, first of all, at least not in any obvious places, and his eyes were normal enough that no one paid much attention. It made the difference between Sylus and Caleb obvious, though. Your’s so obviously a leopard of sorts, with his ears and tail. Tiny puffs of fur that coated his chest in fine hairs and a happy trail that tapered into his pants, and Caleb, smooth skinned except until you looked closely enough to see the cracks near his eyes.

And they fucking hated each other.

On wiff of the others scent had Sylus standing in front of you, hackles raised as the door opened. So used to you, was Caleb, he didn’t bat an eyelash except a slight bothered tick of the eyebrow, and so unused to Sylus that it seemed he was gearing to attack.

Instead, you grab Caleb’s face, full palm over his nose and mouth and push him out of the way. One part because he lets you and the other part because you’ve learned how to deal with his…everything.

“Behave,” you say, shouldering your way through the door and pulling Sylus with you. Caleb smiles, something cold, but fond enough from familiarity, and opens his hands in faux calm.

“I’m always nice.”

You make a face and point. “Behave,” this time it’s aimed to Sylus, before you leave the two of them alone to grab Yana. The two of you spend a lot of time in her bedroom, giggling away at childhood pictures and locking the world away. The two of them hate it but Yana levels the most adorable pout at Caleb that he backs away and you grab Sylus’ chin with a stern frown and they get it together long enough for a break.

It’s not until you get home that Sylus makes his displeasure known. Clawed hand comes up, gripping your waist as he lifts you and toes the door closed.

“I did not like him,” he says, carrying you to the couch. His claws prickle your skin, cutting into your clothes and you frown as he shreds it. “I did not like that interaction and I think you should make it up to me.”

“Make it up how?” You yelp, back tumbling to the couch as he dumps you into the cushion, pulling your shorts off. “Sylus what the f–”

Red eyes look at you, narrowed and a bit irritated and he kisses the seam of you outside your underwear. “Gonna taste you,” he says, “gonna touch you. I’m gonna scent you until every hybrid around knows you belong to me.” A pause. “Good?”

You should push him away, but you don’t. Not just you don’t. You can’t. Sylus was all consuming, and even after months, nearly a year, of being in his company you have become less and less immune to his presence. Attractive, attentive, loving. Sylus looks at you like you are everything he could have ever wanted and then some. From the moment you took him from the shelter, he has been burrowing his way into your skin until you could no longer deny him his wants.

And it wasn’t like you wanted to.

You nod, wetting your bottom lip as he kisses you once, twice, three times, cunt clenching over nothing as he nuzzles into you. Sylus breathes you in, a shudder running through his body as he licks you through the fabric. He grumbles, a whiff of you from the fabric before hooking his finger and pushing your underwear to the side. His tongue is rough, but gentle as he suckles your clit into his mouth. He hums, sending a zing through you that clenches your gut and tenses your thigh. A thumb presses against the seam of you curiously, swiping your arousal against your outer lips before switching the his pointer and pushing into you. One is not enough, and his head tilts to the side in thought as he pulls his mouth off you for a second.

“Please, please, please, please, please,” you groan out, thighs trembling as he slips another finger, curling them as he thrusts up, wrapping his lips around you once more. You’d close your thighs around his head if it was not for the fact that his shoulder width and his other hand wasn’t clamped around your thigh. Your head tips backwards, chest heaving, he continues to lick into you.

Sylus is aware of the texture of his tongue, rough spikes keeping it from being a smooth sensation, spikey pain and heat raising up your spine with each lick and suck. He pulls back again, slipping a third finger in as he kisses the hood of your clit. It’s annoying how close you are already just from a few licks and nudges. His fingers are long and thick, pressing into a space that you didn’t even know existed. Your toes curl, breath stuttering in your throat as your eyes squeeze shut just as the pleasure crests and washes over you.

Your spine curls, skin tingling as the orgasm runs through your bloodstream. Sylus helps you ride the wave, slowing his fingers as he pulls off your clit, pressing his nose against your outer lips, taking a deep breath. He does not give you much chance to recover, however, slipping his fingers out of you to grab your thighs and open them wider. He deftly pulls the drawstring of his joggers off, slipping them off his body swiftly to hold himself. He pumps once, twice, three times before lining up to your entrance and slipping in.

Sylus is big. You knew that from before this. He doesn’t often wear underwear, and he damn sure does not care about propriety, taking showers with the door open and choosing to air dry on your bed. You’ve complained about it before to him, but he doesn’t so much care, amused every time you bring it up. But it still doesn’t prepare you for the burn of him. He’s bigger than his preparation to slide his way home. Despite this, you like it. You like the way he stretches you out and how he groans softly into your ear.

“Fuck,” he pants, forehead pressed against yours. It’s intimate, the way he’s hiked your legs up to your chest and pressed into you. He gives you no space to shy away, it’s all intensity and a severity to his gaze that you can feel the way your heart unfurls in your chest under the slow undulations of his hips. He pulls back before thrusting forward, a sharp clap of skin that has your breath catch in your throat. You want to close your eyes but can’t, caught in his heated gaze. Sylus’ pupils are blown out so much that the red of his iris are slivers when you look at him again.

His next thrust is hard, your thighs burning as he holds the pressed up against your chest but wide enough to make room for the width of his waist. It’s audible, the slap of him, the sounds of him moving back and forth. The two of you share a breath and he hums softly into your mouth. Each time he pushes deeper into you, you groan into his mouth. “Fuck baby, that’s it.”

You whine out his name, clenching around him as he fucks into you like he’s trying to get your pregnant. You say as much and his hips stutter for a moment as he drags his gaze back up to you.

“What?”

“A-are you trying to get me pregnant?” You repeat and he blinks in surprise before a smile crawls to his lips. He loses some of the intensity, but his eyes narrow into tight slits as he looks at you.

“Yes.” The word is said easily, simply and you clench around him when he says as much. “Fuck, you liked that didn’t you?” If you could blush you would, but you don’t, averting your gaze. “Mm, no baby, look at me.” You don’t. “Look at me.” The words are repeated sternly and you drag your gaze back to him as he tucks a braid behind your ear gently. “Is that what you want? You want me to put a baby in you?” It is absolutely obscene, the sudden tenderness he seems to display with your legs in the air. But he groans as your walls flutter around him and you nod shyly. “Fuck, okay.” He nods, moving his hand from your thigh to press into your stomach. “Okay,” he repeats. This time when he thrusts it’s with even more of a purpose, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

His mouth tips to the side, a soft smile as he presses a kiss to your hairline, sweat and all. You moan as he drags his lips down lower and lower until they press against your shoulder. “You gonna cum?” You nod as his thrusts get harder but no less intense. His hand travels down, pressing his thumb on the hood of your clit to push you closer and closer. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs, the closer and closer you get.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Sylus I’m gonna–”

It doesn’t wash over you, it slams into you, thighs tensing as you do so. He fucks you through it, biting down suddenly as he cums inside of you. Your vision whites out, pain and pleasure coursing through your veins. It’s quiet for a minute as the two of you lay there, sweaty and sexed out on the couch. He pulls his teeth out gently, kissing the wound as he does so before nuzzling into your neck. Your heart stops racing, your breath settles just as Sylus lifts his head up to kiss you.

You shouldn’t have fucked him, you know this. But you also know that he’s more than willing to get what he wants and he wants you. It’s telling with the way his tail curls around your thighs as your legs drop to sit along his thighs.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, kissing you soundly. “My pretty girl.” Your laugh is disbelieving, but happy as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Moments later, Sylus slides out of you, standing up. He scoops you up, tossing your legs over his forearms as he makes his way to your room.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

He smiles, something devious in the look he gives you. “I told you, I’m gonna put a baby in you.”

#writing #writing ; lads #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace imagine #sylus x reader #sylus smut #lads smut #I’ve been working on this since February lmfao #my god #in my head the reader is BLACK #but honestly I don’t actually give a shit if you read her as black #lads x reader #lads imagine #rated: I do not write pwp though I wish I could

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abbotfan · 2 days ago

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dad!jack thoughts

jack abbot would be a great dad no matter what but i love the idea of him with a lil freckled redhead 5 year old in a princess dress full of tulle following him everywhere as he runs errands.

her name would be something like olivia but she goes by ollie (his ollie-pop ... my heart) and she makes him paint her nails and she's definitely paint his too. she'd love to decorate his (old / less expensive) prosthetic and the cane he used around the house with princess stickers and pink paint.

i feel like as she enters her teen years, her admiration of him would make her more tomboy-ish (does this make sense? bc i definitely had this phase #daddysgirl) and he'd still treat her like a princess and she'd be like "dad!!! stop!!!!!" (/lovingly). she'd dye fun streaks into her hair and listen to his favorite bands that are definitely old as shit now but somehow still touring. she'd ask him if he knew one of their deep cuts and he'd tell her he used to take midnight drives listening to it or something and she'd realize her dad is still so cool all these years later.

jack would frequently ask things like "do you still like [insert boy band here]?" KNOWING FULL WELL she doesn't anymore and that she thinks they're childish now, but he just wanted to mess with her... and it worked because she definitely would be so fake annoyed.

and GOD he'd try so hard to like her first boyfriend but no one is good enough for his lil ollie, especially not some emo teen boy. he'd give the guy such a hard time but he'd eventually loosen up 😭 a little

i have more ideas but long story short? someone needs to write this asap.

#this was not supposed to be this long #the pitt #jack abbot #queue #q

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thelittleladysworld · 2 days ago

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Simon Riley.

♡ Fluff ♡

Simon Riley who doesn’t like a chat, and no one really started one with him. He was an abundance of sorrowful grunts and greetings, and only giving his expert opinion at the exact right time.

Simon Riley who would walk into a bar with the Task Force after a successful mission, in the middle of London, and order “Beer.” He’s deep voice would command no more questions, and the bartender would get him whatever was easiest to pour. He never complained.

Simon Riley who doesn’t stand for his rookies questions, or their silly nature, or the fact that they were rookies. He doesn’t understand that he was once a rookie too, but he makes them work twice as hard, just like he did.

Simon Riley who when he meets the new communications director, to replace Kate Laswell when her wife goes into labour, is stunned. He doesn’t realise how long it’s been since he’s taken notice into one’s appearance until that very moment.

Simon Riley who is taken aback by your beautiful smile that just radiates happiness. He has to stop what’s he doing for a split second to regain his composure after Price introduces the two of you.

Simon Riley who glared at Price after you turned around because he was giving him a knowing smirk.

Simon Riley who finds excuses to walk past the communications room, just to see you tying up your hair, or sipping your tea.

Simon Riley, who after a full month of listening to your directions in the comms, seeing you around base, and watching you laugh with the task force in the common room, he finally decides to talk to you.

Simon Riley, who comes up to your desk, sits down in front of you, and just awkwardly waves.

Simon Riley who looks at your curious face and falls in love with you.

Simon Riley who nods at you and just sits there. Never the first to speak, and never the last.

Simon Riley who smiles as you laugh softly and ask, “What’s up, Ghost?”

Simon Riley who recoils at the words falling from your mouth. He likes being Ghost, definitely, it’s his safe space. What he doesn’t like is that you don’t know him as Simon, and that annoys him.

Simon Riley who, as gently as he can, says, “Simon, love. Names’ Simon.”

Simon Riley who watches you nod, wishing he could tuck your hair behind your ear because it keeps bothering you. “I know, but I didn’t want to overstep. I’ve read your extensive file.”

Simon Riley who is now just now realising that you know more about him than he does you.

Simon Riley who makes you tea every morning until you say, “I love it.”

Simon Riley who pays attention to your favourite things so he can buy flowers for you when the time comes.

Simon Riley who writes little notes for you at night, and leaves them on your desk. Something like, “Have a good day, shortie. -Si.” His handwriting is almost just completely chicken scratch.

Simon Riley who slowly and quietly makes you fall in love with him.

Simon Riley who is surprised when he finds you on the roof of the base, taking in the stars.

Simon Riley who walks up, leans on the railing with you, savouring this quiet moment, as he does every time he’s around you.

Simon Riley who is surprised when you grab his hand and start tracing his scars on his knuckle. And he’s even more surprised with the fact that he doesn’t pull away.

Simon Riley who trusts you completely.

Simon Riley who, to his friends, is known to be a hard ass. But with you, he’s less than that. He’s just a man, who loves a woman, and will continue to do that.

Simon Riley who, that very same night when you held his hand, he pulled you into a kiss. You were surprised at how soft he was being, and the fact that he even asked before he kissed you, a simple, “Can I?” was all it took.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #y/n #simon riley #john price #john soap mactavish #soap cod #romance #kyle gaz garrick #task force 141 #task force x reader #tf 141 x reader #cod

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naomi-nana · 2 days ago

Text

✎ᝰ. just a little longer . twisted wonderland pt. 2

in which you take extra classes to skip grades so you can graduate with them, but you ended up getting sick instead. how would they react?

featuring : vice housewardens + ruggie bucchi

cw : gn!reader, may be ooc(idk how to write for jamil and rook ...), hurt/comfort angst, bad french for rook lmao

a/n : i genuinely enjoyed writing for the housewardens req, so i did a second part!! i hope u all will enjoy this :3

TREY CLOVER

almost had a heart attack

when ace and deuce came into heartslabyul with a very-sick-looking-you leaning on to their shoulders, trey was (understandably) shocked at whatever happened. he already thought of the worst-case scenario before you get to open your mouth.

though when you finally tell him what you've been up to, he immediately goes dad mode. he would take you to his bed for you to lay down and then give you some leftover food from the heartslabyul fridge. (would cook more, but he was more worried about you than the fact that those were leftovers)

"name, i understand if you want to graduate with me, and i respect that. but, just ... don't push yourself too much. if you get this sick every time you take those extra classes, then i'm gonna be the one that gets lonely once i graduate."

stays by your side until you actually fall asleep. then, he'll look at your sleeping face with eyes full of concern and love for you while also caressing your hand with his. "please don't do this ever again."

anyways he was very concerned and would 100% check on you all the time after that happened to make sure you're healthy.

RUGGIE BUCCHI

growing up in a different surroundings compared to everyone else, ruggie is not used to people being genuinely kind towards him. he was shocked enough that you accepted his confession back then, and now you're saying you were secretly taking extra classes just to graduate with him?

"huh? why go that far just for me anyway? you're not expecting me to give you something back, right?" he's confused, touched, and also concerned at the fact that you get sick right after all of those classes.

he'll constantly check on you every time and occasionally ask if you already ate or not. he would also share his lunch with you. "here, i got the limited tuna sandwich today. you can half a little of it so you don't starve to death while trying to catch up to me, shishishi!"

he gives you the bigger half. it's not usual for ruggie to be so concerned towards someone(other than leona, and even if he does, it's only for the reward that comes afterwards), let alone sharing a meal with someone else. even he was confused about why he did that.

"just so ya know, this is only because i don't want you bawling your eyes out when i graduate first. er, no, i'm not getting concerned or anythin'. you're just imagining that."

JADE LEECH

he's amused at the thought of someone so willingly taking extra classes just to graduate with him. when you walk in mostro lounge looking like you had walked out from the worst war in humanity ever in the middle of his shift, jade paused whatever he was doing.

he immediately shoves his tray full of empty plates to floyd(who, even though he was annoyed, still takes over jade's job because he understood that his brother has priorities). jade straight up carries you to his dorm room and gently places you on top of the bed.

"name, what happened?" he asks calmly, putting his cold hands on your forehead to check your temperature. after you tell him why you're doing all this, jade chuckles, but then his face suddenly turns serious it almost makes you scared.

"i understand. but i would much prefer it if you told me about such things beforehand. then, we can work on a solution together. you don't have to get sick simply because you want to spend more time with me, my dear."

all in all, he'd be very concerned and ends up acting very carefully around you so you won't feel even more stressed.

JAMIL VIPER

are u trying to get him straight into the hospital? this man is stressed enough with taking care of kalim all the time, and now you're getting sick because of all those extra classes?

jamil probably knows from day one already somehow and would quickly put a stop on it before anything happens. yet when he sees how determined you are, he can't help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he's never seen anyone risking their own health just because they want to stay with him.

"seriously, you don't need to do that. stop taking those extra classes before you collapse and get sent to the infirmary." he'd say sternly. but after he got you to sleep in bed and stop thinking about those classes again, he'll drop the act.

he feels guilty, so guilty for being the reason for you getting sick. he'll be so protective of you the next day and would do anything so you'll forget about whatever you want to do before.

"sigh, you and kalim are gonna be the death of me, i swear ..."

if you insist on taking those extra classes, expect to see him in your next class.

ROOK HUNT

he knows u don't really have to tell him anything

"oh, my ... marveillux! trickster, you continue to surprise me with your whims. you put your health on the line only to graduate with me? truly, your love knows no bounds! is this what people call true love? c'est magnifique! i'm touched by the very beauty of love!" as you can probably tell, he's very touched even if he knew about it days ago.

though when you start to walk a little wobbly, he'd stop his rambling and would carry you bridal style to pomefiore. he's concerned that you got sick just because you don't want him to leave you alone in this school. he'll lay you down gently on his bed and would also brew some jasmine tea for you.

"mon amour, stay in this bed and drink this tea, will you? jasmine tea has a lot of benefits that would be great to boost your immunity. i'm sure you will feel better in no time." he smiles, helping you sit up while serving you the cup of tea and a few snacks on the side.

if you drink the tea, he’ll sit by the bed, eyes brimming with a quiet, tender love. rook may talk a lot—but in the hush between heartbeats, his silence says more. in stillness, his love becomes a sacred thing, deeper than any vow he could ever utter.

"fais de beaux rêves, trickster. i shall stay here, waiting by your side."

LILIA VANROUGE

on your way to another one of your class, you were suddenly stopped by your beloved little bat, hanging upside down from the ceiling. "oh my god!" you shrieked, making him cackle. "khehehe, your reactions amuse me as always, dearie!"

he'd stop laughing when he saw all those books in your hands, though. when he notices your shaky breathing, he jumps down from the ceiling and gets scarily serious for a moment while checking your temperature.

"oh, my. your forehead is very hot. what have you been up to, love?" the moment you tell him about those extra classes, lilia goes dad mode (2) and takes you straight into his room using a teleportation spell.

he would then ask silver and sebek to brew some tea for you because he's currently too occupied to do that himself(thank god). he won't stay by your bed, he will join you in the bed and cuddle with you until you feel better.

if you tell him to get off because you don't want him to get sick too, he will just laugh. "khehehe, you must underestimate me if you think i will get sick by hugging my beloved. you need not worry, i have great immunity. but, i don't want you to continue taking those extra classes again, okay? you're going to make little old me sad if you continue doing that."

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

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reissancesstuff · 2 days ago

Note

hi, is okay to ask for a reverse harem bonten x reader, where she is the normal assistant and the guys fall for her and super protective?

A/N: YES absolutely omg 😭😭 your request gave me LIFE. I had so much fun writing this—thank you for sending it in!! The Bonten boys are down bad for their assistant and it only gets more chaotic from here 👀💗 hope you enjoy!!

“Just the Assistant (Yeah, Right)”

Summary: You’re the assistant. That’s it. That’s all you’re supposed to be. But to Bonten? You’re everything—and they’ll kill anyone who tries to mess with you.

You’d been working for Bonten for six months. Quiet. Efficient. Knew how to carry three coffees in one hand and whisper a full meeting agenda into Mikey’s ear without blinking.

To you, it was just a job.

To them?

You were a threat to their sanity.

---

“She’s too soft for this world,” Sanzu said one night, watching you help Rindou organize files.

“She remembered I like chamomile.” Ran added, eyes glazed with something dreamy and dangerous.

“She said my tie was crooked and fixed it,” Koko muttered under his breath like it was a confession.

“She’s literally doing her job,” Kakucho replied, annoyed. And yet, ten minutes later, he offered you his jacket because you shivered once.

---

You were the sun in the middle of their bloodstained galaxy.

Mikey didn’t say much about you. Not out loud. But everyone noticed how his hand would twitch when another man spoke to you too long. Or how your name was the only one he said without sounding dead inside.

---

One afternoon, a visiting gang member smirked too wide when you poured tea.

“Pretty thing,” he said.

“Back off,” you replied, polite but firm.

Then suddenly—his chair tipped, and his face met the table. You blinked.

Ran cracked his knuckles. “Whoops.”

Sanzu laughed a little too loudly. “She did say back off.”

---

By month seven, you started noticing things. Like the way none of them let you walk alone. Or how Rindou waited outside your apartment building “just in case.” Or how Mikey once ghosted a whole meeting because you had a paper cut.

You thought you were imagining it.

Until Koko cornered you in the hallway.

“You’re not just our assistant,” he said, eyes sharp. “You’re… ours.”

---

You should’ve been afraid.

But when Sanzu burst in with a bullet wound and still smiled when you patched him up...

When Mikey said nothing but stared at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the earth...

When the others waited outside your building in the rain, because some gang idiot muttered your name on the street…

You realized something.

You were never “just” the assistant.

Not to them.

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synity · 16 hours ago

Note

Can you please write Junhui picking up Y/N after a party because she was near to take the bus and he didn’t want

YOU'RE SAFE IN MY ARMS

(Wen Junhui X FemReader)

*angst, emotional healing, slice of life, Romance*

We didn’t mean to fight.

But sometimes, love isn’t about meaning to.

It’s about pressure. Timing. Miscommunication. And tonight, it all snapped.

“I’m not asking for much, Jun!” I shouted, pacing our apartment floor. “I just want you to listen. Actually listen. Not nod along while thinking about your next schedule.”

Junhui stood across the room, arms folded tightly over his chest. His jaw was clenched. He was trying to stay calm but I knew him too well.

“I am listening, Y/N,” he said, voice low. “But it’s always something lately. What do you want me to say? That I can quit everything and stay home all day?”

“That’s not what I said,” I snapped. “But you never have time anymore. You’re always tired. Or busy. Or distracted.”

He looked away, letting out a heavy breath. “I can’t win with you lately.”

That hurt. That hurt more than anything.

I went silent. He didn’t follow up.

And that silence? It felt like a wall. Like a door he wasn’t opening. Like something in his eyes had pulled back.

“I’m going out,” I said after a moment, my voice hollow. “I’m not going to stay here and fight with you all night.”

He didn’t stop me. Just stayed quiet.

That made it worse.

At the party.

My best friend tried her best to distract me. The music was loud, people danced freely, the lights shimmered, and for a while, it worked. We laughed, sipped on something light, and I even managed a smile.

But when the night slowed, I felt it again. That tight ache in my chest.

I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to see him. Not yet. I wasn’t ready to pretend it didn’t hurt that he didn’t chase after me when I left.

I was scrolling through my phone, ignoring texts, when I glanced up and saw it was nearing midnight. I needed to get home, but I didn’t want to trouble my friend and definitely not him.

So I walked to the bus stop near the club.

I knew he’d hate this.

Jun never liked me walking alone at night, let alone taking public transportation in the city. But tonight, I didn’t care. I was still mad. Still hurting.

That’s when I heard it.

My name.

I turned, confused.

A familiar car slowed down at the curb. The passenger window rolled down, and there he was Wen Junhui, leaning over from the driver’s seat, looking as annoyed and worried as he looked relieved.

“Get in.”

I blinked. “What are you—”

“Get in the car, Y/N.”

I hesitated. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

“I know,” he said, gaze steady. “That’s why I’m here.”

Something cracked in me right then.

I walked over slowly and slid into the passenger seat. He didn’t drive yet. Just sat there with his hands on the wheel, staring out the windshield.

“I saw your location,” he said after a moment. “When I realized you were near the bus stop, I…” He let out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t let you take the bus. Not at night. Not when you’re mad at me.”

“I was fine,” I mumbled.

“You could’ve been,” he said, finally looking at me. “But what if you weren’t?”

I stayed quiet.

“I may piss you off, Y/N. And I’ll probably keep doing that sometimes. But I’ll never let you be out here like this alone. Not when I’m breathing.”

His voice wasn’t angry. It was quiet. Determined.

I looked down at my hands.

“I didn’t want to see you,” I admitted. “I didn’t want to forgive you yet.”

“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness,” he said gently. “I came here to make sure you got home safe.”

That did it.

I felt tears sting at the corners of my eyes.

“Why didn’t you stop me earlier?” I whispered.

“Because I thought you needed space. And maybe I needed it too,” he said, voice rough. “But I watched that dot on the map move and I panicked. I’ll let you leave when you need to cool down. But I won’t let you go without making sure you’re safe. Never.”

We sat in silence for a moment.

Then I said it, barely audible: “I hate that you know me so well.”

He smiled a little. “I love that I know you that well.”

I turned to him. “I’m still mad.”

“Me too.”

“But I’m glad you came.”

His hand reached for mine in the dark. Warm. Solid. Real.

“I’ll always come, Y/N,” he whispered. “Even when you're mad. Especially then.”

I nodded and squeezed his fingers.

And in that quiet car, under the orange glow of the streetlight, we drove home. Not speaking much. But sometimes, love is in the showing up.

Not the perfect words.

But the silent promises.

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gumilac · 1 day ago

Text

pairings. barista megumi × gn! student council reader

genre. barista/cafe and college au, fushiguro megumi’s POV

word count. 3.2k

aki's notes. yes, a megumi fic, of course it is. it's all i write, why are you surprised? 🤨 ALL JOKES ASIDE @l1v1ngzomb1e your wish is my command for a college megumi au, so here you go 😌 eeee!!! i hope you'll like it + depending on how this fic does, i might consider making it a series—maybe a potential, reader POV??? 👀 let me know! mwa

“the university of tokyo…” he mutters, before looking down at the brochure he’s holding.

deep breaths. a new school means new friends—and new friends means… talking to people.

megumi lets out a sigh, finding it seemingly hard to understand why he couldn’t just stay at tokyo jujustu high. at least there, everyone knew to stay out of his way. but in a new school, he had to—one, stay out of trouble for tsumiki. and two, find a way to make people “fear” him without using force.

yet, number two seems to be working already with how everyone steps aside as he walks down the hallway towards the student’s affair office. his bag strap hangs on one shoulder, slipping with every stride he takes, making megumi reposition it so often that he ultimately decides to just hold it in place.

as he reaches the office, he uses the hand that currently holds the brochure to open the door, slightly crumpling the paper from the action. megumi takes one deep breath and exhales for three; before finally letting the door behind him close.

“hey!” a voice greets and from where he stands, and it only takes about two strides for him to reach the table where a student was sitting at. what people don’t know about him is that it takes a lot for megumi to seem as composed as he is—consciously using one step to gather up the courage to say:

“hi,” the second step, another deep breath. and megumi successfully gets his message across, “i’m here to pass my forms?”

the student stands up and smiles, reaching out a hand to take them, “oh! okay. can i have a look, please?”

to which megumi obeys, finally ridding the burden of these papers off of his chest. as he passes them over to the student, he is highly aware of his posture, keeping it straight as much as possible. a minute passes, then three and it makes him wonder…

did he fill these out right?

after five scrutinizing minutes, the student finally looked up. settling the papers nicely in their necessary bins for better organization.

“you’re new here?”

“yeah,” and megumi nods, repositioning the falling bag strap again. at his response, the student smiles warmly and he finds it so contagious.

“oh, that’s great! welcome to the university of tokyo,” megumi starts to shift on his feet and manages to give back a small smile, albeit forced.

“i’m the student government president, from class 4. but you can just call me by my name. no need for formalities.”

student government president from class 4, huh? seems like he’ll have no choice but to remember your name…

classmate.

he bows a little, standing up to his full height as he introduces himself, “fushiguro megumi.”

you’re still smiling and he wonders, how does one do that? he can’t even hold a proper conversation, let alone smile for a long time—your voice cuts him from his trail of thought, capturing his attention.

“i tend to facilitate newcomers’ information and i can’t help but notice that you’re here on a scholarship grant?” you inquire, a curious look in your face. “you’re a smart guy!”

with your remark, megumi fights the urge to roll his eyes because he always hears this phrase, to the point that it gets irritating. he wants to be known for more than his intelligence but, how?

how, when he instantly contradicts himself by being introverted?

but, for some reason unbeknownst to him, you—you were able to make his heart skip a tiny beat. it was like you were almost able to bring back the euphoria of him being called the “smart guy.”

well, almost but not quite. it is still a bit annoying.

“yeah,” he forces a smile, running a hand through his hair, “it’s just my sister and i. so, i need all the financial help i can get.”

well— there goes keeping a low profile.

he internally chastises himself, ready to end this conversation. praying that you won’t pry even deeper. because this whole, transferring to a new school and passing of forms has already taken a toll on his social battery and he wants out.

“oh! i didn’t know…” you softly say.

maybe for another day it would be fine, but he really can’t handle long conversations. it’s too overwhelming that his internal monologue goes haywire.

don’t ask. don’t ask. don’t as—

“well, if you ever need anything i’m here.”

thank god.

with that megumi presses his lips in a thin line, forgetting the decency to say thank you and opts to bow his head instead. turning to walk out the doors of the office, megumi hastens his steps and gets to his first class.

~; 5 months later

when he said keep a low profile, he didn’t mean being: top 1 in his class and the representative of class 4 at interschool events.

he seriously just had to be smart, did he?

well, he was always an excellent student, even when he was at tokyo jujutsu high. it was just because he got into so much trouble that he stood out in an intimidating way, that no one even dared to mention his name. but here, since he was naturally adept at academics, he finds himself—much to his dismay—in quiz bees, math leagues and writing contests. to the point that everything and anything acad-related in between.

he. was. there.

yet, interestingly. you were also there where he was. but he seriously can’t think any of it, because before he came around, you were always the top student in class 4. although, since he saw you so often, he found himself subconsciously? he honestly doesn’t know at this point—but he would find himself in areas where he knew he’d find you on campus. and in the rare events that you’d meet his eyes, megumi would give you a small smile.

during interschool events he’d find a way to watch you compete after he’s done with his. always consistent with the way he’s there to applaud for you whether you make it or not.

and it’s weird.

not because he's a stalker, no. but because new things, experiences and feelings give him the creeps. and yet, he finds himself drawn to go deeper than he already is in this little rabbit hole of distantly being there for all your achievements. and as a logical, rational person who always uses his brain for everything, he rarely gets caught in a tangled web of fuzzy feelings—though this one. this one feels different.

ring. ring.

“hi. welcome to—” he looks up and stops wiping the counter mid-way. he feels giddy? is that the right term for the way his heart is beating? or is it bordering on arrhythmi—

“fushiguro, hi!” your voice catches him before he falls into a spiral. seriously, you just knew how to. “you work here?”

he neatly folds the towel he was using and sets it aside, all the while maintaining eye contact with you, “yeah, i started last week.”

“really?” scanning the menu board, megumi watches you intently, patiently waiting for you to pick a drink he’ll whip up, “i always see you around … it’s nice.”

you finally look at him again smiling and it takes everything in him not to falter from the way you’re looking at him.

“ahh … yeah?” he softly laughs, “i mean we are classmates and class 4 representatives.”

“haha, yeah! makes sense…” he starts to rest his hand on the register, shifting his weight on one foot. the cafe’s empty and he’s kind of glad. glad that he can stare at you unabashedly without the pressure of having to tend to customers. after a few more minutes you speak up again, “hmm, can i just have a latte?”

megumi nods and turns around to start prepping what he needs for your drink. he moves swiftly but deliberately. fully aware that you’re watching him and it makes things harder. because the more conscious he is, he is more likely to make mistakes and when he thinks about making a mistake, he has to think harder to make the drin— well, instead of unconsciously making drinks, megumi's consciously repeating a mantra in his head.

do not mess up. do not mess up. do not mess u—

“last week, huh?”

and, you’ve done it again.

he relaxes. visibly? he’s not sure. but he’s thankful that the nerves have now left his body just from you saying those three words.

“mhm,” is all he manages as he finally looks at you; finished drink in hand. megumi realizes that he’s going a little non-verbal and softly coughs, chastising himself.

yeah, megumi. cough out the nerves. great going.

“last week. i started last week,” he hands you the finished drink in hand and he rings it up on the register… remembering that he should have done that before he made your drink.

c’mon, megumi get it together.

“your total is 250 yen,” he says, aware of the blush that dares to place itself on his cheeks, but he ignores it—he can say it's from the cold for all he cares. but, what he does care about, is the way you smiled widely at the little latte art he did.

he made a heart. hoping it’ll reach you the right way.

“aww, a heart!” you tease, “for me?” handing over your payment, megumi tenses up; even more so than before. his hands find themselves in the pocket of his apron, hiding the way it shakes to the best of his abilities.

“it’s the only thing i can do right now.”

that’s a lie—he’s mastered almost all the common latte arts the minute he worked here.

“that’s so cute,” your eyes meet with his and he smiles. like actually smiles. not that half-assed, i’m just being nice, forced smile, but a genuine smile that came from his heart.

and things rarely come from his heart.

smiling up at him, you take the drink and wave goodbye, “thanks again, fushiguro.”

for a phrase he constantly says to all customers, it holds no meaning. but this time, he found himself wanting you to actually, “come back again.”

and with that, he manages to give you a small wave—watching as your figure moves further and further away from him.

~; 1 year later

megumi was only able to do one of the things he swore when he transferred here. and that’s staying out of trouble for tsumiki. number two? well, let’s just say everyone seemed to like him. as he enters the classroom, he nicely acknowledges those who waved him over, but megumi just continues to walk over to where you were seated.

math test results were released yesterday and he knows it wasn’t your best performance. seated by the window, your head was propped up by your hand, a distant look in your eyes. as megumi places his bag down at his assigned seat, the one in front of you, he carefully places your regular order of a latte on top of your desk. just the way you like it.

he sits on the chair sideways and with his arm resting on the backrest, he gently taps your desk; effectively pulling you out from your daze. megumi nods over at the latte he brought and you look at the drink for a few seconds, before looking at him with the cutest, poutiest frown ever.

“fushiguro,” you’re touched, that much he knows with the way you’ve drawn out his name, “how’d you know?”

“it’s all you order,” he says, managing to make you laugh. and at the sound of it, megumi feels his heart feel funny again—he gives you a comforting smile and a small, “cheer up.”

you grab the drink with both your hands and you furrow your brows, a tender look on your face, yet there are still remnants of sorrow. and megumi— well, megumi isn’t the best person to talk to when it comes to providing solace because emotions make him uncomfortable sometimes. so, he does the next best thing he can offer, which is logic.

“i’ll tutor you later, okay?” he suggests, second-guessing himself whether or not he’s doing this right. but he tries, “come by the cafe.”

you’re quiet, still looking at the drink, and he wonders if he messed up. so, he sits there uncomfortably, shifting in his seat; waiting for any recognition you’d provide to his “logical” solution.

maybe that isn’t what you need, he thinks.

for megumi, the silence feels like eternity, but he knows it really only took you about a few seconds to finally respond in the smallest voice.

“okay… thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” he smiles, doing the best he can to ease your mind off the test result. “drink up. you’ll feel better.”

~; 5:30pm, at the cafe.

“okay, when looking for a point in a hyperbola,” tapping his pen at his notes, “what do we need to use?”

“the standard formula of a hyperbola?” the two of you have been at it for a good hour and a half, and he’s really impressed with how fast you’re able to pick up concepts.

“good job,” he says, following up with another question, “but how do you know if it’s a vertical one?”

you furrow your brows and he watches the way you nibble at your bottom lip, making his heart rate pick up. and as if that view wasn’t enough, the two of you are secluded, seated at the furthest corner of the cafe, sharing a small table. the close proximity and the subtle brushes of your arms makes his breath hitch, yet he perseveres.

as you contemplate, megumi hooks a finger up to his collar and pulls on it a bit, hoping it’ll release some tension in his body right now. but really, it doesn’t help, so he’s just thankful that you’re too preoccupied and adjusts the way he was seated instead—resting both of his arms on the table, with sleeves rolled up, he slightly leans forward.

“when the traverse axis is vertical…”

okay, correct.

“and…” you pause and he watches as your face slowly remembers what he taught you, “and when– when–!”

almost there.

“when the y-term is positive and comes first in the equation!”

there you go. megumi smiles and nods his head, genuinely proud that you’ve finally got it. you squeal and everything seems to happen so fast because he said great job and suddenly— you were gone?

what?

so, he backtracks.

“great job,” he says in a pleased tone and you look up at him, squealing, noses almost brushing with the way he’s leaning forward. he then softly laughs and is surprised at the sudden attack of a hug from you. but he didn’t have time to reciprocate the action.

because by the time he decides to place a hand at the small of your back, your hands fly to cup his cheeks—pulling him in for a kiss.

you pulled him in for a kiss.

oh.

megumi sits there dumbfounded, staring at the door that’s now swaying back and forth from the impact of your escape and it takes him a good few minutes before he realizes that you left all your stuff.

your bag, your notebook, your pens—everything.

~; one week later.

it has now been one week since the incident—though he wouldn’t really call it something negative. the only downside is that you have constantly been avoiding him.

you weren’t very good at it.

because he had to watch you bump into a wall and then a student for turning so quickly when you saw him walking towards you. while avoiding him in school is fine, what he doesn’t like is that you haven’t been to the cafe—and you were there almost everyday, ordering a drink or not.

does it make him upset? yes, he won’t deny it. so when he hears the bells of the cafe door ringing, and looks up to see you standing there? he’s reeling in all his happiness.

“hey,” he softly calls out, a small lopsided smile on his face. he watches as you take a step, then another, and another, before finally reaching the counter. and he finds it so nostalgic—reminding him of the time that he also took calculated steps when he approached you back then at the student’s affairs office.

“hi,” your voice is soft, almost like a whisper; if he hadn’t been waiting for this moment, he would’ve missed it, but he’s wanted for so long to hear your voice again that megumi smiles a bit bigger, relishing the way your cheeks look flushed.

it’s cute.

“latte?” he asks and you meekly nod. but, before he turns over to make your drink, he reaches down the counter and pulls out your bag—completely aware that your eyes shoot wide open. it takes a lot in him not to laugh at you during this moment and just opts to gently place it in front of you. as he sets it down, his hands barely have pulled away when you quickly snatched it off the counter. your reaction makes him let out a little snort before turning around to make your drink.

megumi does it in record time and as he looks back at you to hand it over, your payment is already placed nicely on the counter. once he rings it up on the register, he looks at you expectantly. it’s silent for a few minutes before realizing that he’s missed something.

"ah, right," he shuffles awkwardly, turning his back to you to grab tissues and—"here you go."

“thank you,” you fidget with the napkins he handed over and he watches as a myriad of emotions flow over your face. when you finally looked up at him, he perks up.

“thanks for my stuff and my coffee…” you pause, closing your eyes, “look, i’m sorry about last week—”

before you could react, megumi leans over the counter to give you a chaste kiss. letting his lips linger on yours for a few moments and he smiles when you finally reciprocate. as your mouth moves with his, it gives megumi the courage to keep going.

hoping that you’ll finally get that the feeling was mutual all along.

he’d continue to kiss you but, for workplace etiquette, he has to pull away. and so he does. he pulls away just enough for your noses to still be touching. as he slowly opens his eyes, they meet yours and he feels drunk on the feeling—the high he got from your lips on his.

“don’t be,” he whispers, breaking whatever tension was holding you two back and hoping that this will be enough to reassure you. “come by again everyday, yeah?”

he subconsciously licks his lips and megumi watches as your resolve falters.

“yeah…“ you finally managed to say and he smiles, sneaking in one more kiss.

“and stop avoiding me, okay?”

you nod but he isn’t satisfied, he needs to hear your voice—that and because he enjoys watching the confident student government president lose the ability to speak in front of him. so, one more kiss and to hell with it if his boss sees.

“okay?” he teases.

“okay…” you whisper, cupping your face with your hands; he smiles, finally satisfied. you furrow your brows at him, biting back a smile to which you fail miserably. megumi loves the way it brightens up his day as he watches your smile get bigger.

you both quietly laugh at the whole ordeal and megumi brushes his nose against yours before finally pulling away to stand up to his full height. grabbing your drink, he watches you walk towards a table—taking a seat, you scrunch up your nose when you look at him and he understands.

i’ll be here until your shift is over.

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