#like they could have made him cocky and arrogant but instead hes just confident in himself and silly

[reverentwormpriest]

bitches mad he can experience childhood whimsy and delight. CEO of moisturized and in my lane. "my gf is mad at me I hope I die" personified

[mononijikayu]

supersonic — gojo satoru.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?” You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?” He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?” “......I’m sorry, what?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Canon Convergence;

Warning/s: General Rating, SFW, Romance, Fluff, Humour, Comfort/No Hurt, Strangers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Sorcerer! Reader, Tsundere! Reader, Feelings, Romantic Confession, Getting Together, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Happy Ending, Gojo Satoru Loves Reader But Reader Doesn't Know How to React;

Words: 8k words.

Note: the bubble words is gojo saying you shouldn't fall hard for him!!! i didn't think this would be longer than 5k but I just??? i swear someone has to tell me not to make stuff longer because i feel bad that its way too long and people just suffer my yapping </3 anyway, i love you all!!! thank you so much for reading once again <3

masterlist

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YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOU HAVE GOOD MEMORY. You often boasted to Atsuya about your memory, especially during exam season or when the two of you had to write detailed reports after every mission. It was a point of pride—being able to recall every detail with sharp accuracy, a skill that set you apart.

But lately, that once-reliable memory has been betraying you, twisting itself into something both frustrating and bittersweet. Because now, instead of recalling battle strategies or obscure curses, you find yourself remembering everything about him. Gojo Satoru.

No matter how much you try to push the memories away, they persist, etched into your mind like an indelible mark. It’s infuriating because he’s the last person you want to think about. Yet, there he is, popping into your thoughts when you least expect it, with that smug grin and irritatingly carefree attitude.

You can’t forget that day during the Sister School Goodwill Event in your first year. It’s impossible. That was the first time you met Gojo Satoru, and even now, the memory of it lingers like a stubborn shadow. He was everything you couldn’t stand—arrogant, always grinning like he knew something you didn’t, and constantly cracking jokes that got under your skin. The moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was in trouble.

He’d waltzed into the event with an air of confidence that bordered on cocky, his white hair catching the sunlight as if to announce his presence to the world. You remember the way his sunglasses glinted as he surveyed the arena, looking completely at ease, like he owned the place.

And maybe, in a way, he did—after all, his reputation had preceded him. The strongest sorcerer of his generation, a prodigy unlike any other. Everyone was talking about him, and you had been curious, but when you finally met him, that curiosity quickly morphed into annoyance.

It wasn’t just his arrogance; it was the way he seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to push your buttons, like he had a map of your every weakness. From the moment he opened his mouth, you knew he was trouble.

He didn’t even bother with formalities, didn’t extend his hand or offer a respectful bow like any normal person might when meeting someone new. No, Gojo Satoru made his grand entrance with all the subtlety of a peacock in full display.

“Hey there, I’m Gojo Satoru. Don't fall in love with me too much, okay?” he said, his tone so light and casual it was as if he was talking about the weather. 

And then came that wink—oh, that infuriating wink. It was the kind of wink that dripped with self-assurance, as if he’d already decided that the world, including you, was his playground. The kind that made your blood pressure spike and your temper flare in an instant.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you glared at him, eyes narrowing into a scowl that you hoped would convey just how unimpressed you were. But if you expected him to back down, to maybe realize that he’d crossed a line, you were sorely mistaken. Gojo didn’t just take your scowl in stride—he laughed, a sound that was as easy and carefree as everything else about him. 

The laughter caught you off guard. It wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t exactly kind either. It was the kind of laugh that made it clear he was enjoying this, enjoying you. It was like he’d found a new toy to play with, and your irritation only made it more fun for him.

“Aw, come on, don’t look at me like that.” he’d said, still chuckling. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. We’re supposed to be having fun with this, right? No need to be so serious.”

But you were serious—deadly so. This wasn’t some lighthearted game to you; it was a competition, a test of skills and strength, something you’d been training for relentlessly. The Sister School Goodwill Event was your chance to prove yourself, to show that you weren’t just some novice from Kyoto who could be easily brushed aside. And here was Gojo Satoru, with his casual grin and infuriatingly relaxed demeanor, treating the whole thing like a joke.

Yet no matter how much you glared, or how much you tried to put him in his place with your icy demeanor, it seemed to only amuse him more. He had this way of tilting his head just so, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he were daring you to say something, to try and put him in his place. But what could you say? Anything that came to mind seemed to bounce off him like water off a duck’s back. He was untouchable, not just in skill but in personality.

And that’s what really got to you. The way he seemed to glide through life without a care, untouched by the things that would have sent anyone else into a spiral of self-doubt. He was arrogant, yes, but it was the kind of arrogance that was infuriatingly earned. He knew he was good—no, he knew he was the best—and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

As the day went on, you found yourself trying not to react to his constant quips and jabs, but it was like trying to ignore a particularly persistent mosquito. The more you tried to brush him off, the more determined he seemed to get a rise out of you. And the worst part was, he was succeeding. Every time you shot him a glare or bit back a retort, he’d just laugh that infuriating laugh, as if to say, “See? I knew I’d get to you.”

It was like he could see right through you, past the carefully constructed walls you’d built to keep people at a distance. He saw how much you cared, how much you wanted to succeed, and he poked at that vulnerability with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Not because he was cruel, but because he found it entertaining.

And that’s what made him so insufferable. He wasn’t just some cocky sorcerer throwing his weight around—he was someone who enjoyed getting under your skin, who relished in the challenge of breaking down your defenses. To him, it was all a game, and you were the unwitting participant. 

Looking back now, you can almost see the moment he decided you were worth his attention. It wasn’t when you scowled at him or tried to brush off his comments; it was when he realized that no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, you couldn’t hide the way he got to you. And from that moment on, it was as if he’d made it his personal mission to see just how far he could push you.

He was everything you couldn’t stand in a person—arrogant, overconfident, and far too comfortable with himself. But even then, there was a part of you that knew there was more to him than just that. A part of you that recognized that behind the jokes and the winks, there was someone who saw the world in a way you didn’t quite understand, someone who, for better or worse, was going to be a part of your life whether you liked it or not.

That was the beginning of your tumultuous relationship with Gojo. Every interaction since then had been a battle of wits, with him always managing to get the upper hand, no matter how hard you tried to stay one step ahead. He was insufferable, and yet… you can’t stop thinking about him.

You remember how Gojo had effortlessly dodged your attacks during that time. He was skilled and perceptive. It wasn’t just that he was fast—he moved with a fluidity that made it seem as though he was dancing rather than fighting.

Each time you lunged at him, he sidestepped or spun away with an ease that was almost maddening. His grin never faltered, never wavered. It was as if he were enjoying the entire spectacle, completely unfazed by your every attempt to land a hit.

“Come on, is that the best you’ve got?” he’d taunted, his voice carrying a casual amusement that only fueled your frustration.

The way he said it, so nonchalant and dismissive, made it clear he wasn’t just teasing—you were genuinely failing to impress him. It wasn’t just a challenge to him; it was a game. And for someone like Gojo, who seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter, the stakes felt almost trivial.

What made it even more infuriating was the way he seemed to almost predict your every move. No matter how you changed your strategy, how you tried to outthink him, he was always one step ahead. It was as if he had a sixth sense for reading your intentions, a talent that made him appear almost supernatural. Every dodge, every counter, was executed with a precision that left no room for error.

In that moment, it felt as though the fight wasn’t just about physical skill—it was a battle of wills. You were pouring everything you had into trying to best him, to prove that you were more than just a novice from Kyoto. But Gojo’s demeanor, his seemingly effortless ability to avoid and counter your attacks, made it feel as though you were trying to fight against an immovable force.

It wasn’t just that he was good; it was the way he made it look so easy. It was like watching someone play a video game on the easiest difficulty setting while you were struggling on the hardest. His ease in the face of your best efforts was both impressive and infuriating. It was clear he was toying with you, not out of malice but because he genuinely enjoyed the challenge, however mild it might have been for him.

Every time you threw a punch or unleashed a spell, his reaction was a mix of amusement and mild surprise. It wasn’t as if he underestimated you—he knew exactly what you were capable of, and he relished the chance to outmaneuver you. His grin was a constant reminder that he was having fun, that he wasn’t taking this seriously because he didn’t have to. For him, it was all just another day, another opportunity to show off his skills.

“You’re strong!” He tells you with a grin on his face. “Let’s be friends! Give me your phone number, quick!”

"Huh?"

"Hurry, bring out your flip phone already!"

"We're in the middle of a one on one, you idiot!"

"So? I wanna be your friend!"

And that was what made him so exasperating. The whole event felt like it was being played out on his terms, with him in control of every aspect. To him, it was less about proving himself and more about showing just how superior he was in a way that made it almost seem effortless. The arrogance wasn’t just in his words; it was in every action, every movement that demonstrated his dominance.

For you, the fight was a matter of pride, a chance to show that you were more than capable, that you could stand toe-to-toe with someone of his caliber. But every time you saw that grin, every time you heard that taunting voice, it drove home the fact that no matter what you did, you were always going to be playing catch-up. And the more you tried, the more it seemed like you were just feeding into his amusement.

The whole experience left you feeling both frustrated and oddly impressed. Frustrated because you couldn’t seem to catch him, no matter how hard you tried. Impressed because, despite your annoyance, you couldn’t help but admire his skill and confidence. It was a bittersweet combination of emotions, one that made you both present and respect him in equal measure. And as much as you wanted to forget that day, Gojo’s presence in your mind remained an ever-present reminder of the challenge he represented—and the way he seemed to effortlessly stay one step ahead.

But what bothers you the most is how, despite all of his flaws, there’s something about him that draws you in. No matter how hard you try to deny it, those memories of him, those moments where he’d flash you that grin or make a ridiculous joke, are seared into your mind.

You find yourself remembering the smallest details—the way his voice sounded when he teased you, the warmth of his hand when he’d casually patted your shoulder after a mission, the way his eyes, hidden behind those sunglasses, seemed to see right through you.

It’s maddening because you’ve spent so much time trying to forget, trying to focus on anything but him. But no matter what you do, the memories remain, vivid and persistent. And it leaves you wondering, despite everything, why you can’t just let go. Why, after all this time, you’re still thinking about Gojo Satoru.

Back then, when you first met Gojo Satoru during the Sister School Goodwill Event, you had quickly dismissed him as just another arrogant brat who seemed to have the world handed to him on a silver platter. His cocky attitude, the way he flaunted his abilities, and his effortless charm made it all too easy to write him off.

To you, he was nothing more than a figure of annoyance—a sorcerer who, with his overconfidence and privileged position, would never be someone you’d get along with. It seemed clear from the start that your paths would never truly align.

Fast forward to the summer break of that year, and you find yourself face-to-face with him again. The sun blazes overhead, turning every outdoor spot into a sweltering inferno.

You're trying to navigate the heat while staying cool, but Gojo Satoru appears as if the oppressive temperature doesn’t affect him at all. His white hair seems to shimmer in the sunlight, and he’s wearing his trademark sunglasses, the kind that makes him look perpetually unbothered.

You’re waiting in line at a smoothie stand, desperately trying to cool down with a cone in hand. You were fanning yourself, trying to evade the intensity of the strong Kyoto sun. That’s when he shows up, casually strolling towards you with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey there, struggling to beat the heat?” Gojo calls out, his tone light and teasing. 

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for his games. “It’s scorching out here, Gojo. Not exactly the time for you to be playing your little tricks.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, leaning against the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m just here to offer some company. Can’t have you melting away all alone, can I?”

You try to ignore him, focusing on your drink as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “I’m fine. Really.”

But Gojo isn’t deterred. He follows you as you leave the stand, his presence like an unwelcome shadow. “So, where are you headed next? I hear there’s a nice little café down the street. We could cool off there.”

“I’m not interested, Gojo.” you snap, quickening your pace.

“Are you sure?” he persists, easily matching your stride. “It’s not every day you get to hang out with the strongest sorcerer in town. I promise I won’t bite.”

You shoot him a skeptical glance. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he grins. “You look like you could use a break, and I could use some company. Besides, I’m a great conversationalist. You might even enjoy it.”

Despite yourself, you find his persistence a bit endearing. You sigh, finally relenting. “Fine. One quick stop at the café, and then you leave me alone.”

“Deal!” Gojo exclaims, his grin widening. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

At the café, as you sit across from him, the air conditioning feels like a blessing. Gojo Satoru is still as relaxed as ever, leaning back in his chair with that same self-assured smirk. “See? Much better, right?”

You can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, this is definitely better. But don’t think this means I’m going to start liking you or anything.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, captain!” Gojo says, his tone playful. “I’m just here to make sure you’re not melting away into a puddle of frustration.”

As the conversation flows, his teasing starts to feel less like an annoyance and more like genuine fun. He talks about his latest adventures, exaggerates stories in his usual dramatic fashion, and even shares some surprisingly insightful observations about the work you both do. Somehow, he manages to not get on your nerves today.

“You know,” he says between bites of his own ice cream, “for someone who hates me so much, you sure seem to enjoy spending time with me right now.”

You snicker, shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m just making the best of a bad situation.”

“Well, I’d like to think it’s more than that.” Gojo says with a wink. “Maybe you’re starting to see that I’m not just a cocky brat. Maybe I’m actually kind of fun.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Gojo.” you warn, though you’re smiling. “This doesn’t change anything. I still think you’re incredibly annoying.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” Gojo chuckles. “But I’ll take that as a win for now. Maybe one day, I’ll get you to admit that I’m not so bad after all.”

As you finish up your meal, you reflect on how different this encounter is from your first meeting. The arrogance is still there, but it’s mixed with a kind of charm that’s hard to ignore. Despite yourself, you find that you’re enjoying his company, and maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than the cocky façade he puts on.

By the end of the day, as you part ways, you can’t shake the feeling that this summer break—this unexpected reunion—might just be the start of something different. Gojo’s persistence has managed to chip away at your defenses, and you’re left wondering if there’s more to this irritating sorcerer than meets the eye.

You tell yourself he’s still as annoying as ever, but your heart betrays you, pounding in your chest whenever he’s near. You don’t understand why, but you can't help but feel drawn to him. Every time you think of how he made you laugh when you least expected it, or how his confidence seemed to shield you from the world, your feelings get more confusing.

Is it possible that the guy who irritates you so much is the same one who’s now making your heart race? You can’t figure it out, but one thing’s for sure—something has changed, and you can’t ignore it anymore. You try to shake it off, convincing yourself it’s just the heat messing with your mind. After all, why would you like someone like Gojo Satoru? 

He’s arrogant, overconfident, and never takes anything seriously. But then, you remember how, during that first encounter, he didn’t just laugh at you—he noticed things. Little things. Like how you tried to stay strong even when you were clearly out of your comfort zone, or how you struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the event but never gave up.

You tell yourself it’s nothing, that he’s just good at reading people. Yet, the memory of his voice, the way he looked at you with those sharp eyes hidden behind his glasses, keeps replaying in your mind. The more you think about it, the harder it becomes to deny what you’re feeling.

It’s frustrating. You’re not supposed to like someone who drives you crazy, who makes you question everything about yourself. But here you are, your heart beating faster every time you think of him, and that infuriating smirk of his. Why did he have to be so… so irritatingly charming?

You find yourself wondering what it would be like to see him again, to have him tease you just so you can feel that strange flutter in your chest. But then, you immediately scold yourself for even thinking that way. There’s no way you could actually like him… right?

But deep down, you know the truth. No matter how much you try to deny it, the thought of Gojo Satoru won’t leave your mind. And with each passing day, the line between irritation and affection blurs just a little bit more. Yet you can’t do much about it. One way or another, somehow—you were just stuck with him being around. In Kyoto or Tokyo, or everywhere else. He’s just somehow always round. 

Months passed by, and it was summer again.

You’re sitting with Shoko Ieiri under the shade of a tree, fanning yourself with a hand to combat the relentless summer heat. It’s one of those rare, blissful afternoons where you’ve managed to carve out some free time. With Utahime-senpai occupied with a mission from Gakuganji and no assignments on your plate, you decided to take advantage of the break to catch up with Shoko. The two of you have become quite good friends over time, and her presence is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. And you think that even under this hot summer this year, you’ll end up becoming better friends.

Shoko leans back against the tree, her posture relaxed as she takes a sip from her drink. She listens with a wry smile as you continue your tirade. You’ve been going on about Gojo Satoru for what feels like hours now, pouring out your frustrations about how annoying and insufferable he is.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Shoko. He just—ugh! He keeps showing up everywhere I go! It’s like he has a personal vendetta to make my life miserable.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, her smile barely containing the amusement she’s clearly feeling. “And yet, you don’t seem to be able to stop talking about him.”

“That’s because he’s impossible to ignore!” you exclaim, waving your fan more vigorously. “He’s always so… so smug! Always grinning like he’s got some big secret. I can’t stand it!”

Shoko chuckles, taking another sip of her drink. “You know, the way you’re describing him, it almost sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush.”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “A crush? Are you kidding me? I can’t stand him! He’s arrogant and insufferable. There’s no way I’d ever—”

Shoko cuts you off with a knowing look. “Oh, come on. It’s perfectly normal to be irritated by someone you’re secretly interested in. You’re practically obsessed with him.”

“I am not!” you insist, your face turning a shade redder as you realize how ridiculous you must sound. “I’m just... venting! He’s always there, poking at my patience, and it drives me insane!”

“Uh-huh.” Shoko says, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “And yet, you’ve been ranting about him for an hour now. You don’t do that with just anyone.”

You huff, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s because he’s a special kind of irritating. There’s nothing romantic about it, Shoko. It’s purely aggravation!”

Shoko leans in, her expression teasing. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say. But if you don’t want to talk about Gojo, maybe we should switch topics.”

Before you can respond, a familiar voice calls out from behind you. “Hey, I didn’t realize I’d find you here.”

You turn to see Gojo Satoru standing a few feet away, his sunglasses reflecting the sunlight in a way that makes him look even more infuriatingly cool. Beside him was Geto Suguru, who had a face that reflected yours. He was, you supposed, as done as you were with the man with bright cerulean eyes. You purse your lips. He’s grinning, that same smirk plastered across his face as he casually approaches.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, trying to keep your irritation in check. “This is a private conversation, Gojo. Leave us alone.”

“Yeah, Satoru.” Geto parrotted back, his hands in his pockets. “Leave them alone!”

Gojo just laughs, seemingly unfazed. “How cold! I was just passing by and thought I’d say hello. But it seems like I’m interrupting something. Were you talking about me?”

Shoko suppresses a grin behind her drink as you try to regain your composure. “No, we were just—”

As Gojo stands there, still grinning, Shoko decides to have a little fun. She leans in, looking as though she’s about to share a juicy secret. “Actually, I was just telling her how annoying you are,” she interjects with a playful nudge. “In detail too. Nothing was held back.”

Gojo’s smirk only widens, clearly amused by Shoko’s teasing. Before he can respond, Geto Suguru—who has been hovering just out of sight—steps into view. He’s carrying a large bag of sweets and looks somewhat frazzled, his usual cool demeanor slightly ruffled. He looked so worn out, you think. Much too much heat and Gojo, you feel for the guy.

“Honestly, you should have called me. Geto says with a grin, eyeing both you and Shoko. “I have a lot more to share about this freak.”

You turn to Geto, eyes wide in surprise. “What did you just call him?”

“HUH!? Suguboo, how dare you call me a freak?” Gojo’s voice rises in mock outrage, his face turning into an exaggerated scowl.

Geto rolls his eyes, clearly unbothered by Gojo’s antics. “You dragged me around Tokyo to buy sweets all day. I can’t feel my body anymore.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his expression one of mild exasperation. “You’re currently not on my good side.”

Gojo throws a hand up in dramatic defense. “Hey, I had to make sure you didn’t miss out on the best sweets Tokyo has to offer! It’s not my fault if you overindulge.”

Geto shakes his head, still grumbling. “I’m pretty sure it was more than just overindulgence. I was about ready to collapse by the end of it.”

Shoko laughs, thoroughly enjoying the banter. “See, you’re not the only one who has complaints about Gojo. Even Geto here has his grievances.”

You look from Shoko to Gojo and then to Geto, feeling a mix of amusement and relief. The dynamic between the three of them is light and playful, and it’s clear that there’s a strong sense of camaraderie, despite the occasional grumbling.

“Well, it’s nice to know I’m not alone in my irritation,” you say, letting out a small chuckle.

Gojo’s grin turns into a more genuine smile as he turns to you. “Hey, don’t be too hard on me. If I’m really that annoying, at least I’m entertaining.”

Geto snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Entertaining or not, you owe me for today. We’re going to need a serious dessert break after all that.”

You nod in agreement, feeling more at ease with the situation. “Agreed. And Gojo, don’t think you’re off the hook just because you showed up here. I’m still not happy about you popping up everywhere I go. You’re so annoying!”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Annoying, huh? Well, I guess that’s one way to describe me. But if I’m annoying, why do you keep bringing me up?”

You groan, feeling the heat on your face increase, whether from the sun or from embarrassment you can’t tell. You didn’t want to know.  “Oh, just go away. We were having a perfectly nice conversation before you showed up.”

Gojo chuckles and leans casually against the tree. “Well, I was hoping you might invite me to join you. But if I’m that annoying, I guess I’ll just have to prove I’m not.”

Shoko looks between you and Gojo, clearly enjoying the scene. “You know, it’s kind of nice to see you two together. It’s like watching a rom–com soap opera, but with crazy strong superpowers.”

You shoot Shoko a mock glare, though it's clear you’re not truly upset. The corners of your mouth twitch into a smile despite your best efforts to look annoyed. “Thanks for your support, Shoko.”

Suguru Geto, still holding the bag of sweets, grins broadly. “Shoko, you and your talent for fueling fires. I swear, you live for this kind of chaos.”

Shoko, not missing a beat, gives an exaggerated bow. “Anytime, folks. I’m here for your entertainment. It’s my specialty, after all.”

Geto chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you enjoy stirring up trouble more than actually helping out.”

“Maybe,” Shoko admits with a playful glint in her eye. “But where’s the fun in being boring?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange. It’s moments like these, filled with light-hearted teasing and genuine friendship, that make summer breaks so enjoyable. The heat of the day, the annoyances of the past, and even the unexpected encounters with Gojo seem to fade into the background as you relax with friends who make even the most mundane moments entertaining.

“Well…..” you say, still smiling, “if I have to deal with more of Gojo’s antics, I’m glad I have you two around. It definitely makes the experience more bearable.”

Shoko grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We aim to please. Just remember, if Gojo starts getting on your nerves again, you know where to find us.”

“Absolutely.” Geto adds, lifting the bag of sweets in a mock salute. “And if you need more sweets to get through it, I’ll be your guy. Though, I can’t promise I won’t complain about it.”

“Oh, Suguru! There’s a Digimon-themed café nearby!” Gojo exclaims, excitement clear in his voice as he checks his flip phone. His eyes are practically sparkling with enthusiasm as he waves the phone in front of Suguru and you.

Suguru Geto, clearly exhausted from the earlier sweet spree and the relentless summer heat, groans. “Hehhhh, I don’t wanna go anymore, Satoru. I’m tired.”

Gojo, however, is undeterred by Suguru’s reluctance. He leans in, practically vibrating with eagerness. “Suguru, please! You can sit down throughout while I do my thing. They have card trades going on there right now! You know how rare those are.”

Suguru looks at Gojo with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Card trades? Really? Is that what’s got you so worked up?”

“Yes!” Gojo says, his voice rising with a mixture of pleading and excitement. “I’ve been looking for a specific card for ages. This is my chance!”

You watch the interaction with a smirk, enjoying the dynamic between the two. Suguru’s exhaustion is palpable, but Gojo’s enthusiasm is infectious. It’s clear that Gojo is determined to drag Suguru along, no matter how tired he is.

“Come on, Suguru!” Gojo continues, his tone softening as he tries to appeal to Suguru’s better nature. “Just a little while. You can rest while I geek out over the Digimon stuff. And there’s bound to be something good for you too, right? Maybe a nice, cool drink or something.”

Suguru sighs, clearly defeated but not entirely unmoved. “Alright, alright. But if this turns into another full day of Gojo dragging me around, I swear I’m going to collapse.”

“Deal!” Gojo says, beaming with satisfaction. “I promise we’ll keep it short. Just a quick visit, then we can head back. I owe you one, for real.”

Shoko could only sigh as though this is the hundredth time today. “Looks like we’re going to a cafe.”

“How do you deal with this everyday, Shoko?”

She shakes her head. “Believe me, you do not wanna know.”

As the four of you make your way to the café, you can’t help but chuckle at the contrast between Gojo’s boundless energy and Suguru’s weary resignation. It’s moments like these that highlight the unique blend of personalities and friendships that make summer days so memorable.

When you finally arrive at the Digimon-themed café, the atmosphere is lively, with colorful decorations and enthusiastic fans trading cards and chatting about their favorite characters. Gojo is immediately in his element, diving into the card trades with a fervor that makes you smile. 

Suguru, though still looking a bit tired, finds a comfortable spot to sit and relax, occasionally glancing over at Gojo with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Shojo sat beside you, sipping her cold peach iced tea. For a moment, the three of you look at Gojo and think he seems almost like a child.

“You’re a trooper, you know that?” you say, handing him a cool drink you picked up from the café. “I don’t know what I would do if Kusakabe dragged me half across town for a Digimon card.”

Suguru takes a sip and smirks. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day you get to see Gojo this excited. I guess it’s worth it. Plus, more excitement for him means he’ll be less active at the dorms tonight and not bother me.”

“That….” You paused. “So he runs out of energy too, huh?”

Suguru nodded. “Well, Satoru is a human being too. He gets tired too.”

“I think I like this version of him better.”

Shoko snickers. “You sure you don’t like him?”

“Now, now. Don’t scare them away, Sho.” Suguru smiles back at his friend. “If anything, they might be the last shot for Satoru to be a human being. After all, love makes one completely human.”

“B–but that’s not….. I don’t like him like that! He’s annoying and I just….”

“Denial that sounds like absolute lies is wasting Mother Earth’s air, you know?”

You shoot Shoko a playful glare, but your frustration is tempered by an internal chaos that’s increasingly difficult to ignore. Gojo, completely absorbed in his Digimon card quest, is a whirlwind of excitement and enthusiasm. His eyes are locked on the card he’s been wanting, and the moment he finally acquires it, his face lights up with an infectious joy that makes it hard for you to look away.

As Gojo gushes over the card and exchanges high-fives with fellow fans, you’re left sitting at the table with Shoko, trying to make sense of your own turbulent emotions. Your mind feels like a jumbled mess, caught between irritation and a confusing, unwelcome admiration. The way Gojo’s energy radiates around him, how his excitement seems to draw everyone in, including you—it’s all so bewildering.

Every time Gojo moves closer, whether he’s showing off his latest acquisition or simply passing by with that characteristic, carefree swagger, your heart races a little faster. It’s a reaction you can’t quite explain, and no matter how much you want to deny it, it’s becoming increasingly clear that you’re affected by him more than you’d like to admit.

You glance over at Shoko, who’s watching the scene with an amused expression. “How does he do it?” you ask, more to yourself than to her. “How does he make everything seem so... effortless?”

Shoko’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she leans back in her chair. “Oh, come on. You know exactly how he does it. It’s the same way he manages to get under your skin so easily.”

You try to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the way he gets so wrapped up in things. It’s like nothing else matters to him.”

Shoko chuckles softly. “It’s his passion. It’s what makes him who he is. And it’s probably why you can’t seem to get him out of your mind, even when you try.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I thought I had him all figured out, but every time he’s near, it’s like everything I thought I knew just... unravels.”

Shoko’s grin widens as she takes a sip from her drink. “Sounds like you’re having a hard time sticking to your own rules. Maybe you’re just more affected by him than you want to admit.”

You shoot her another glare, but this time it’s softer, tinged with resignation. “Yeah, well, thanks for pointing that out. I really needed the reminder.”

As Gojo returns to your table, holding up his prized card with a triumphant grin, your heart skips a beat. His enthusiasm is undeniable, and despite your internal struggle, you can’t help but be drawn to his infectious energy. He flashes a quick, radiant smile in your direction before turning his attention to Suguru, who’s still looking somewhat worn out but is clearly amused by Gojo’s excitement.

“Look what I got!” Gojo announces, waving the card in front of Suguru and you. “It’s the one I’ve been searching for!”

You try to muster up a response, but the sight of Gojo’s unabashed joy and the warmth of his smile make it difficult to focus on anything else. Your heart continues to beat faster, and despite your best efforts to keep your feelings in check, it’s becoming increasingly clear that Gojo’s presence has a profound effect on you.

Shoko leans in closer, her voice a soft tease. “Looks like you’re in for an interesting summer. Who knows? Maybe there’s more to this adventure than just the heat.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and acceptance. As Gojo continues to share his excitement with Suguru and the other café patrons, you find yourself caught up in the moment, realizing that no matter how much you try to resist it, Gojo Satoru is undeniably a part of your world now—one you can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard you try.

“I’m craving some ice cream, it’s still too hot.” You muttered under your breath towards Shoko. “I’m going to go and buy some.”

“You want me to go with you?” Shoko asked, looking up towards you. 

You shake your head. “I’ll need some time to think for a bit. Besides, it's just around the corner.”

She nodded back at you. “Okay, then call us when you come back. Gojo might be here a while, the nerd he is.”

“Sure.” You managed to mutter as you walked off.

It didn’t take you long to get to the ice cream store. You settle into a corner booth, hoping the relative solitude will give you a chance to cool down both physically and mentally. The air conditioning provides a much-needed respite from the relentless summer heat, and the cold, creamy sweetness of your ice cream is a soothing balm for your frayed nerves.

Despite the comfort of the cool air and the calming effect of the ice cream, your mind refuses to be at peace. It keeps drifting back to Gojo Satoru—his teasing words, that infuriating grin, and the effortless way he seemed to handle everything while you were left feeling like a tangled mess of frustration and confusion. You replay the scene in your head over and over, each replay adding another layer to your mounting exasperation.

You stab your spoon into the ice cream with a little more force than necessary, your frustration spilling over into the simple act of eating. The satisfying crunch of the spoon hitting the ice cream echoes your internal struggle. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice the door of the shop opening until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

“There you are.”

You freeze, spoon halfway to your mouth. Slowly, you look up to see Gojo Satoru standing in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow over your table. He’s got that same easygoing smile on his face, but there’s something different about his expression—something softer, almost hesitant.

“Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”

“They wanted to stay behind to rest up.”

“....Makes sense. You drained them up from energy.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, not waiting for an answer as he steps inside and takes a seat next to you at the small table.

You can’t help but feel a surge of panic mixed with irritation as you watch Gojo settle into the seat next to you. Of all the places in the city, why did he have to find you here, in this tiny ice cream store where you’d sought refuge from the chaos of the day? The familiar flutter in your chest is back, and despite your efforts to remain calm, your heart races as he sits down across from you.

Gojo’s presence feels overwhelming, and the proximity only amplifies your confusion. You can’t seem to reconcile the image of him as the carefree, teasing troublemaker with the more subdued, almost earnest expression he wore earlier. The combination of his unexpected arrival and the emotional turmoil from the day makes it hard to focus on anything else.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds filling the space are the steady hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of your spoon against the bowl of melting ice cream. It’s a stark contrast to the earlier energy of the café and the animated conversations you’d been a part of. Now, the silence feels almost oppressive, adding weight to the tension hanging between you.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on the ice cream, but the act of eating feels mechanical, a mere distraction from the growing unease. Each clink of your spoon against the bowl seems louder than it should be, amplifying the silence and making it harder to ignore the pounding of your heart.

Gojo, seemingly unfazed by the silence, takes a casual sip from his own ice cream. His relaxed demeanor is in sharp contrast to your internal turmoil, and it only serves to heighten your frustration. You want to break the silence, to say something that will diffuse the tension and make sense of the situation, but the words elude you.

Finally, Gojo breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly serious. “Was it really that bad?”

You blink, confused. “What… what do you mean?”

He leans back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that catches you off guard. “That I like you. Was it really that bad to hear?”

“......I’m sorry, what?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you suddenly feel the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the words won’t come out. Instead, you’re left staring at him, wide-eyed and completely at a loss for what to say.

Gojo’s expression softens, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m not the best at being subtle, I know. But I meant it. I like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and in your shock, you try to respond—but instead of words, all that comes out is a choked gasp as you accidentally inhale a spoonful of ice cream.You start coughing, the cold dessert lodged in your throat as you struggle to catch your breath. Gojo’s eyes widen in alarm, and he quickly reaches over to pat your back, trying to help you out. 

“Hey, hey, easy! Are you okay?”

You manage to swallow the ice cream, though your throat still feels cold and tight. Your face is burning with embarrassment, and you can barely bring yourself to look at him. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine… I just… you just…”

Gojo lets out a relieved laugh, though there’s a hint of concern in his eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shock you that much. I guess I should’ve picked a better time to say it, huh?”

You don’t know how to respond. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, disbelief, and something else you can’t quite identify. The fact that he just confessed, out of nowhere, is overwhelming, to say the least. He waits for you to say something, his usual playful demeanor tempered with genuine concern. 

“I’m serious, though. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s just because I like being around you. You’re fun, and… well, I like you.”

You feel your heart pounding again, and you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the way he’s looking at you. It’s different from his usual teasing gaze—there’s a sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I…” You struggle to find the right words, but nothing comes out the way you want it to. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles, that playful edge returning just a bit. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted you to know how I feel. But… if it’s too much, I’ll back off.”

You shake your head, feeling a mix of emotions too tangled to sort out. “No, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

Gojo’s smile softens, and he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “It’s okay. We don’t have to figure it all out right now, okay?”

You nod slowly, your mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. As he sits there beside you, holding your hand in his, you realize that despite all the teasing and frustration, there’s something undeniably real about the way he’s looking at you now. Maybe, just maybe, this summer heat isn’t the only thing making your heart race.

Gojo’s hand is warm against yours, and the feeling sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. He’s still looking at you with that playful grin, but there’s a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart flutter.

“Sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere.” he says, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But I couldn’t help it. Seeing you all flustered and cute earlier… I just had to tell you how I feel.”

You glance down at your hands, trying to process everything, but all you can focus on is the way his fingers are interlaced with yours. It’s surprisingly comforting, and you find yourself feeling a little less overwhelmed by the situation.

Gojo leans in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. “You know, you’re even cuter when you’re flustered. I might have to make it my mission to see that expression on your face more often.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, and you instinctively try to pull your hand away, but Gojo holds on gently, his smile widening. “No escaping this time. You’ve caught my attention, okay?  I’m not letting go so easily.”

You huff, trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out more flustered than anything. “You’re such a pain, Gojo.”

“Ah, but I’m your pain, right?” he quips back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I never said that.”

“Well, I’m saying it." he replies, leaning in even closer until you can feel his breath against your cheek. “And I think you secretly like having me around, even if you won’t admit it.”

You’re about to protest, but the words catch in your throat when you see how close he is. His face is only inches from yours, and the playful grin has softened into something more sincere.

“I like being around you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “Even if I drive you crazy sometimes.”

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something incredibly endearing about seeing Gojo like this—still teasing, but with a softness that makes your heart melt.He pulls back just enough to give you a bit of space, his expression turning thoughtful.

 “You know, I’ve had a lot of people in my life, but no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. It’s different with you… in a good way.”

You blink, taken aback by the honesty in his words. “Really?”

“Really.” he says, his smile warm and genuine. “You’re special to me. And I don’t want to let go of something that feels this right.”

Your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you forget all the teasing and frustration. All you can think about is how sincere he’s being, how much he actually cares.

Gojo must notice your softened expression because he chuckles lightly, his eyes twinkling. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in, but… would you mind if I tried something?”

You tilt your head, curious. “What?”

Instead of answering right away, he reaches out with his free hand, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is featherlight, almost hesitant, as if he’s waiting for your reaction. When you don’t pull away, he smiles softly and leans in closer.

“Just wanted to see if you’d let me do this.” he whispers, and before you can respond, he presses a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless, while he pulls back, looking pleased with himself “There,” he says with a grin. “Now you can’t say I don’t have feelings for you.”

You finally find your voice, though it comes out more like a squeak. “Y-You… Gojo!”

He laughs, not at all fazed by your reaction. “What? Too much? I thought it was pretty sweet.”

You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide the furious blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re impossible!”

Gojo just chuckles and gently pries your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at him again. “I might be impossible, but you’re stuck with me now. So… what do you say? Think you could handle having someone like me around a little more?”

You glance at him, and despite your embarrassment, you can’t help but smile. “You’re not going to give me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really.” he admits, his grin turning playful again. “But I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You sigh, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. Instead, there’s a warmth spreading through your chest that you can’t ignore. “Fine,” you say, pretending to be reluctant. “But if you keep teasing me like this, I’m going to get back at you.”

Gojo’s eyes light up, and he leans in with a smirk. “Oh, I’m looking forward to that. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

And just like that, the tension melts away, leaving you with a strange sense of contentment. You don’t have everything figured out yet, but with Gojo sitting beside you, still holding your hand, you think maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind figuring it out together.

[01zfan]

confident | j. sc

boyfriend!sungchan x reader | 7.3k words

this is in the anything 4 u verse but it is NOT part three. this happens before the series!

contains: dom/sub dynamics, cum eating, this is kinda filthy LMFAO

anything 4 u: confident | one | two

your unwavering confidence bordered on arrogance and was so palpable that people called you all the names to match. brash, overconfident, cocky, presumptuous. sungchan knew that peoples words about your personality only further solidified the notion in your brain that you were the shit. 

sungchan believed it was all an act at first. he knew you when you were meek, never letting your personality show to anyone besides him and shotaro. sungchan remembered when you were all limbs, growing into your face, and perpetually awkward. he knew what you were because he was the same way, just lanky and uncoordinated stumbling through every social situation. but somewhere along the way you started acting like you had unwavering confidence. you stood a little taller, spoke a little louder, and focused on looking people in the eyes.

you had gotten so used to putting on the mask that it became a part of you. it wasn’t a bad thing, your confidence made you stand out and go for things you wanted in life. you made connections and boldly made friends, and advocated for yourself. he saw the way you tricked your mind into being cocky until that’s what you became and he respected you for it. sungchan even envied your ability to turn on your charm at the drop of the hat. you could be scowling one moment and then all smiles and alluring the next—it was no mystery how you were able to get people to kiss your feet so easily. 

sungchan was a victim to your charm. he was able to admit that he was powerless against your pouty voice and pleading eyes when you wanted something. but he was able to convince himself he was different from everyone else. he was different because he was one of the few people in your life that saw your personality change from a nervous teenager to a confident young woman in realtime. he was also different because he was the only person who could make you realize your unwavering confidence put you in situations where you bit off more than you could chew.

that’s why sungchan laid on his bed with his hand behind his head as he video called you. it was deep into the night, but he was wide awake. the adrenaline rush from turning in a group project buzzed in his mind, and reading your compromising texts from the past week kept him alert.

you had fully taken advantage of the fact that sungchan was predisposed for his group assignment. he couldn’t hang out with you due to having to devote all of his time into the final project that was worth a bulk of his grade. you understood, so you let your boyfriend lock himself away in his dorm and the library but there were moments where you couldn’t handle it.

sometimes your messages would be sweet. you’d send sungchan little anecdotes of your day or send him pictures of things you saw that reminded you of him. sometimes it manifested in a quick text while you were walking to class, looking down at your screen and typing away instead of trying to avoid running into people. 

sometimes the messages would be abrupt. a few times it was sungchan texting you at odd periods of the day saying that he needed to see you. he treated you as a little pick me up, asking you nicely if you could come by his building just so he could see your face and give you a quick peck on the lips.

anytime sungchan would send you a text even remotely needing anything in the drop of a hat he’d get a picture of you outside his building. if he needed to see you he’d get a picture of you outside the bench of his dormitory by yourself and if he asked for food it would be a selfie of you with a bag of takeout clutched in your hand. 

you didn’t know how to describe your sudden need to do everything for sungchcan. maybe it was because he did such a good job of taking care of you, even if it came at the expense of his own comfort. there were moments in your relationship where you didn’t know why sungchan was so doting, why he acted the way he did—why would he be outside your dormitory building the moment you told him you were bored or why he’d offer to drive you anywhere you wanted to go. but when you saw sungchan come out of his building for the first time with his eyes wide from surprise you understood. just hearing the words thank you baby fall from sungchan’s smiling lips made you want to do anything for him. you couldn’t equate the feeling you got from sungchan bringing you in for a grateful hug to anything else. it was something like adrenaline and pride starting in your heart and working its way up to your head before spreading across your shoulders. the ability to take care of someone who so earnestly took care of others made your back straighten and gave you even more of that dangerous confidence.

the fact that sungchan had to reluctantly leave almost as soon as you saw him did anything but help. almost immediately after you handed him the food or gave him a peck on the lips he was heading back up to work. you also had to become the responsible one, denying sungchan’s silent attempts to get you to come back up to his room with him. you knew that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from distracting sungchan from his work, and that he wouldn’t stop you either.

you seemed to enjoy taking care of him so much and sungchan let himself enjoy it too, he saw it as a privilege to be doted on by you. so he humored the worried texts about getting enough sleep and he even texted you a few times that he was hungry just to see what you’d do. he was indulging himself in being spoiled by you. sungchan couldn’t stop his big toothy grin when he felt you become him overnight. now it was you kissing sungchan goodnight before he retreated back to his dorm, it was you slipping your hand into the back pocket of his jeans when you two would go on walks, and it was you bringing him in closer by his waist when you two would kiss.

one of the few things that was still sungchan’s was the job of compromising texts—something he took great pride in. he had mastered the art of keeping a straight face in public while sending you teasing and flirtatious texts about he was going to do to you when you two were alone. he could be talking to his friends in the dining hall and text you under the table that he missed the way you felt around him without missing a beat in the conversation. sometimes he would send them when you didn’t expect it. at a party while you were dancing with your friends, at dinner while he was sitting on the other side of shotaro. sungchan remembers vividly walking into the library and seeing you already there, sitting at an empty table with your back facing him. he smiled at your focused state, how you slightly nodded to the music in your wired headphones. he leaned against the wall, letting his fingers do all the work while he focused on your upwards facing phone and your hunched body working away on an assignment. when the text was sent sungchan smiled and waited, watching your hand absentmindedly reach for your lit up phone while he tucked his away. he liked being able to tell the exact moment you read his text, if you’d be able to stay quiet deep in the corner of the library in between the rows of dusty books. he took pride in seeing your head quickly dart around the room to see where he was.

the combination of not being able to see sungchan for longer than five minutes at a time and your newfound confidence of taking care of him made you bolder than usual. that’s why deep in the night when you missed your boyfriend in other ways your texts would become exponentially impure. you thought about how cruel it was to have sungchan so far away from you when all you wanted was to be with him. the project unfairly came in your relationship where sex was new and the two of you were figuring everything out about eachother. you always thought the urge to live underneath sungchan’s skin was bad, but after he touched you for the first time it was getting harder and harder control yourself. when you pulled him close by the legs wrapped around his waist for the first time you became insatiable. just as you started to get used to the feeling of his sweaty chest pressed against yours he was gone, keeping himself under lock and key to finish the semester successfully. 

maybe it was because the roles were reversed, how you were the one servicing sungchan all week. the fact that you were doting on him and asking how his day was and if he ate made gave you think you were him. not being able to see him made you needy, and being needy combined with the fact that it was late at night and your boyfriend wasn’t touching you all over made you insatiable. the only way you could attempt to comprehend how you felt was venting out all your sexual frustrations in your boyfriends messages. so every night, almost like clockwork, you would fall apart and text sungchan every step of the way. 

the first time sungchan received a text from you his eyes almost bulged out of his head. he had perfected his texts over time, finding the perfect balance between sexting and non-assuming teasing. you were different—you skipped through the double entendres and beating around the bush and went straight for the kill, telling him how badly you missed backshots. sungchan made the mistake of sending you three question marks immediately, because you sent back a list of everything else you missed back. he was distracted for the rest of the night, rereading every bullet point while his work was staring at him on his dimming laptop screen.

sungchan quickly found out you didn’t know what to do with the power of texting. he knew that being behind a screen gave you the confidence to tell him such lewd things. although you were confident, and that was something no one could ever take away from you, you were weak for him. sungchan took it as a compliment, how you couldn’t keep eye contact for too long or how you would smile slightly thinking he couldn’t see it. he could see the way you got the nervous jitters around him and how you were still hesitant to ask him for favors. in the bedroom your shy habits only increased tenfold. you had the disgustingly cute habit of hiding in the crook of sungchan’s neck or screwing your eyes shut when he would look at you. sungchan found it to be a pleasant surprise how you were during the act, making every time he had you in bed a battle. one side of him wanted to coax you to become more comfortable, but the other side wanted to force you to look him in the eyes as he mocked you for being so submissive. you were nothing like the fiery, confident, and smug girl in the bedroom. you were full of please’s and thank you’s and whimpers about how good everything felt. 

sungchan knew that you knew how shy you were. so he was surprised when he read your text message on the following night talking about how you badly you wanted to ride him. suddenly the girl that only spoke when spoken too in bed was declaring that she would make him beg for it. 

each sexual promise or confession of your lewd desire sungchan would send you back an equally desperate text. he imagined you smiling to yourself on the other side of the screen, completely unaware of what you were getting yourself into. he let the tension build up, he let you get bold due to the academic obligations keeping the two of your apart.

when sungchan finally submitted the assignment he learned back in his desk chair. he let out a heavy sigh, stretching his limbs out so far that he heard the satisfying crack of his bones. he grabbed his phone to send the official text to his group that the project was turned in and they had a presentation in a week. like the whole duration of the project, all he received was a thumbs up from one person and silence from everyone else. he would have the time to complain about how awful his partners were later, right now he had more important things to tend to. right as he sent the text your name appeared right on schedule, another compromising thing in the message preview.

i need you to nut on my face😕

sungchan laughed to himself seeing that one. tacking an emoji to something so unhinged made sungchan almost send you something equally unhinged back. but he realized that he had all the time in the world now, and you had completed your assignments for the week already.

so he leaned against the headboard of his bed, hoodie on as he pulled up your contact. he debated on texting you, telling you that he finished the project early. he thought about calling you and letting you hear the tone in his voice when he asked to come over. but sungchan thought about what you were doing right now, laying in bed watching your television shows as you sent him dirty texts. he wondered if you were wearing that cute pink pajama set he bought you on a whim last time you were out. sungchan decided he needed to see your face, even if it was trapped in the flat dimensions of his phone. when he saw the infamous three gray bubbles appear at the bottom of the chat sungchan wasted no more time and pressed the option to video call you.

while your video call was ringing, sungchan settled more into the bed. he spread his legs, and tucked one of his hands behind his head to show you his arms. he didn’t have a project to worry about anymore and he already felt the stress melting away as he thought about himself becoming your biggest problem tonight. he had your messages pulled up in the background, all the nasty promises you made the entire week. 

you answered on the final ring, camera close to your face as you laid in bed. he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as you pulled the camera closer to your face. 

“what’s wrong” you asked first.

“can i come over?” sungchan asked.

he didn’t want to beat around the bush. he was impatient and spent the whole week apart. sungchan watched your eyes widen. you adjusted yourself in the screen of his phone.

“you’re done with your project already?” you asked.

sungchan tightened the grip he had on his phone hearing the nervous twinge to your voice. 

“just turned it in.” he said.

sungchan watched you on his screen silently nod. he could practically see all the text messages you sent over the course of the week run through your head. you were already frazzled, and sungchan had to move out of frame so you wouldn’t see his smile. once he composed himself he returned back to frame.

“so can i?” sungchan asked again.

“yeah. just text me when you’re outside.” you said.

almost immediately after getting your confirmation, sungchan hung up on you. he made sure to text you see you soon, smiling at the direct reply to your last filthy text. sungchan was quick packing his overnight bag, stuffing his toiletries in his backpack before heading out the door.

when sungchan was halfway to your building, he realized that this was the longest he had been outside in the past week. the only time he spent outside was to go to the library or to class. each time the outdoors seemed overbearing, the only thing he could think about was getting inside of the air conditioned buildings to work on his project. but as he walked across campus to you everything seemed to be better. he walked briskly but had a pep in his step. he listened to the cicadas chirping while he reread all your messages with a smile on his face. sungchan didn’t even care about the humid heat that made his skin feel sticky. he felt like it was a perfect night when he made it outside your building, looking up at the pale brick building to locate your floor. sungchan was able to send the message without even having to look at his phone.

i’m outside. back entrance.

sungchan’s message stared back at him without being read. he let a minute pass, kicking rocks underneath his feet as he waited underneath the singular light. sungchan debated on coming through the front entrance, sneaking in behind the steady stream of girls that were heading in and out. but sungchan knew that would only lead to you getting in trouble for sneaking in a man into the all girls dormitory. because of the no boys policy, you found yourself at sungchan’s place more often than he was at yours. he almost invited you to his place, but he remembered that you specifically mentioned fucking him in your dorm on top of your bed. so he gladly settled for waiting outside the designated sneak-someone-in entrance while mosquitoes circled him like sharks. he even made himself look relaxed, leaning against the brick of the building when you opened the door.

you only opened the door a crack, peaking through hesitantly like you were making sure sungchan was really there. he opened the door the rest of the way by an intentional hand that was placed on top of yours.

sungchan noticed that when he closed the door you refused all eye contact. you shyly scratched at your face, muttering a distracted hi underneath your breath and placing a quick peck on his lips. you turned on your heel almost immediately, quietly walking down the halls of your building while sungchan trailed a little too close behind. he was tempted to put a hand on your lower back just to tease you, but he settled for lengthening his strides so you had to walk a little faster.

sungchan followed behind you the same way you always did with him. he caught you peaking over your shoulder when you two would turn the corner before quickly looking forward again. sungchan had to bite his lip and keep his head down to stop himself from laughing at the nervous look breaking through your facade. even if you knew the way to your room you still hesitated with each step, motioning to your door like he didn’t know which room was yours. you focused all your attention on putting your key into the lock, and sungchan purposely took a step forward to cage you between him and the door. 

“i like your nails.” sungchan leaned his head down way too close, acting like he was looking at your nails while lowering his voice. “when did you get them done?” he asked innocently.

“a couple days ago.” you said quietly, pushing open the door.

you opened it quickly, and sungchan was grateful the sound of the hinges covered up his breathy chuckle. while he turned to face the door to regain his composure he heard you quickly take off your shoes go deeper into your dorm to create distance from him.

when sungchan turned back around he put on his best un-assuming face, having to bite his lip again at another sight. even though you made your desperation known through text sungchan had no outlet. working on his project gave him no time, and the idea of touching himself didn’t hold a candle to you. he let himself indulge in you once again, how you stood in front of him so pretty in your pink pajama set with your eyes wide as saucers. he wanted to close the space and pick you up like you weighed nothing, he wanted to lean you against the wall in your entryway and make up for lost time then and there. but he kept calm as he recalled how confident you were in your abilities to manhandle him over text. 

you weren’t the type to shy away from sungchan’s gaze. most of the times you challenged it, making it a game to match the intensity. when you were kids and he would glare you would glare right back, even adding waving your hand in annoyance to raise the stakes. you matched his flirting looks, when he lowered his eyelids you’d do the same. but now, as sungchan looked down at you from his spot beside the door you found yourself looking away. he seemed bigger in the context of your room for some reason. even though you had seen sungchan nearly everyday for as long as you could remember he looked so much stronger than the man you were teasing for the past week.

the severity of your texts flashed across your mind but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit defeat just yet. so you cleared your throat and motioned to sungchan to come deeper into your room.

“make yourself comfortable.” you said.

sungchan’s gaze went back to normal in an instant, he bounced from his place in your entry way to walk past you. 

“such a good host.” he said.

he wasted no time throwing his overnight bag on your office chair and sitting on the edge of your bed. he watched you with a smile on his face, how you purposely left his line of sight to retreat to your mini fridge.

“do you want anything?” you asked.

sungchan hummed, fully extending his legs and swaying his feet on the ground. he took a page from your playbook, pulling the same move you pulled on him when he’d beat around the bush.

“i want you to come over here.” sungchan said.

almost instantly he heard your movements in the fridge cease, and you came back into his line of sight as you walked to him. sungchan spread out his outstretched legs as you came closer and you slot yourself between them. you were quiet, waiting for sungchan to say something first. he let his hands hold on the back of your thighs and he pulled you in, forcing your timid feet to step forward until your legs pressed into the bed. sungchan creeped his hands down to your knees and back up. he repeated the motion until you put your hands on his shoulders and started smoothing out the fabric of his hoodie. 

sungchan drew his feet in, and went from looking at your stomach to looking you in the eyes. he felt your hands on his shoulders hesitate for a moment before going back to their ministrations. 

“you gonna do all that stuff you said over the phone?” sungchan asked it calmly, smiling when he saw your lips part in shock.

you nodded your head quickly, eyes still wide at his bluntness. sungchan saw you notice the anxiety resting on your features because you cleared your throat and moved your hands to sungchan’s to pry them off of you. he listened immediately, bringing his hands down to the edge of your bed to hold onto it. sungchan saw the look of determination and the way you furrowed your eyebrows to try and seem domineering. he humored you, sitting completely still as he waited for you to tell him what to do.

“take your jacket off.” you said hesitantly. 

sungchan smiled and nodded, bringing his hands to slowly untie the drawstring of his sweats. you still stood in front of him, completely frozen as he gave you a show. sungchan couldn’t remember the last time you were so quiet.

when the drawstring of his sweats were undone, sungchan went to his hoodie and pulled the zipper down. he was slow, letting the sound of the metal teeth unzipping fill the room. your eyes were already becoming glassy before him, and he almost felt pity for you. he rationalized his enjoyment by telling himself it was for your own good, that you should’ve be so cocky. words are nothing if you don’t have the power to back them up. so sungchan slowly takes off his hoodie and throws it to the side, leaving him in loose sweats that barely hug his waist.

sungchan can tell you got another wave of confidence from the way you pushed him to the bed. he could say honestly the sudden pressure from your hands on his shoulders took him by surprise. his back his your bed with a dull thud, and within seconds you were crawling on him. sungchan quickly put his hand on your ass and used the other to get further on the bed. you followed his every move and pressed your lips to his neck. sungchan immediately felt you suck on the skin, and you teased the sensitive area with your teeth. 

you two were tumbling messes on top of your sheets. while sungchan tried moving further onto the bed you were only focused on feeling every part of him. your artificial nails scraped his abs, and your other hand suddenly went to the bed to give you both stability. when sungchan tried slipping his hand that was on your ass underneath the fabric of your sleeping shorts you smacked it away.

he rested on the bed fully, looking up at you. you straddled his waist, breathing heavy from your desperation and your attack on his neck. sungchan could already imagine the red angry mark that was going to form in its wake. he was silent watching you, waiting for you to do something else. he experimentally brought his hands to your waist after the silence became overwhelming and you smacked them away again. he let his hands rest beside him on the bed with a hiss and flexed his fingers to distract himself from grabbing at you again. 

sungchan was shocked that you so quickly understood what it meant to be dominant. he already felt on edge waiting for what you were going to tell him to do, he even got the urge to beg to touch you. when he parted his lips with a please on the tip of his tongue your hand clutched the wrist of his left hand. you threaded your fingers over the back of his hand and guided it to your body. sungchan thought you would only give him access to the soft skin of your waist, but you guided his hand to your stomach, and then greedily pushed it downwards. 

“you know what to do.” you said shuddering.

sungchan needed no more guidance, he instantly pressed his palm flat to your stomach and pushed down past your waistband. sungchan changed the position of his hand to further stick it down your pants. he watched his hand disappear past the waistband of your shorts before he looked up to you for approval. you nodded and lifted your hips slightly from his to give him more room. sungchan took the extra room, he even took the chance to bring his hand back to your ass to lift your hips higher. you let him, leaning forward until you had to keep a hand of the bed beside sungchan’s head to hold yourself upright.

he immediately started working your clit with his index and middle finger. he was impatient, rubbing quick circles to make up for lost time. you didn’t do anything to stop him, and sungchan smiled smugly seeing you lull your head backwards. his hand on your ass gripped harder and he let out a grunt. at sungchan’s noise you came back to your senses, and you grabbed his forearm to get his attention.

“finger me.” you said.

any attempt to add bass to your voice was futile. your tone was whiny, and the same pout you’d get when you were asking for something stretched across your face. but sungchan nodded again and gave you exactly what you wanted. his fingers drifted down from your clit to your core. sungchan used your arousal as lubricant and pushed his digits into you, all the way until he had nothing left to give you.

sungchan alternated between looking at you and his obstructed view of his fingers disappearing into your cunt. he felt you squeeze around him the same time you let out tiny mewls. you were so desperate trying to hold back your sounds, holding onto whatever power trip you were on. sungchan wanted you to give in and submit to him already. he didn’t need anything in your texts anymore, he needed you under moaning loudly with sopping wet eyes. so he gripped your ass a little harder and started guiding your hips backwards on his digits. sungchan looked up at you, how you had your eyes closed in bliss and bit your lip. you were distracted, following sungchan’s guiding hand until you were bringing your hips started going backwards instinctually.

“that’s right.” sungchan didn’t have to move his hand anymore and fully focused on watching you do all the work. “keep going baby.” he cooed.

almost immediately, your hips came to a stop and you pressed your hand flat to sungchan’s chest.

“don’t tell me what to do.” you saiid. 

although your voice was still distracted from being touched, your body remained steadfast. you no longer moved your hips back to follow sungchan’s guiding hand. instead you reached into your sleeping shorts and pushed on sungchan’s hand, silently telling him to start fingering you again. he wordlessly fell into his place, working his fingers the same way he always did for you. he withheld teasing remarks when you became sopping wet around his fingers and filled the room with the wet lewd sounds of your cunt. sungchan only silently obeyed, silently hoping that you would get meaner throughout the night.

when he started feeling you get close, you pressed your chest so deep into his sungchan thought he was going to lose his breath. he wrapped his arm around your back, pressing hard just to feel you squirm. you started whimpering in his ear, and sungchan swore he heard a rushed good boy fall from your lips. he drove his fingers into you faster and didn’t stop until you wedged your hand between your bodies to grab his wrist.

“let me—i’m going to ride you.” you said quickly. 

sungchan took his hands off of you as you went to one side of his body to take your shorts off. sungchan was faster than you, he even had time to take his condom from his pocket and rip open the packet. he pumped his length a few times watching you impatiently take off your clothes. your set was discarded over the edge of the bed and sungchan successfully put on the rubber, holding his dick upright as you went to straddle his waist again.

you were hesitant lining up his dick at your entrance, sungchan could feel your hole seize around his tip after you slightly lowered your body. he realized then that you had never actually rode him before, it was always sungchan keeping your hips suspended while he drove up into you. sungchan smirked to himself at the realization that you never did any of the work but you still had the nerve to tell him multiple times this week about your determination to ride him. so instead of helping you ease down he put his hands underneath his head, looking up at your knitted eyebrows and your lip caught between your teeth. he reluctantly held back coos encouraging you or telling you how good you felt as you sunk down further and further. he only watched you with a smile on his face as you realized midway you couldn’t handle it. he purposely thrusted his hips upwards slightly, just to hear you let out a squeak.

“don’t stop now.” sungchan smiled.

you didn’t have enough focus to chide sungchan the same way you did before. you were enveloped in trying to take all of him, to ride him the way you promised. sungchan saw his chance to tease you relentlessly and to take back the dominance you tried to claim as yours.

when you took all of sungchan you slowly raised your hips and lowered them again. your palms pressed into his chest for stability as you tried to find a rhythm. you pathetically readjusted your body, changing the position of your knees to find proper angling. sungchan mockingly pouted to your face while your eyes were screwed shut from the effort and stimulation. you pushed your knees higher up on the bed and it finally gave you the ability to start rocking slowly. you whined from the pressure and silently hoped that sungchan would take pity on you. you didn’t realize how hard it was to keep going without sungchan’s hands guiding your body up and down. 

“about time.” sungchan took one of his hands from behind his head after you started slowly riding him. he ran his free hand through his hair so he could have a clear view of you falling apart. “took you long enough.” he teased.

hearing the mean edge to sugnchan’s voice made you think he had seen you suffer enough. you thought he had taken back his role as the dominant one in bed, and you could go back to being the one that took it all. so you whined again, and moved your hands from sungchan’s chest so you could press your chest against his. but instead of letting you collapse against him so he could plant his feet into the mattress and fuck up into you, sungchan put his hand on your shoulder to keep you upright. when you stopped moving completely his other hand from behind his head started pinching your burning thighs each time you slowed down or broke your rhythm.

“i thought you said you were going to ride me all night?” sungchan asked.

any rebuttal you had was trapped in your throat. you were weak, not even bothering to smack away sungchan’s fingers that were nipping at your flesh. all you could do was pitifully shake your head and try to fight against sungchan’s hand that was still pressed into your shoulder.

“barely lasted a minute.” sungchan cooed mockingly.

“please.” you were nearly crying, not even knowing what you were asking for.

sungchan couldn’t describe what he felt seeing you finally submit to him. your eyes were becoming more and more wet by the second, and each time he pinched at your thigh you screwed your eyes shut and let out little pitiful sounds. the lesson he was trying to teach you left his mind the same time he let go of the hold on your shoulder. you wasted no time pressing your chest against his and sungchan took even less time bringing his hands to your body. he held onto your waist firmly and planted his feet into the mattress as he lifted your hips. 

the desperation and waiting hit him like a freight train the moment your hands gripped his shoulders for stability. his hands went to other parts of your body—your ass, your back, your shoulder blades. sungchan settled on the back of your head and neck, turning your face so you were looking directly at him. he gently kissed your forehead, the complete opposite from his hips that were kissing yours with a rough slap.

“i missed you.” sungchan says it while holding back a grunt. when you only moan in response he presses his face against your sweaty cheek. “what else did you say over the phone again?” he asks.

sungchan feels you shake your head again, and when he feels you draw in a breath in preparation to speak he speeds up. you settle deeper into him and his hand on your back keeps you in place.

“i thought you were gonna make me cry?” he refuses to let up, you are driving him to the brink by your weakening grip and incoherent words. “thought you were gonna do all the work?” he teases.

when sungchan hears you cry out an i will he almost loses it then and there. when you suddenly pull your hips off of sungchan he’s the one that is left a shuddering and whining mess. sungchan watches you quickly clamber off of the bed as you pull at his hand to follow your lead. sungchan is confused at your sudden change in demeanor but follows you wordlessly. the feeling of almost emptying into the condom makes him pliable to your impatient hands. you guide him to the edge of the bed and he lets you. when you settle between his legs sungchan’s hand goes to your face to draw a line from your cheeks to the top of your head. when your hand pulls at the slimy stick condom sungchan groans and he props his other hand behind his back to keep his body upright. 

his hand tightens in your hair but you’re the one in control, evident in the way sungchan lets out pathetic curse when you kiss his tip. sungchan feels you exert all your strength in your hand that presses into his thigh to constrict his movements. even if he wanted to he doesn’t think he could. his body turns to jelly when you take him into your mouth, and when he feels your nose press into his abdomen he becomes even weaker.

“oh my god.” sungchan whines.

he screws his eyes shut hoping that it’ll help him focus on not cumming down your throat. far off in the back of his mind he still remembers your last text and it’s the only thing that keeps him together. he has to bite his lips when he hears you gag and the vibrations of your laughing around his dick. he bucks his hips and now it’s you pinching him before you take him just as deep again. 

when he opened his eyes again he saw you staring back up at him, meeting the same gaze you always shied away from. you didn’t have the same intense look he always gave you when he knew you were close, instead you still look up to him with eyes that are wet from want and almost pleading from desperation. he makes the shocking discovery in that moment that he really is no different from everyone else. even if you’re the one on your knees sungchan is the one begging, and even though you are the one struggling to take all of him in your mouth you are the one in charge. he realizes that he will forever be at your mercy, even if he is the one that is fucking you into the mattress. he could hold your hands over your head but you are the one in charge. he will do anything for you just by a simple look, the dominance for sungchan is just a show—a technicality because of his stature.

he had to weakly pulled his dick from your mouth after hearing you gag again. your eyes opened wider, glassy and red as sungchan started jerking himself off. he kept the same speed you had and he tilted his head to the side as he continued looking at you. your lips were plump and glistening from spit and precum, and your impatient tongue swiped across your lips to clean them. 

he looked at your flushed face and your hand that was desperately digging into the flesh on his thigh as your eyes stayed trained on his dick. you were nothing like the nonchalant and cocky demeanor that oozed from your text messages, but somehow you were just as powerful. you were desperate and it made sungchan’s hair stand on end. he watched you part your lips in anticipation instead of commanding him because you already knew he was going to deliver on your filthy promise.

“can i cum on your face?” sungchan looked down at your lips, needing one last thing. “please?” he whimpered.

you nodded quickly, readjusting yourself on your haunches. you straightened your posture instead of leaning into sungchan’s thigh.

“yes.” you clear your throat. “you were so good for me.” you say hoarsely.

you knew you said the right thing when sungchan lulled his head back and increased the speed of his hand. you focused your blurring eyes from their perpetual state of begging to the determined and focused look sungchan would get when he knew you were close. your hands that dug into the muscle of his thigh started rubbing soothing circles, and you perked your chest up more for show. by the time sungchan focused on you again he was lifting his hips off the bed to come closer to your face. his doe eyes were struggling to look at you, fluttering closed when you parted your lips again. sungchan brought his free hand to clutch at yours on his thigh.

“i’m close.” sungchan whimpered. 

sungchan stood up fully in front of you, and you began preparing yourself. he looked down at you one last time, heavy pants leaving his swollen lips. you watched his chest rise and fall rapidly in anticipation and felt the muscles of his thigh tighten underneath your hand. you could see the begging in his eyes and hear please coming out rushed between his pants. you responded by quickly wiping your face with your hand that was on sungchan’s thigh and tilting your head upwards. you locked eyes with him for a second before reluctantly closing yours.

the same moment you became a blank canvas sungchan painted it, his hand coming to an abrupt stop as heat bathed the apple of your left cheek and the tip of your nose. you heard a groan and then more heat bathed your other cheek. sungchan cursed above you and squeezed at your hand so tightly you thought it would break. you bared the pain when you felt he had more for you, coming out in spurts as he milked himself. you felt it on your eyelids and glide down the sides of your forehead. you felt sungchan thigh shake underneath the pressure of your hand before he came to a complete stop again, letting on one more heavy exhale.

right as you started to miss having a view of sungchan, you felt him quickly crouch down to you. you blindly grasped at him before you felt his finger quickly swipe over your eyes. when you didn’t feel anything on your eyelids anymore you opened them slowly to sungchan’s still labored breathing. he looked at you like he was waiting for something, his gaze flickering to himself all over you and your eyes. you were both equally bewildered, both of your lips parted waiting for someone to say something. you saw sungchan’s cum glisten on his index finger, and you suddenly had an idea. when his tongue darted out to wet his lips you saw it dribbling down his hand. your lips parted and you licked your own lips.

“eat it.” you said quietly.

sungchan looked even more bewildered hearing your request. his pupils shook looking at you and you blinked slowly. before you could take it back sungchan’s finger disappeared into his mouth. you watched with a slack jaw, and felt a sick pleasure bloom in your chest when he pulled out a completely clean finger. you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling when he showed you the proof that he ate it all by silently spreading his fingers and turning his hand around.

“you little freak.”

[theemporium]

May I order a smut-berry daquiri with number 9: “you should probably hold onto something” with james potter? ❤️ xoxo love your writing and congrats on 10k!!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

9. “You should probably hold onto something.”

.

“Atta girl, taking me so well.” 

You would have flushed under his praise if he didn’t sound so damn patronising as he said it, as he leaned over you and sunk his cock deep inside you whilst he whispered filthy things into your ear. 

It wasn’t often that James got wound up or pissed off, not like this. He was a cocky, confident, arrogant guy who was as kind and understanding as he was self-assured. He gave people the benefit of the doubt. He gave people second chances. He gave people the boost of encouragement they needed. 

It was hard to really, truly piss him off. 

But you had accidentally managed to achieve just that.

And now you were paying the consequences of James’ anger and jealousy, not that you could really complain. The boy had practically manhandled you onto the bed, ass up and face down and his cock making you see stars before you could even try to remember what the guy’s name was that pissed James off in the first place. 

“You’re made for me,” James growled in your ear, his thrusts emphasising each word as you continued to whine and moan beneath him. “My hands. My lips. My fucking cock. Isn’t that right, honey?” 

“Mhm,” you whined, all high-pitched and breathy as you grasped the sheets beneath you in tight fists. 

“You should probably hold onto something,” James muttered in your eas as he grasped your hands in his, as he shifted and moved them to grasp the rails of the headboard instead. “Just like that, baby. Gonna keep them there?” 

You nodded.

“Words,” he demanded, his hand smacking down on your ass as you whined beneath him.

“Yes, yes,” you breathed out, your cheek squished against the pillow beneath you. “Gonna keep my hands there. Promise.” 

“Good girl,” he cooed, soft and mocking but his words still made you whine in delight, your walls clenching around his cock. “Such a predictable slut, hm?” 

You bit down on your lower lip. 

“What did I say,” he hummed, smacking your ass again and watching the way your body shivered in pleasure at the slap. “I don’t want you hiding your noises now, okay?” 

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I want to make sure that little dick hears just how good I make you feel,” James groaned in your ear, his hands squeezing your hips as he began to thrust again. “I want everyone in this fucking castle to know what a needy slut you are for my cock and my cock only.”

.

[lixzey]

A snippet from The Name of the Game.

“What are you, a lesbian?” Sirius asked, frustrated at the girl who had avoided him the whole day.

His words caught you off guard, making you stop in your tracks. Sirius Black has been following you the whole day and you have had enough of him. You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow at his audacity. You had purposefully been avoiding him because of his arrogance, which was becoming tiresome. It had nothing to do with your sexual orientation, which was definitely none of his business.

“What did you just say?” You snapped, your voice laced with annoyance.

“I said, what are you, a lesbian?” Sirius repeated, his tone smug.

You scoffed, unable to believe his ignorance and lack of common sense.

“Don't you think you're just not my type?”

Sirius looked taken aback, the cocky smirk on his lips fading momentarily. He had assumed that every girl would be swooning over him, but you were different. You refused to be swayed by his charm and good looks. But instead of backing down, Sirius became even more determined.

“Come on L/n, tell me, how do I get you? How do I even win you? What’s your secret, huh?”

You were absolutely fed up with him, he was getting on your nerves and it made you want to just punch him, but you decided to play along with his little game.

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you stepped forward, a seductive look in your eyes. You grabbed Sirius' tie, pulling him closer, making him gulp nervously—clearly not expecting you to do that. You stood on your toes, trying to reach his full height.

“Well, that’s a secret I don’t tell little boys.” you whispered in his ear, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine. “The question is, are you man enough to find out?” You let go of his tie and took a step back, a smug smirk that could rival his spread on your lips, before sauntering away.

Sirius stood there, flabbergasted. He had never met a girl like you before, and it was both frustrating and intriguing. You had a confidence and independence that he found both maddening and irresistible. He had never been rejected like this before. He couldn't believe that you were the only person who was immune to his charms.

The plan to make Y/n L/n was a bit harder than he initially thought.

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[winterwandersland]

Paperwork

tw/cw: arguing, mentions of past torture and SA word count: 5.4k Kamara figures out the real reason Simon and the team needs her.

Chapter Two

The car ride was silent. No one dared to touch the radio, and no one wanted to be the first to speak during the seven hour long car ride, one that was usually filled with joy while all passengers sang along to the radio music. “How long will you be gone, Mara?”

Simon kept his hands on the wheel, avoiding looking into the back view mirror and only making slight eye contact with Kamara, who was glaring at the man driving. “A few days, one week, max. But I’ll come back every night, just like I told you. I’m not leaving you.” She kept her stare at Simon while she spoke to her daughter, secretly addressing the boundaries of the operation without addressing him.

The adults greeted each other, giving each other hugs and helping to get Ellie settled. Simon knew Tommy from different missions they had been on, the two growing to be like brothers. Upon being introduced to Joel, Simon experienced a sense of having a family again. He looked to Tommy like an older brother, Tommy being over a decade older than he, and Joel like a father figure, although Tommy and Joel were only some years apart.

The brothers already knew who Kamara was before they met her, both from Simon’s terrible convincing that he only spoke so much of her because she was the team’s pain in the ass, and also because there was always a debrief held when she joined a team, the rumors of her many disciplinary actions spreading from unit to unit. No one could comprehend how someone could have so many Article 15s on their file and still be able to serve, but with the many debriefs of possible behavioral issues, every meeting also ended with praises of her exceptional ability. Despite being bounced around multiple units, one Captain fought to keep her, primarily because a certain sergeant refused to be the last needed vote for her transfer.

With that sergeant’s stubbornness, the Captain could see what he saw, another soldier fighting for what she believed, no matter what the rules were. She often went against orders, putting herself in harm’s way to protect her team, spontaneously running a plan that would be against many codes, but she got the job done, despite the write-up she knew came after. The Captain realized that the arrogant men–himself included–were too prideful to admit that a woman was the one saving their lives and completing their tasks. They labeled her self-confidence and cockiness as 'insubordinate' and insolent when she was just a headstrong woman who marched to the beat of her own drum–a threat to man.

When Ellie settled in, they all said their goodbyes, Kamara making sure that she explained the situation again. Her daughter already knew, and instead of being surprised, Kamara smiled at her, praising Ellie for how smart she was and gave her a goodbye kiss.

***

The couple walked together, making their way towards the building where the rest of the 141 waited, passing by many soldiers who were running drills, the sun still beaming upon them and the dirt beneath their shoes chronically dry, crumbling with each step. Kamara looked on edge, constantly looking in every direction, like she was taking notes of her surroundings.

“Who’s that?” Gaz asked, staring out the window. Simon had made a call giving the team a head’s up that he would be on his way, but he didn’t mention that he would be bringing company.

“‘Mare’. The Lieutenant’s Missus .” Price already knew the woman, having met her a few times, but he mostly knew her through stories that Simon would tell that obviously excluded a second party, or else almost nothing he said would be possible. Some other teammates, though, didn’t catch on to that.

“Missus? So he’s married, then?Soap was clueless, unable to fathom that someone would actually settle down with a guy who had once been referred to as the "asshole with the mask." Price nodded his head, a small grin on his face, amused at the obliviousness of the sergeant.

“Why d’you call her ‘Mare’?” Gaz was surprised, but not as nearly as shocked as Soap. He knew those stories were missing a few details, he just couldn’t figure out what they might be. Now he knew.

“‘Cause she’s a right paperwork nightmare.” It wasn’t the many Article 15s that made her paperwork a living hell, but the paperwork to reinstate her because of her many Article 15s that made processing her into the squad almost unbearable.

“Is she joinin’ the force?” The team hadn’t done well with anyone joining the team, only a few successes and multiple betrayals, however, their General seemed to assure them matters were being handled. “No, she’s just helping out. If she joins, I’ll have to fill out some paperwork.”

“Ye dinnae sound too keen on the lass.” Price actually thought she was great. He had only met her a handful of times, but it only took the first meeting to let him know that she was highly intelligent and quite impressive, despite the rumors he heard from her former superiors. “It’s not that. Just worried about what he told her to get her to come here.”

“What d’you mean?” Kamara had agreed to help the team, for sure, even if it took Simon days of convincing her, pushing past the boundaries his wife firmly created, but she had a set rule: no decryption. “She hasn’t been in a unit for years. She refuses to ever enter the military again.”

“Just means she wants tae help her husband. She cares.”

“We’ll see.”

Simon and Kamara entered the building, immediately turning the corner to see Price, Gaz, and Soap, who each kept their positions until the couple made their way to them. Kamara approached first, each of her steps keeping her in front of Simon despite his larger gait, he purposely making sure she stayed in front of him. “John!” she yelled from down the hall, waving and smiling from ear to ear once she had eyes on the man.

“Kamara! Lovely to see you again!” Price widened his arms to embrace the woman once she approached, and she leaned into his embrace, though it didn’t last long because of the chills that shot through her body. She released him as quickly and discreetly as she could without embarrassing either of them, but she locked eyes with Simon, who was saddened at the sight.

“I’m sure you are familiar with Gaz and Soap,” he said, pointing each one of them out as he spoke. Both of them smiled at the woman, her shaking both of their hands, “Ah. Yes, the Falling Man and the Man Always Knocking At Death’s Door.” The team chuckled in unison, Kamara smiling at the men’s enjoyment. “I like her,” Gaz said, Soap nodding his head in agreement.

“I’m glad y’all feel that way, but I’ll only be here long enough to translate the files and then I’ll be on my merry way. Now, where’s the file room?”

Everyone, but one, was confused, giving each other glances and Price sneaking one at Simon — who was trying to avoid all eye contact—, then looking back at Kamara. “I thought Simon would have told you this, but the files are on a flash drive. I can show you to the computer lab.”

“Huh? Oh no. I only work on those things if they're already decrypted.” Kamara had barely touched a coded computer since she was captured, afraid that any wrong decryption could put her at risk again. Even small coding practices to keep her up to speed seemed like a risk. Price could barely get any words out of his mouth, stuttering over the words he couldn’t form. “Aye, it is! We did most o’ the work ourselves,” Soap said, ridding Price of the burden of having to cover up for their friend who looked guilty even behind the mask.

“What about the rest of the work?” Kamara was smart, able to read through every word that people told her when they seemed to be covering up the full truth, though sometimes that skill seemed useless when she looked past her instincts for the sake of her husband. “Just the translating and deciphering left,” he said, looking at Ghost, Price and Gaz, staying quiet to keep out the growing tension. Kamara took a sly look at Ghost and his comrades, coming to the conclusion that someone was lying — but it’s her husband. There was no way he’d lie to her, so she ignored it for her sanity’s sake. “Alright, then. Lead the way.”

Kamara followed Soap to the lab, Simon staying back and being obviously scolded for his actions, though their voices were too low for Kamara to hear anything. It’s nothing, she thought, hoping that the conversation between the stakes-faced men was because of the stresses of their mission.

The computer lab was by authorized access only, clearly not the lab used for the other soldiers that roamed around on base. The computer that Soap appointed Kamara to was old, but obviously still very functional. He patted Kamara on her shoulder, sending another round of goosebumps up her spine, after he turned the computer on to reveal the not even half finished encryption. Wanting to be clear of the woman before she noticed, Soap tried to leave the room, but he was too slow. “Hey, Soap, if you don’t mind, could you bring Simon in here, please? I would like some company. It helps me work better.”

“Nae bother,” he answered, a forced smile crossing his face, his pace quickening once he had his back turned towards the seemingly calm woman.

Soap kept his eyes on the ground when he left, pacing quickly to his friend, who seemed to know that he was in trouble. “The missus is wanton’ ye for company. Aw the best,” he said as he gave Simon two pats of condolences to his chest. The team could practically hear Simon’s heart drop to the floor and, although it was expected, an angry wife was still scary, no matter how predicted.

He entered the room to see Kamara sitting at the computer, elbow on the table and her legs crossed. The noise from the tapping of her fingers adding to the tension that filled the room, Simon feeling his impending doom. “Simon.”

“Kamara.” Already, he knew he had chosen the wrong thing to say, having a feeling that it would have been better to say nothing at all. Her eyes felt like they were placing shards in him, ripping him apart without saying a word. “Would you like to explain to me why I’m looking at an encrypted file?” Not really.

He was silent, letting his body speak for itself. His guilt filled the air and could practically be smelled from a mile away. He kept his gaze on Kamara, struggling to keep eye contact, and while he hoped to win the staring game, he faltered, his gaze moving to the ground. His wife stood up, using her legs to brace herself to be in front of her husband, crossing her arms as she peered up at him.

“Nothing to say? Alright…” She disguised her anger in her calm tone, yet Simon could still hear the simmer in her voice. “If you knew that I was only willing to work with you if I didn’t have to do any decryption, why the fuck—,”

“M’sorry.” Every word he said seemed wrong and the words he thought seemed even worse. Fumes practically burst out of Kamara’s ears as she began pacing in front of Simon, who stayed in one place, his eyes following her. He took his mask off before he entered the room, so his face told Kamara all she needed to know. He was wrong, and he knew it. She laughed hysterically, almost frightening her husband. “You’re sorry? That’s it? You lied to me. I trusted you!” Her voice gradually got louder, her now directly in front of Simon.

“And you can still trust me. I swear, but we need you, Mar, please,” he pleaded, reaching out to his wife, who ducked away from his touch. “You know I don’t code anymore. I translate and decipher whatever text and language that is given to me. That’s it.” Her voice was lower, possibly her realizing that she had begun to yell at someone she loved, or it was her going over conversations she had with her daughter about only yelling in reasonable situations. This was very reasonable.

“Code is a language…technically.” It was not the time nor place for any humor, but Simon hoped that it could at least ease some of the tension, but he knew those efforts were no good once his wife’s glare nearly killed him.

“Alright, okay. Listen, the truth is… we’ve gone through dozens of programmers and cyber operators. None of them have been able to break through the crypt, and we need to know what’s on it.” He was forcing his voice to not crack. Simon was not an easy man to break, but love opens up emotions that he didn’t know he had, that he had to be reminded of. “If so many other qualified people failed, what the hell makes you think I can do it? I couldn’t do it before and I can’t do it now. In fact, the last time I tried, I got our team killed, or did you forget that?” The tears in her eyes were evident, but she fixed her gaze on the dimmed light above them, ridding her eyes of the puddles that threatened to spill.

Finally, he heard her say it, even though it’s not like he didn’t know. She was still blaming herself. He couldn’t expect her to forgive her actions within the matter of a few days, but he hoped his affirmations would last longer, but it seemed like Kamara’s self-blame got worse by the day. “I could never forget. In fact, I remember all of it, including the fact that it wasn’t your fault.”

“My code got our location leaked, the names of families with it. Our team died because I made an error during a time when perfection was needed. Everyone was relying on me because I was the one who did everything perfectly, and the one time it mattered, I couldn’t do it. I failed. It was my fault.” Her voice cracked more as she spoke, the light no longer able to take away the pain that flooded her face with tears. The day would forever haunt her, not only because her team died, but because she was supposed to take the lead and her leadership led her team to Death’s door, and he answered.

Simon didn’t know what else to do. What more forgiveness can you give to someone who can’t forgive themselves? However, he wouldn’t let his own doubts stop him from trying. He had come so far to heal from the atrocities he had endured in Mexico, just to be setback when he was imprisoned again, though the torture he endured was different. He may not have physical scars to prove his time spent in hell, but he had the constant playback in his head every time he saw Kamara.

“Mar, there’s nothing to prove that.”

“And there’s also nothing to prove that it wasn’t my fault. So I’d rather feel and know what I’ve done than-,” she lost her balance, catching herself on her back foot, her tears now gliding down her face, “than go around telling myself I didn’t do it just to make my life worth living.”

“That’s not fair to yourself.”

“You wanna know what’s not fair? The fact that our team is dead. They had families. Children. People who loved them. It should have been me. I didn’t have anyone waiting for me to come home. I didn’t have kids. No parents, no family—,”

“And neither did I. You sayin’ I should’ve died back then, too?” The question stopped Kamara in her tracks, the first time since the beginning of their argument that she had to think about what she said. It felt like every answer she came up with sat heavier on her heart. To tell the truth would mean she had to admit it to herself and to lie would mean she would do the one thing she told herself she wouldn’t do.

“Yes.” No matter how many times she wiped her tears, even more replaced them.

“You don’t mean that.” He knew she meant it. It was more to convince himself that she didn’t. One thing he knew about his wife was that she didn’t lie, only when needed. Their relationship was supposed to be built on truth, something he broke. “Yes, Simon, I do. Because if you died, no one was waiting for you. They would have killed me, too, so I didn’t matter. There was no one waiting for us back home.” Her words were piercing through him just like her eyes, no matter how glassy they were. He couldn’t be mad at her for telling the truth, but he couldn’t deny the anger that his wife’s words brought him. Kamara could practically see Simon’s blood boiling–this time she lost the staring contest–the silence filling the room, and now she was on the other side of the fence.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” The immediate regret was overpowering her anger, her body no longer tense with frustration, but with the worries of what Simon would say next. Whether she would prefer for him to be giving her the death stare with or without the mask, she couldn't tell, because both options seemed just as terrifying. Simon wasn’t one to hit her or yell at her. Sometimes, his glare was all she needed to know to back down. She waited for her husband to say something, if he said anything. The silence felt like knives cutting through her soul. “Please…Simon…say something..” Anything.

She tugged on his arm, but all he could do was glare at her, and when he felt she had enough, he turned his gaze ahead of him. “Will you be able to do the encryption or not?” His voice was firm, unshaken, closer to the voice he used on the field rather than with his wife. “Simon, don’t do that. Please.” He was shutting down. Shutting her out. If there was anything she hated more than Simon lying to her–which he seldomly did and if he did, it was playfully–it was when he shut her out, his emotions too overwhelming for him to express.

“Then what do you want me to do, Kamara?”

“Talk to me…that’s all…tell me why you lied. Why is this mission so important to you? Why can’t you just…let it go?” Her tone was soft, much softer than when the argument first began.

“‘Cause…”

“Because what? Simon, just tell me! I am begging you!” It was rare that Kamara ever pleaded. She had never even begged for her own life, let alone beg for Simon to tell her something, at least not in this type of circumstance.

“I can’t, love.” His voice returned to the one she knew so well, soft but obviously still filled with some anger. Kamara could feel her body tense up again, her fists clenching and her breaths becoming more shallow. In the past, Kamara had a reputation for throwing objects and knocking over the first thing she saw whenever she was angry, which was another reason she would be written up. Her relationship with Simon had allowed her to be more aware of her actions, containing her urge to become more reckless than her words.

“Why not?” He hadn’t answered. She took a deep breath, her anger nearly overwhelming her. “Simon, you are gone for weeks, mostly months at a time. We have had Ellie for three, nearly four years and you have seen her half of that time–,”

“Mar–,”

“She is our kid and she looks up to you. She wants to save people, too, just like her father, but you have to be there to teach her that family comes first. You are not representing the one thing we have tried to teach her!” Kamara's yells filled the empty halls, even though none of her words could be made out as they echoed.

“M’sorry.” It felt like she was going in circles, unable to get anywhere with the man. Usually, he’d have faltered by now. By this point, she didn’t care about the code or the drive. She wanted her family back, but she was getting tired of fighting.

“Alright, then. But you all don’t need me. Y’all are perfectly capable of finding other resources.” She forced a grin on her face, despite the tears that stained it, her eyes no longer teary but turned doe. “Come on, I don’t have to go back to Joel’s by myself tonight. You can come with me. I’m sure Price would understand.” His arm stayed sturdy as she gently pulled on it in an effort to get the stoic man to do something, anything, other than stand and constantly apologize.

“I can’t do that, love.” Her face immediately dropped, her eyebrows furrowing and her lips turning downward. Simon stumbled backward after Kamara shoved him, her touch on his touch ruminating for a few seconds before leaving. “Why not? Why the hell not? What is it? Are we not enough for you? Is that what it is?” Her voice was louder than it had ever been, Simon certain his team could hear, but he didn’t want to tell her to keep it down or to calm down. She had a right to be angry with him and he knew that.

“You two are everything to me. You both are my world. I wouldn’t be here without you or Ellie.”

“Then what is it? Is it your father? Because you’re not like him,” she began, going on to list the many reasons she believed Simon was not like the drunk. While it was relieving to hear, she still was missing the point.

“That's not it.”

“Then what the hell is it, damnit? Why is this case so goddamn important to you that you can’t come home to your family?”

“‘Cause of what he did to you!” Kamara was stunned, taking a step back from the first time Simon had truly yelled at her. Her eyebrows crinkled and her eyes searched the room, hoping to find an answer to what the hell he was talking about. They were both trapped together in that cell. However, her memories briefly started to come in, and she realized the guilt the man had held onto for all these years.

She forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes, hoping it’ll be enough for the man, “Simon, I’m fine…I’ve moved past it.”

“No, you haven’t, and you know full well you haven’t. Don’t try to lie to me–,” an ironic thing to say, he knew. “ You avoid the mirror like it’s the bloody plague. Loud noises still make you jump. You still flinch when I try to touch you. For God’s sake, hearing the shower run still gives you a panic attack. You’re not fine.” Kamara’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears and her shoulders drooped with a weight that seemed impossible to carry. “Look… I’m okay. It was only a few months and I hardly remember most of it. I have been through years of worse.”

“Did that worse include being drugged and sold, too?” No. Despite what she told him about the Red Room, he knew just as well as she did that those few months were insufferable, making the Red Room seem like a playground. The only thing her imprisonment and the Red Room had in common was that she constantly received reminders that her body was not her own. “It wasn’t that bad…the drugs made me forget most of it…besides, some of them were quite nice.”

Clenching his jaw and rolling his eyes at the woman, who could feel her husband’s burning stare beaming down on her, almost embarrassed that she made the irreverent comment. She was only trying to lessen his pain; humor was always how they pushed past their traumas, but the time for it was miscalculated.

The quietness was eerie, so Kamara decided to continue to attempt to ease his burdens. “How many times do I have to say it? I am fine. I’m sorry that you understand the things I went through. I wish you didn’t, but I can promise you, I’m alright. I don’t even think about it even more.” She was lying through her teeth and she knew it, but it was a needed lie she had to tell her husband and herself.

Simon’s silence was always scary, especially when Kamara couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It was obvious he was hurting. He was worried for her. And above all, he yearned for her past self, not only because he missed her contagious laugh and how she used to walk with her head high, but because he knew her past self would be disappointed in her present self. Before, she found every reason to smile no matter her circumstance–something he loved about her–and now, it seemed like she prohibited her freedom to smile as if she needed permission to do so.

“You wanna know the worst part about it?” The grave man had finally chosen to speak, ridding Kamara of any jests she had left, leaving her tongue-tied.

“I couldn’t do anything other than watch them strip you down and drag you away,” he began, Kamara’s eyes immediately becoming glassy and her vision blurry. “I could hear your screams until your voice went hoarse. I could hear them whip you. Beat you. Rape you.”

Any words that Kamara thought she could muster up had disappeared, her brain unable to come up with any response that could relieve the trauma her love had gone through, but ‌there was nothing she could say. The only thing she could do was accompany him in his pain, making sure he wasn’t alone in it, filling the space he thought would forever be empty.

“You dun’t remember, but I do, ‘cause they made me watch. It didn’t matter how much I closed my eyes, ‘cause I could still hear everything…and there was nothing I could do about it.” The days were blurry to her, constantly high on whatever the drug was for the week, her body never gaining tolerance for any of them. The pools in her eyes overflowed, but she tried to wipe away the streaks quickly painting her face.

“They might not have dragged a knife across my skin or beat me half to death, but they knew that just hearing and watching you was torture enough. Even when we finally made it out, it was like you weren’t really there. I thought the detox would kill you, but it didn’t, and that’s when I thought there was still a sliver of fight left in you.” What came next was what really broke her. This was the first time Simon had expressed any grievance for the situation, having never spoken about what had occurred three years prior.

“But then I found you—your wrists slit, bleeding out in the cabin, eyes completely dark, the light gone until we found Ellie. Even then, it’s not nearly what it used to be. I’m reminded of what happened every time I see that scar on your face and every time I try to hold your hand.”

There was nothing more that she felt she could do. What happened…happened. It was over and she wanted it to all be behind them. “None of that was your fault,” it seemed like they were battling who to blame even though the answer was clear, “I’m deeply sorry you had to endure that pain. I didn’t know that. Things like that don’t bring a spark to anyone unless they’re insane.” She thought she had avoided Simon being tortured, but there were factors she obviously didn’t consider, but she tried, and there was nothing she could do about it now other than be grateful he’s alive. “And sure, maybe I’m not as…joyful or happy as I used to be, but at least I am trying. I am here,” her voice shaking and her volume gradually increasing as she spoke, her rage coming over her again. “I make sure I am here for you! I make sure I am here for Ellie! And guess who is here for me? No one!” It wasn’t fair to Simon, having to keep everything bottled up, but it also wasn’t fair that the one person Kamara wanted–hell, needed–was choosing to not be by her side because she wasn’t the same.

“Mar—,”

“You’re supposed to be the one who is here for me, just like I will and have always been there for you! But now, I know you can hardly stand to look at me so it makes more sense.” It didn’t help that she could hardly look at herself because she was also reminded not of what they did to her, but what they took from her.

“That’s not what I said,” he calmly said. The wavering guilt fell upon Simon, knowing Kamara couldn’t be responsible for the burdens he did not communicate; she thought she had prevented him of that burden years ago, but not all burdens can be physically carried.

“Basically, what you said.” She had lowered her voice, it was still quivering but more controlled. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what? What am I being like? What do you want me to be like? Why am I not enough?” It was obvious Kamara was officially breaking, not upset that she was lied to, but because she believed a part of her died in that cell, just to be left with the parts bearing untold secrets. Simon didn’t know how to answer the questions and, quite frankly, he didn’t know if he was supposed to, so he answered it the best way he could.

He cupped her face that was covered in tears, which he gracefully stroked away with his rough thumbs, “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. You are more than enough. Everything you’re doing is enough. You’re amazing.” He allowed Kamara to fall into his arms, her steady flow of tears staining his chest. “It was selfish of me to say that. I love you no matter who you are and what you do. I will always love you and I will always be by your side no matter the circumstances. I swear to you.”

“So then come home…please…” Her tears seemingly ceased. All she wanted was for Simon to be by her side and not have to spend each moment with him wondering if it would be her last.

“I will,” he replied, feeling Kamara’s chest stop and her breath hitching,“after this mission.” The last tear that Kamara hoped wouldn’t fall made its way to Simon’s shirt, her heart shattering just like it did every time Simon left her.

“I hate you,” she whispered. Simon’s hand found its way to the back of the whimpering woman’s head. “I know,” he said. He knew his wife didn’t mean it, but it pained him knowing that she loved him so much that she hated him for it, and his love was just as strong. Love was the reason he hadn’t resigned, because when he went home, it meant that he was forced to face the fact that he was an option. That someone chose to love him and wait for him, and that scared him the most, but he could no longer let his fear hurt the person who loved him, no matter his past.

“But I promise you, after this mission, I’m done. I’ll come home. I won’t miss a single night next to you. I’ll cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. I’ll tuck Ellie in every night. I’ll even help her with the stupid homework you give her–,” Usually, Simon’s promises of coming home fell through, making the rest of his promises seem like just another set of words, but none of them had ever sounded as earnest as the one he was now making, filling a void in Kamara’s chest that none of his other pledges ever did.

Previous Chapter

I have an extended ending for chapter two in the works.

[sailingshipz09]

Because @stellariders & @chicagofires are fueling this fire & I have very minimal self-control, here we fucking go.

First, let me preface this rant with the following context. This situation triggers me so much because I am a WOC in a predominantly male industry so I see myself in the struggles that Stella has been exposed to & it's simply not fucking fair. So this take will be framed from my POV...Perspective & Perception. The fact that I have to preface this rant with the above statement instead of just saying how I feel is exactly the fucking point I'm about to make 🙃

(Grab a snacky snack)

"You have to be what?"... you have to be 2x as good, work 3x as hard, to receive HALF of the recognition, praise, grace, & chances. They can fail upwards or even have a promotion fall into their hands "cough cough" whereas you have to drive yourself up the wall just to prove that you're worthy of the opportunity. Because ONE mistake can & will follow you throughout your entire career. & that constantly plays in the background, like static when it comes to Stella Kidd. & I feel like Stella knows that, which is why she came in, did her job, did it damn good, & proved that she can hang with the best of the best at 51 but it was never quite enough for some people & i wonder why. There's never been a moment where she has been above reproach or criticism. How can she be out of fear of being labeled difficult, aggressive, or hard to work with as the only "broad on truck" & let me be clear I'm using that term & phrase because thats exactly what Hermann said when she joined truck 81.... yuck! Anyway, how can she make a mistake when the few mistakes she has made have followed her. She fucked up in 7x02 why is it S10 & Casey if implying she can't come with him when Severide & squad 3 were under water because she might be to emotionally charged. (LOL excuse me but didnt you jump out of a moving firetruck when your poor Sylvie was hurt, hypocrite much?) Didn't see Brett or Violet volunteering to hop on the boat & Stella is a trained paramedic or EMT so she would have been an asset. She messed up in S8 so why did they just take away her teaching at the academy versus addressing burnout & how to prioritize her time to be able to do both, because she was & is fully capable of doing both she just needed direction & support...She made a mistake in S10 by going mia & she apologized profusely for it but it still felt like Kelly held back & almost iced her out a bit longer than necessary. But in S9 when he royally messed up she immediately took him back & told him she wasn't going to let him get away again even though it wasn't her fault, he iced her out to begin with. Oh not even touching on the fact that him icing her out in S9 absolutely fucked with her confidence in her abilities to the point she almost skipped out on the LT exam.....🙂

When her CAPTAIN no less saw her burning it on all fronts in S8.. what did he do? How did he act? Was it with compassion or care, or did he get snappy & reprimand? Did Stella argue, talk back, or provide excuses? No, instead, she took accountability for her actions & tried to do better even though she KNEW she was drowning & overwhelmed. Instead of creating a safe space for her to be like hey captain, I'm struggling prioritizing how you manage she went internal & pushed herself to the brink of self exhaustion that she could have killed herself or someone else.

So let's talk about how Gallo on the other hand came in & had his own share of potential life or death mistakes with Casey & how he was down right disrespectful to Pelham & how he was inappropriate in the attitude & tone he took with Stella when questioning her about Carver. I never saw fucking reddit think pieces on how disrespectful, cocky, arrogant or annoying he was. Nope! He got a pass & a slap on the wrist time & time again. Casey even sat down with him, bought him a beer & they talked it out. So why couldnt Stella get that same grace? Yet when Stella very respectfully told Pelham "hey hesrd you are a great ff but I'll have to see for myself" parts of this fandom erupted, calling her all types of jealousy , entitled, etc. Never once saw Stella defy Pelhams commands or undermined his leadership. I dis however see her lay her busding career down on the line for a man she barely knew but did it because it was the right thing to do.

Casey was ready to cut Gallo loose on HIS FIRST fuck up after Boden told Casey he didn't want him at 51 because he was reckless. Had it not been for Boden providing Casey with Gallos' backstory, he would have cut him loose, i believe. Funny how Boden had to tell Casey about Gallos family history but Stella took it upon herself to try & work with & get to know Carvers backstory AFTER Boden, her mentor, her father figure & CHIEF told her who her next replacement on 51 was going to be.... Funny how the most turnover truck saw in 10 years was Jimmy, Gabby (chose not to return to truck) & Otis yet Stella is 2.5-3 years in & she's had to navigate through Mason, Gallo, Gibson, while dealing with shit from Carver & Damon.... you see the picture I'm painting here!?

Correct me if I'm wrong, but outside of Carver... who else has Boden forced his officers to take on their rig when they were explicitly against it..... I'll wait. Oh, but because "he's 51 material," you have to find a way to manage his bullshit & if you rewatch S11, Carver had a lot of BS. And I know we like Carver now because they abandoned the I have a crush on my married LT storyline, but I had actually forgotten how bad he was as an EMPLOYEE!

He is hot tempered & showcased high levels of aggression & anger in the workplace. Imagine Stella getting upset & punching or throwing things. Yelling at her LT or engaging in behavior that would have landed her in jail. Did we forget that this incident in S12 is Carvers' second physical altercation with a civilian... Never thought I'd be referencing Emma Jacobs, but one incident in the file is a hiccup.. two looks like a pattern of him not being able to control his temperament. We've seen Stella drunk ONE time because she'd been transferred out & they acted like she was being biligerant (go back & watch the scene & just look at how they're looking at her). Carver, however, is allowed to get drunk thrown in jail, call his LT to bail him out & Stella's supposed to what? Take it, leave her damn job in the middle of the night just for him to not be apologetic at ALL & then tell her oh this needs to stay been us. LMAO EXCUSE ME WHAT!!!!? & it would be one thing if this was a one off but AGAIN nope later in the SAME season he didn't just get himself into a physical altercation but dragged Gallo, Mouch, & Ritter into it also because he refused to REGULATE & walk away.

But wait, there's more. Remember how he went off on his LT in the locker room because he was upset & then proceeded to get drunk & call out on one shift & NCNS on another leaving her with no time to find a decent floater... & even after Kelly explicitly told her that she would lose no respect if she cut him loose, what did she do... she went to his apartment to check on him, make sure he was alright & gave him ANOTHER chance. Matt Casey, Kelly Severide & Hermann would absolutely never & I'm not saying it's a bad thing that Stella gave him so many chances what I'm saying is i don't feel like her reasoning behind all the chances were actually her own but more so rooted in not wanting it to be a failure on her part in the eyes of Boden. & that for me is problematic as hell.

Even in S12... for Carver to get into that restaurant brawl & immediately take furlough afterwards was just such a cowardly move because here you are AGAIN leaving your LT high & fucking dry on truck during a crirical time no less with Boden being up for that promotion!

Now, moving into this Damon storyline, I'm going to reserve a majority of my thoughts until we actually get to see it play out. However, one thing in the finale that was alarming to me was Stella's conversation with Violet. I interpreted it as Stella had all intentions of cutting Damon loose. He was a floater, she owed that man no loyalty & she specifically said she was in no rush to lock anyone down permanently after the Gibson issue. However, again, it felt like Stella decided to keep him on longer because of other external factors. ie: Carver leaving her high & dry again & Kelly seemed to like him. Those to me aren't good enough reasons because she's not making decisions that honor her experience with this man rather than those around her.

The reality is that Stella could have lost her command or even worse because of that brawl. That man could have reported them to the CFD brass, called the cops, blasted them in the media & SUED the CFD. & the first thing they would have asked Stella was why she did not have control of the scene or her direct reports. They would have hung this on her & the old hags at CFD would have been like see this is why women shouldn't be officers." Blah blah blah. The repeecussions would have been so much greater for Stella & could have derailed what shes worked so hard for & the fact that Carver & Damon don't get that irks me because they should have NEVER put her in that position to begin with. You don't bring reproach on your leader especially when your leader has run through walls to protect you, bailed you out of jail, hell thrown herself on top of you to shield you from a blast, etc.

& so in conclusion my next gripe is with the writers & showrunners because I wonder if they know. I wonder if they know & they're choosing to reinforce these stereotypical experiences without effectively addressing them. I wonder if they know that they're not romanticizing it all & that its not cute or funny but infuriating that it feeds a part of this fanbase that's actually disgusting & rooted in misogyny. Or maybe they don't know & it's a mixture of unconscious bias/ ignorance.

Regardless, it's 2024 & I'm tired of it! 😫 I'm all for showing the reality & challenges that women or woc in the CFD face on a day to day but I feel like why not use it as a platform to show that just because it's embedded in the systems doesn't make it right nor does it make a requirement for Stella or any other female officer to have to endure the shit. She should be able to fucking fire or discipline Carver, Damon or whoever on HER rig without being questioned on whether or not her emotions or personal experiences are clouding her judgment because she's earned that right. She studied, she worked her ass off, she took the test, she passed & she's the LT. She shouldn't have to explain why she gave Carver or anyone certain assignments because guess what? No assignment is too big or small when lives are on the line, right? She shouldn't have to feel obligated to keep Damon on her rig just because now he's her long lost BOL that withheld the truth from her his LT & even when he decided to come clean it wasn't to her his LT. I am praying that is not the narrative they push in S13 but tbh I wouldn't be surprised because they've already set the groundwork for it. She shouldn't have to explain her reasoning or endure another year of unprofessionalism on her rig all because the patriarchy will get upset that a woman is leading/ discipling men. Reading the comments on how Stella was disciplined then in the finale really bothered me because yall can't be serious! Stella had ever right to be upset, to express that frustration & disappointment with them because at the end of the day, that was her scene, her fire fighters & her responsibility as the officer in charge.

It feels like the men on the show are allowed to have their emotions, their traumas, their demons & it be brushed over or romanticized with little to no consequence. However, that same grace is not extended to the strong female leads that have just as much trauma, pain, or demons. They vilified Gabby for hers & they try to do the same to Stella. it's not fair because if they were males, we wouldn't have the conversations of "Stella leading Grant on" "Stella putting people lives in danger" or "Stella's on a powe trip & has let her rank go to her head"

I know that was a lot & if you made it to the end of this rage rant, thank you. This has been something I've been sitting on since S11 & tbh it feels good to get it out! 🥹

[air--so--sweet]

'He was pretty ruthless in our performance reviews.'

'He always gave me five stars.'

What are people's interpretations of this scene because I can't work it out. From what we see Five had a good hold of his powers as a kid so it's feasible that he deserved five stars but I highly doubt the scores Reggie gave the kids were based on what they deserved. Alternate Reggie himself says,'I made you children feel small, confused about your own powers so that I could control you.' So why give Five a good review, especially when he was such an imperious, cocky little shit?

Is it that he was so arrogant he wouldn't have believed a lower score from Reggie and just ignored it and so he gave him five stars to motivate him as he would want to always maintain that level? Was recognising Five's talent a better and more reliable way of ensuring his compliance over trying to break him down? After all, when we see teenage Five get told he can't do something, his response is to, in fact, go and do that very thing.

Or was it more nefarious? Reggie realised Five's arrogance and self assuredness meant he could never control him in the same way he could the others and therefore believed him a liability. He couldn't do to him as he had to Viktor because Five and his siblings were all old enough to remember his powers and also having debuted those in the outside world knew about Five too. So instead, he decided to play into Five's arrogance, told him he was brilliant until he wanted to try time travel, and then firmly told him no, that he wasn't good enough. Because he wasn't wrong that time travel was dangerous but it would be a useful power for one of the Umbrellas to have, he could have started Five small, as he tells Five in the '60s, a lot can change in a matter of seconds. So could it be that he knew a denial would lead to Five choosing to attempt to prove him wrong and, as a result get lost in the future? Maybe he didn't know about him getting lost in the apocalypse but he knew Five's powers were volatile enough that he might not be able to get back, meaning trying to control him is no longer a concern for Reggie. Or maybe he thought Five would come back but with difficulty, leading to a loss in confidence, allowing him to make him feel small like the others.

Or maybe it was something else completely? I really can't tell, so would love others thoughts on this.

[simpingforcys]

King Candy/Turbo x Reader (Partly NSFW)

After the king had (accidentally) revealed to you his true form as the Turbo Time game protagonist character Turbo, it took you a while to come terms with it even after hearing the dastardly (and frankly egotistical and petty) reasons he did so.

He begged you (while trying not to yell or even lose his cool) to not tell anyone, but maybe he was just scared anyone would find out the method of HOW you came to find his secret.

(He got a little too passionate during one of your visits to his kingly chambers and just before the finish, his body glitched into tiny squares with 1’s and 0’s and you opened your dazed eyes to see a pale grey man moaning your name. Needless to say, the mood immensely shifted after that).

You promised not to. But it didn’t stop you from being just a bit afraid after knowing what he was capable of. The once goofy yet sweet eccentric king you had met had actually been the arcade legend of danger, Turbo, who’s name struck fear into people’s codes just by muttering it.

You had to admit. It was strange hearing the voice of your beloved king coming from a short grey jumpsuit-wearing man whose face always seemed in between either beyond stressed or beyond pissed. The yellow eyes and teeth didn’t help, but you had to convince yourself underneath it was still your adoring candy monarch who would invite you for sugar tea and kissed your hand whether you met up or had to say goodbyes to go to your respective games.

Right?

It didn’t take you long to notice and realize King Candy and Turbo were two different personalities depending who was in control.

When he took the appearance and demeanor of the candy-themed king, he was, for lack of a better word, absolutely goofy. He was excitable, silly, benevolent with his subjects but still firm when he had to with threats and disagreements, but still kept the appearance of a just king that looked after his kingdom.

Turbo, on the other hand…

He was prideful in himself, and very open about it. Boasting about his multiple wins in the random roster races. He was more cocky and slightly arrogant of his status, as stolen as it was. His short temper was, well, even shorter, bursting when he felt threatened and immediately plot revenge, as childish as he may have sounded sometimes. You started to think how much was Candy actually holding back during all those races and trials.

On top of that, you noticed Turbo was much more.. expressive whenever you two were together. King Candy was always affectionate with you, but Turbo took his partner like you were his possession. His winning prize. His trophy. If he wanted a kiss or a cuddle or wanted you pinned against his still sweets-themed king-sized spongecake bed, he would ask, not wait for an answer and have it. It was almost like being in his true form made him more comfortable and overall, confident to be himself.

And yet when he’d calm down and have you wrapped securely around his arms, you could almost make out a content smile on his grey lips. It was different than his usual smirks even after having marked you all over your neck and chest only minutes prior.

Instinctively, your hand rose to caress his white helmet, patting it like you would have done to Candy’s head after the act.

“…Thank you…”

That didn’t come from you.

You waited but it didn’t come again.

Instead you only felt a hand move down from your waist to your thigh, not to grab it or squeeze it, but to caress your skin as he held you close. And then you understood.

You couldn’t imagine how long he had to hide his true self after escaping his own game. He couldn’t tell it to anyone. He couldn’t show anyone.

He couldn’t be himself around anyone. Except for you.

You wouldn’t admit it now, but in a way, you always thought he was cute after hearing him moaning your name.

[snootlestheangel]

Cheers to the Unknown Pt.4

Monster/cryptid au ft. Just A Dude!Ghost; canon-divergent, alternate universe. More details here (parts are not a coherent story necessarily just scenarios as they come to me !subject to change!;all tagged under "cheers to the unknown") TW: language; being subjugated to the most precious Siren to ever Exist; self-deprecating statements; some sexual themes (Ghost is a monster fucker, okay y'all?); angst

Some Siren!Gaz to Soothe the Soul (And Official SoapGhost)

Random, yet necessary information dump on Gaz's siren form! In the initial post (link is 'more details here' above), I briefly mentioned that Gaz's siren form is more shark-like than just a typical "mermaid" type. So, here's a quick, more in-depth analysis of what this means! (if you can't tell I'm autistic and like sharks after this, you should get your eyes tested /jk)

Gaz has a lot of extra sensory organs to make him an elite predator! One of these organs are known as lateral line system. These appear in both his human and full Siren form as small ridges that run (vertically, so like top to bottom of his body) along his sides, including his neck and onto his legs, stopping just above his knees. There are very small ones that make it seem like his cheek bones are just sharper than the average person. This "line" system helps him detect pressure changes around him, making him very good at knowing when Ghost enters a room because he senses the change! He's just enough of a snarky little shit to not say anything to anyone else or to immediately rat the lieutenant out.

Also on his face, but only in his Siren form, are ampullae of Lorenzini, which are electroreceptors! These help with sensing the energies other creatures give off, as sometimes being a water based predator provides different challenges! Additionally, when in the water aka going Siren, he has an additional protective eyelid that still allows for great vision, but keeps his eyes safe! (I feel it's important to let everyone know I literally happy clapped after writing all this XD)

After all the time he's spent with the 141 and around a large variety of non-human species, one would think Ghost had seen it all. That Ghost wasn't phased by anything anyone did.

But after the one time Gaz used his Siren voice on Ghost in order to get out of recruit duty, he made sure to keep his guard up.

Granted, in Gaz's defence, voice is a poor term to describe the mystical power Sirens possess that allows them to influence their intended target however they please. Gaz, in this particular case, had merely just asked Ghost if he could take the next week instead of this one, and at first nothing had seemed wrong to Ghost. But then the sergeant walked away, flashing a wide grin with eerily perfect teeth and Ghost just knew. He knew that switching weeks had been banned by Price after an argument got physical. He knew that the answer to Gaz's question should have been no, but instead he had reluctantly agreed to swap weeks with him. Ghost knew the little shit had basically batted his pretty eyes and instantly persuaded his hardened lieutenant into bending a rule.

Ghost always admired Gaz, from the moment they met back when Gaz was only a corporal to now. He admired the man's confidence without seeming cocky or arrogant. He admired Gaz's intelligence, his cunning and snarky nature. While he and Soap had banter with each other, Ghost often found himself in what Soap lovingly dubbed "sass-offs" with the siren. The two would get caught up in being smart-asses with the captain, almost trying to outdo the other. Ghost never could tell if Gaz was doing this to mess with him or not.

But the more time he spent with Gaz, the more Ghost couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Ghost knew that deep down his jealousy was rooted in the natural way a siren's presence affects humans, but he never could stop himself from letting it bother him. Ghost wanted to blame the jealousy on himself. He wanted to be jealous not by natural causes, but because of his own insecurities. At least then, he would have no reason to hate Gaz.

It's not that Ghost hates Gaz, in fact it's the opposite. He admires and trusts Gaz, he would never want to hurt him, much less hold anything against him for simply existing.

He's jealous because Gaz is so effortlessly gorgeous. It's a silly thing for Ghost to be jealous over, especially considering the other is indeed a Siren, but it doesn't change a damn thing. Ghost is jealous of Gaz's inherent charm, the way he can win people over without ever using his Siren abilities against them. Sometimes, he wished so desperately to be like Gaz that he felt his heart slowly melt into a painful desire to love Gaz.

But above all, he was jealous of Gaz's relationship with Soap. They weren't together, at least not to Ghost's knowledge, but then again, neither were he and Soap. That didn't change the fact that Soap was always seen pressed against Gaz, each doing their own thing during downtime. Didn't change the way the two were constantly talking and laughing together, so effortlessly together on base whether it be training or filling out paperwork. Ghost was jealous because he wished it were him there next to Soap. He wished it were him being the nymph's grounding presence. And he would've rather burn than ever admit that sometimes, most of the time, he wanted nothing more than to be right there between both of them. Safe, content, and loved so effortlessly it was almost second nature.

What a fool he was for thinking he would never get that.

~~~~~

It was difficult for Ghost to ever sneak up and catch the sergeants by surprise, as both were very in tune with the world around them. But, there were times where corners and walls became his friends, and he would use them to hide when he didn't want to interrupt. One of these times he stopped to listen as he heard his name suddenly spoken by a familiar Scottish voice.

"As if Ghost feels the same." Soap snapped, assumingly at Gaz. Ghost frowned, leaning closer against the wall to hear. He didn't know what they were talking about, but clearly it was a rather heavy topic given the aggression in Soap's words.

"You don't ask him out, I will." Gaz spoke, golden confidence practically dripping with each word. Ghost couldn't breathe. He couldn't tell if Gaz was being serious, if Soap genuinely reciprocated the feelings Ghost had, if Gaz even felt that way.

"You'll ask him out for me or ask him out yerself?" Soap asked, suddenly a lot less angered than before. Ghost tried to still his beating heart for just a moment, afraid the racket it was making could be sensed by the sergeants.

"Well, I was going to ask for you, but honestly? Might just have to take him for myself." Gaz replied, and the gentle, yet taunting way he spoke the words twisted a warm knot into Ghost's stomach.

"Nope! Yer nae gettin' him first!" Soap shouted, and Gaz let out a loud laugh as he was tackled by Soap. Ghost stepped quickly away from the doorway, hoping to pretend as if he were never there. He walked to the end of the hall he came from, took a deep breath, and turned back around. He needed to get to his office, and in order to do so, he needed to pass the sergeants.

He can do this.

"Hey, Ghost!" Soap said, quite literally lighting up as he stepped around the corner and almost directly into Ghost. A soft blue glow emanated from the sergeant's chest, and it gave him such an appearance that Ghost would liken to an angel, an otherworldly creature made of light and beauty.

He cannot do this.

"Johnny." Ghost stiffly replied, and Soap's smile faltered slightly.

"Yeh nervous or somethin'?" Soap was taunting him. Did he know? Is this all some cruel joke to make him more miserable than he already was? Ghost should have known. He should have known better than to be close to anyone, to allow himself to be vulnerable with people he supposedly trusts.

"Dunno. Do you think I am?" Ghost calmly replied, doing his best to ignore the way his hands trembled ever so slightly. The familiar, yet almost comforting sensation of the hairs on his arms standing up swam over him as Soap took a step closer, grin morphing into something cocky as he tilted his head.

"Yer heart certainly says so." Fuck.

"Oh yeah? Think you know why?" Ghost asked, practically egging on the nymph. Soap chuckled, the sound deep in his chest and resonating in a way that felt like thunder.

"I think yer nervous cause o' me, Lt." Soap purred as he invaded Ghost's personal space. Ghost swallowed past the conflicting sensations running through his body; the knots and the warmth. It all blended together in a dizzying blur of emotion he didn't understand, wasn't familiar with.

"Got an idea on how to change it?" Ghost asked, and given the way Soap's eyes sparked, he knew the nymph had picked up on the slight quiver in his voice.

"Aye, dinner and a show. Tomorrow night?" Soap murmured as his fingers lightly brushed Ghost's chest, lightly shocking him without hurting. Ghost purposefully ignored the ever growing arousal that he was certain Soap had picked up on.

"What kind of show?" Ghost immediately regretted his question, if Soap's devious grin was anything to go by.

"Light show." God, he's so fucked.

"About damn time." Ghost whispered with a trembling breath. Soap chuckled again before placing a chaste kiss on Ghost's clothed cheek, barely brushing against the hard plate of his mask. He patted Ghost's chest before walking away, allowing the lieutenant carry on with his day.

What a fool indeed.

~~~~~

Gaz found Price along the shore of the lake close by the base. He had put on a different appearance, most likely so he could remain unbothered by the men under his command for a few hours, but Gaz still knew it was the captain. He's got a sensitive nose, after all.

"Soap finally asked Ghost out." Gaz called out as he came close enough. Price's head whipped around to face him, his natural appearance fading into existence.

"He said yes, right?"

"Yeah, of course." Gaz responded with a laugh as he took a seat next to Price.

"Fucking finally. I was about to get involved it was that bad." Price mumbled, and Gaz couldn't help but shake his head with laughter. They fell silent for a brief moment as Price sipped his drink.

"How are you feeling about it?" Price asked, and Gaz rolled his eyes. He confided in the captain with a lot, and his feelings for both being the most recent of topics. Of course Price would ask how this made him feel.

"I mean, I told him to do it. 'S'long as they're happy, I don't care." Gaz muttered, picking at the grass in order to avoid Price's calculating gaze. Gaz gently nudged Price's shoulder with his nose, the older man's worry starting to irritate him.

"I'm fine, Cap, I promise. They need a little time before I try to get involved." He mumbled, keeping his head resting against Price's shoulder.

"Unless that's not what they want." Price's deep rumble always grounded Gaz, but this time he couldn't help but think of how Ghost's voice would feel. How the deep, gruff rumble would feel against him as they laid there. Gaz shook his head as he sat up again.

"I don't know, Price. We'll just have to see." Gaz said, picking at more grass. Price hummed from next to him, knowing the sound alone was enough of a response for the siren. They stayed quiet for another few minutes as Price continued 'fishing' and Gaz picked at the grass. Fishing was not the best description of Price's restful activity, as he more or less kept a line casted while he read and drank. Eventually, Price must've grown tired of Gaz's pouting, as he suddenly sighed and shoved the siren's shoulder.

"Go for a swim, I'll keep watch." Gaz didn't need much more convincing. He typically hated swimming alone, as Sirens were targeted everywhere for their tears and their scales. Gaz even has a rather nasty scar on his stomach from a close encounter he had as a child. He also often avoided swimming around most people, as for his typical swims he would strip down and be his fully fledged siren form, and the act of getting in and out made him feel a different kind of vulnerable.

But when Price offered to keep watch? When Gaz knew he was under the careful guard of his captain? He never hesitated to abandon his clothing before diving gracefully into the water. A lake is not the ideal environment for a Siren, but it's the best Gaz has, lest he wanted to spend half his time in a bathtub just lying there.

Gaz stretched once under the water as his body shifted and morphed into something less human and more shark-like. He squirmed a bit as his tail developed, but the awkward sensation didn't last long. Clawed, webbed hands ran over his scales, all sparkling in the light. Dark, iridescent scales covered his body along his back, neck, and face, just barely stopping along his sides. Lighter scales adorned his stomach, and his fins were mostly solid with a bit of flashy blue fans trailing behind, making them appear weightless. His eyes had now completely blacked out, yet he still maintains impeccable vision, and his teeth had grown longer, sharper, and a bit jagged as a second row formed behind them. Large navy sails covered his ears, sticking up above the top of his head, now covered in dark purple scales.

As menacing as he was like this, Gaz was still the spitting image of beauty personified.

He stayed in the water for another couple of hours until his stomach growled. Price jumped slightly as Gaz suddenly launched out of the water and onto the shore next to him. Price shook his head as Gaz beamed at him, sharp teeth snapping together slightly with the motion. Gaz let out a sharp whistle as Price threw a towel at him, and Price winced in response.

"Watch your language!" Price snapped, as was common for him to say to the Siren while in this form. Gaz's ability to speak wasn't necessarily gone, but if he were to speak, it'd be nothing but his Siren voice, so he often stuck to the shrill whistles and clicks Sirens used to communicate with each other. The sounds, however, often felt painful for non-Siren ears.

"Thanks, Cap." Gaz said as he gently touched his nose to Price's. Price didn't bother looking up from his book as he patted Gaz's head.

"Yeah, yeah." He mumbled as he dropped his hand.

"Gaz." Confused, the Siren looked back over at the captain, only to see a few purple scales on the man's palm. He snorted and fell back into the grass with laughter.

"Fucking warn me next time." Price grumbled as he wiped the scales onto the grass. He packed up his possessions as Gaz finished drying off. Price let out an annoyed sigh as he stood and looked down at Gaz, whom was laid out on the grass, the towel still wrapped around him.

"Put your clothes on, son." Price said while kicking the sergeant's pile of clothes closer. Gaz groaned and rolled onto his stomach, sticking his face into the grass.

"Fucking hate clothes after swims." Gaz mumbled, the noise muffled.

"I'd hate clothes, too, if I were from the water. But we land dwellers have rules about such things. Quite frankly, I don't want one of my sergeants walking around in the nude." Price said, to which Gaz giggled a bit.

"Sometimes, I wonder what I can get away with before you actually send me off." Gaz commented as he finally sat up and grabbed his briefs from the pile of clothes.

"It wouldn't take as much as you'd think." Price responded, politely turning his back as Gaz dressed.

"Yeah, right. You asked for me." Gaz teased.

"Can always send you back, kid." Price quipped right back, and turned to smile at Gaz after being nudged on the shoulder by the Siren's nose.

"Let's get some food in you, yeah?" Price said as he wrapped an arm around Gaz's shoulders.

"Yeah. Thanks for watching my back." Gaz mumbled as he leaned into Price.

"Anytime, son. Anytime and always."

Taglist (want added?): @tacticaltaxonomist @cthulhusstepmom @cathnoneofyourbusiness @thorougly-melted-brains @sp4z-4tt4ck @49saltpeppershakers @bluebrryice

(Side note, at the time of posting this, I am in the process of withdrawing from college for, at least, the semester cause health comes first. So, I have a few more parts that will be scheduled to come out around the same times this weekend so I don't have to worry about that. I mean, this is only part 4 and I have another 3 parts written and one in the brain drafts, soooooo.... Yeah! And don't worry, I'm actually very happy about withdrawing from college for a bit, cause like I said, health first.

[mya-valentine]

Flirting With Danger

Synopsis: Juri, the formidable sorcerer, makes a rare appearance at Jujutsu High’s courtyard, drawing attention from a cocky student who attempts to flirt with her. Unimpressed, Juri swiftly shuts him down with a display of cursed energy. Later, Gojo teases her about the encounter during a visit to his office, while Itadori, confused but intrigued, listens in. Juri, frustrated, makes it clear that she’s not interested in idle flirtations and leaves, leaving Gojo and Itadori to ponder the complexities of her intimidating presence.

A/N: Probably one of my favorite chapters

It was a rare day when Juri actually showed up to the main campus instead of lurking in her usual corners, handling missions or tormenting Itadori during training. Today, however, she had business with Gojo and had made her way toward the school’s main courtyard, where a few students were milling about, taking advantage of the sunny afternoon. 

Juri’s reputation preceded her, and it was no surprise that people stared as she walked past. The whispers followed her, but she ignored them, her cold expression and the ever-present smirk on her lips making it clear she wasn’t here for small talk.

However, one particular student, a third-year with an overly confident swagger, clearly didn’t get the memo. Leaning casually against one of the courtyard pillars, he watched Juri approach with an arrogant grin. He’d heard about her, of course—everyone had—but he wasn’t exactly the type to back off when faced with a challenge. And Juri, with her sharp eyes, fierce demeanor, and undeniable power, was the ultimate challenge.

"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence," he said, stepping in front of her path as she walked by. His voice was dripping with smugness, and his eyes scanned her in a way that made it clear he thought he had a chance. "Juri, right? You’re even hotter in person. I’ve heard all kinds of things about you. Strongest sorcerer, huh? Must be tough for someone as beautiful as you to keep all that power in check."

Juri didn’t even break her stride. Her eyes flickered over him, disinterested, but she kept walking, as if he was beneath her notice.

The guy, not getting the hint, moved to block her again, his grin widening. "Hey, no need to be shy. I get it—you’re a lone wolf, always on the move. But, you know, we could team up sometime. I’m pretty skilled myself. Maybe we could… train together?"

Juri stopped, finally looking him in the eye. Her smirk, always a little dangerous, sharpened into something far more menacing. She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as if she was genuinely considering his offer.

"Oh, you want to train with me, huh?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That’s cute."

The guy’s grin faltered slightly, but he pushed on, trying to regain his confidence. "I mean, why not? You and me? We could be a pretty unstoppable duo. Or, you know, maybe we could grab a drink sometime? I could show you a good time."

Juri’s expression darkened, and the playful edge in her voice vanished. Her left eye began to glow faintly with cursed energy, a warning that even he couldn’t ignore.

"You think you could keep up with me?" she asked, her voice cold and cutting. "Do you have any idea who I am, or are you just too stupid to realize when you're out of your league?"

The student blinked, clearly taken aback by her sudden shift in tone. "Hey, I’m just trying to—"

Juri stepped closer, her cursed energy sparking around her fingers, crackling like electricity. The air around them grew tense, and everyone in the courtyard felt it. Her smile was gone, replaced by a deadly seriousness that made it clear she wasn’t playing around.

"Let me make this simple for you," she said, her voice low and venomous. "You? You’re nothing. I’ve fought curses that would tear you apart in seconds. You think you can flirt your way into my good graces? Pathetic."

The guy’s face paled, his bravado quickly draining away as he realized the situation he’d put himself in.

Juri took another step forward, her eyes narrowing. "If you ever block my path again, or so much as breathe in my direction, I’ll make sure you regret it. Got that?"

The guy swallowed hard, his cocky grin long gone as he took a step back. "I-I didn’t mean any disrespect. I was just—"

"Just what?" Juri interrupted, her tone mocking. "Trying to impress me? Newsflash: you’re not worth my time. So why don’t you take your little ego and crawl back to whatever hole you came out of?"

Without waiting for a response, Juri turned on her heel and walked away, her cursed energy fading as quickly as it had flared up. The student, thoroughly humiliated and shaken, didn’t dare follow her. The other students in the courtyard who had been watching quickly averted their gazes, pretending they hadn’t just witnessed him get torn apart without Juri even lifting a finger.

Juri’s smirk returned as she headed toward the school. 

"Amateurs," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

Later that day, Juri found herself sitting in Gojo's office, arms crossed and legs propped up on his desk as she reclined in the chair. Her bruises from the mission had mostly healed, but she still had that fierce, dangerous air about her. Gojo, of course, noticed, as he noticed everything. He sat across from her, leaning back in his own chair with a wide grin plastered across his face, his blindfold barely hiding the amusement dancing in his eyes.

“So,” Gojo began, voice dripping with amusement, “heard you made quite the impression on one of the students today. What was it? Something about ‘training together’ and ‘grabbing a drink’? Sounds like someone was shooting their shot.”

Juri groaned and rolled her eyes dramatically, not even bothering to sit up. “If you’re gonna make fun of me, at least make it entertaining. That idiot didn’t even deserve to get a response.”

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Come on, Juri, don’t be so cold! The poor guy was just trying to get to know the strongest sorcerer a little better. Can’t blame him for trying, right? You can be… intimidatingly attractive?” Gojo finishes with an unsure shrug.

Juri shot him a glare that could have incinerated a lesser man. “Keep talking and I’ll show you what intimidating really looks like.”

Gojo waved his hand dismissively, not at all fazed. “Please, I’m just saying! You’re a tough nut to crack, but maybe he thought there was a softer side under all those lightning bolts. Though, judging by what I heard, he’s lucky to still have his dignity intact. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re giving off mixed signals.”

Juri snorted, her eyes narrowing. “Mixed signals? I was about two seconds away from frying his brain with cursed energy. Trust me, there’s nothing mixed about that.”

Gojo leaned forward, grinning even wider. “You could’ve let him down gently. A little smile, a nice ‘no thanks,’ maybe even—”

“I’m not interested in playing nice,” Juri cut him off, sitting up now, her voice sharp. “If they want to get in my way, they’re going to learn the hard way. Besides, I don’t have time for idiots who think they can flirt their way into my life.”

Gojo laughed, leaning back again. “Ah, Juri. You really know how to keep things interesting around here. It’s no wonder people are always drawn to you. Strong, fierce, beautiful… What’s not to like? Except, you know, the constant threat of death.”

Before Juri could respond with a sharp retort, the door creaked open, and Itadori wandered in, looking slightly confused at the scene in front of him. He blinked, eyes darting between Juri, who still looked mildly irritated, and Gojo, who looked like he was having the time of his life.

“Uh… am I interrupting something?” Itadori asked, his voice unsure. “You guys seem… tense?”

Gojo immediately brightened, waving Itadori over. “Not at all, Yuji! You’re just in time! Juri was just telling me about her recent admirer. Some guy tried to flirt with her earlier, and—”

“Don’t,” Juri warned, glaring at Gojo with enough intensity to make the temperature in the room drop.

Gojo ignored her, clearly enjoying the chance to tease her in front of Itadori. “Anyway, this poor guy thought he could ask her out, and instead, she almost turned him into a human lightning rod. Harsh, right?”

Itadori’s eyes widened, his confusion deepening. “Wait, someone tried to flirt with Juri? Like… seriously?”

Juri pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly done with the conversation. “It wasn’t flirting. It was stupidity. And it’s over. Drop it.”

Gojo grinned, his tone playful. “Oh, don’t be like that, Juri. Yuji here is just as curious as I am. Right, Yuji?”

Itadori scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh… I mean, yeah, I guess? But I don’t really… understand why anyone would try that with you. Not that you’re not… uh, I mean, you’re really strong and cool! But also scary? So, uh, yeah… confusing.”

Juri shot Gojo an exasperated look before turning her attention to Itadori. “See? Even the kid gets it. I don’t do ‘flirting.’ And anyone who tries is just wasting their time.”

Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, Yuji, lesson learned. Don’t try to flirt with Juri unless you’ve got a death wish. Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if one day someone actually managed to crack that icy exterior. Who knows? Maybe they’ll be even scarier than her.”

Juri rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming. There’s no one out there who’s worth that kind of trouble.”

Itadori, still trying to process the conversation, just nodded along, deciding it was probably best not to ask any more questions. He didn’t quite understand what was going on, but one thing was clear—he’d never be that guy trying to flirt with Juri. That seemed like a death sentence.

Gojo, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, clearly satisfied with how much he’d managed to rile Juri up. “Well, I’ll leave you to think about that, Juri. And Yuji, next time you see a classmate making eyes at her, do them a favor and steer them in the opposite direction.”

Juri stood up, glaring at Gojo one last time before heading for the door. “You two idiots deserve each other,” she muttered before walking out.

As she left, Gojo grinned and leaned toward Itadori. “You know, I think we’re growing on her.”

Itadori just blinked. “Yeah… I’m not so sure about that, Gojo-sensei.”

[icedcoffeeandsunshine]

Could you do a sting eucliffe character analysis?

hello and yes ofc i can! i’m so sorry this took so long to respond to, i’ve had board exams so it’s a little bit all over the place 😅 but i hope you like!

Sting Eucliffe Character Analysis - Requested

CANON ANALYSIS

one word to describe this man ; COCKY.

but sliightly lesser so after the events of the grand magic games.

sting is definitely sometimes overconfident and arrogant however he does have an insecure side to him, as seen specifically during the alvarez arc. from believing in fighting to win, after the gmg arc, sting has been influenced to fight for his comrades and not just for the sake of that sense of victory. he also has seemingly gotten rid of his sadistic side (displayed when minerva beat lucy). throughout the anime, it’s made clear that he’s developed a caring, empathetic, protective and cheerful nature towards others and also feels a sense of responsibility as the master of his guild.

MY HEADCANONS FOR THEM

in my version of events, rogue becomes guild master instead of sting, i really feel like sting wasn’t fully mentally prepared for the responsibilities and the challenges that come with holding that title.

or maybe both become co-masters, to balance it out?

sting doesn’t like wearing full shirts (like fully covered) simply because he feels hot (temperature wise) in them, so he wears crop tops

a modern au! one is people come up to him randomly on the street and ask if he’s a kpop idol because dude literally looks like one

OH a cute one is that sting has an earring collection for his piercing but the crystalline one was a gift from weisslogia so that’s why he wears that specific one most of the time (fav one tbh)

i think sting either has some sort of adhd or is just hyperactive in general honestly

in my version of events yet again, sting is not natsu 2.0 because he’s taller one natsu is enough

i don’t think i have much for him? more so for rogue honestly, i find him to be much more interesting (don’t @ me i have a thing for broody dark haired emo-ish men)

STING IN LOVE + FRIENDSHIP

since sting is kind of insecure, i think he’s gonna have some form of communication or commitment issues simply because of his negative thoughts (“everyone’s gonna leave me one day etc”)

his love language is definitely words of affirmation

i think he’d be super protective of his loved ones

again, the insecurity plays in with when someone he loves gets hurt, he’d blame himself for not protecting them or not being strong enough to protect themselves

otherwise, this man is quite confident and low-key horny most of the time

ithink he’s like a best-friend type of lover, in the sense that the relationship would be easygoing fun and serious but at the same time unserious if that makes sense

he is, and i know i’ve said this word 25757 times but COCKY however will be the softest, sweetest, most caring boy if he truly loves you.

WHO DO I SHIP THEM WITH?

though i definitely think minerva is attracted to women, stinerva as a ship kinda makes sense to me, it works wayy better than rogue and minerva. stingyu isn’t my cup of tea really.

stings heart yearns for natsu so honorary mention to stingsu here.

as for stingue, i can see the appeal but at the same time they just give me very brotherly vibes and as someone on tumblr mentioned (can’t remember the user) i ship stingue PLATONICALLY in a context that doesn’t stem from homophobia.

sting x gray is a funny crackship honestly.

but overall i don’t think i ship sting (atleast concretely) with anyone really. i forgot to mention in my headcanons but he really just strikes me as either aroace or demisexual/ demiromnatic or JUST simply not actively looking for a relationship or a partner.

PERSONAL OPINION ABOUT THE CHARACTER

it’s not that i dislike sting but i used to find him somewhat annoying and a rip off natsu and in some aspects, i still think the same but his character development was one of the better written ones in the series. personality aside, he’s one of the hottest characters in fairy tail. he’s not my favourite character but he’s not bad either? i just want him to not be natsu 2.0-esque honestly, that’s one thing i cannot get out of my mind.



[theemporium]

[1.5k] all rafe cameron wants to do is give his girlfriend a nice homemade dinner for valentine’s day. so of course nothing goes to plan.

. 

Rafe Cameron knew from the moment he first met you that you were opposites, but maybe that was a part of the intrigue. 

He was cocky, brash and arrogant. He acted like the world was in the palm of his hands and he walked around the whole island like he damn knew it. He was confident and he was so sure of himself, he threw money around like it meant nothing to him because it didn’t—not really. He was an extrovert, he thrived off attention and he goddamn loved the spotlight. 

You were quiet and you stuck to yourself most of the time. You weren’t a pushover, you could hold your own when the time came but you tried not to attract that kind of attention. You preferred to hide in the shadows and large crowds, preferred quiet nights over keggers in the boneyard. You thrived off solidarity and quiet and your own thoughts. 

But then again, opposites attract and all that jazz. 

And when Rafe met you, he made the simple mistake of thinking you were like every other girl he had met on the island. He used his usual tactics, his swoon-worthy actions that made girls drop at his feet—only to be humbled pretty quickly when he realised none of that bullshit was ever going to work with you. 

It was honestly charming seeing the Kook King be brought to floundering around, desperate to lap up any bit of attention you gave him, and despite the fact it took him a while, he learned what you liked and what made you swoon. 

And from that point on, it was hard to deny the feelings you had towards Rafe Cameron.

Rafe had to learn the hard way that you never liked the big, complicated, over-achieving acts of love. Rafe had to learn that there were subtle, simpler ways to show you how much he cared about you. 

His most recent challenge came in the form of Valentine’s Day.

If you had asked him to plan this night a few months ago, it would have followed something along the lines of the following: taking you on a day out to buy you the prettiest and most expensive dress he could find (which he totally planned on ripping off you later), getting you all packed up for a weekend away on the mainland, making sure you are all dolled up before taking you to the most expensive restaurant the mainland had to offer before spending the rest of the weekend eating chocolate-covered strawberries and drinking champagne that costed more than the average man’s car. 

But that was nothing short of your worst nightmare, and Rafe knew that. You hated when he spent unnecessary money on you, and he knew you’d hate nothing more than spending the night in some high-end restaurant where you spent the meal trying to decipher which kind of fork you were meant to be using. 

Rafe knew you, hence the reason none of that plan even saw the light of day.

Instead of fancy forks and uptight waiters, he chose something he knew you would love: a homemade dinner for just the two of you, and a night-in where you could do nothing and everything you wanted from spending the night in sweats watching trashy movies or hands gripping his headboard as he took you from behind. 

That was the kind of night he knew you’d love. 

The only problem was that growing up with the luxury and privilege as Rafe did, he had spent just as much time in the kitchen as he had in the state of California. And his arrogance only took him so far before he realised that it was pure dumb luck he hadn’t burned the place down. 

A quick glance at the clock told him he had less than an hour before you arrived and the panic really set in. But with no other choice, he grabbed his phone and called the nice Italian place in town and emphasised the heavy tip they would receive if they managed to get the food here before the hour. 

And he truly, truly thought he had gotten away with it. 

When you knocked on the door exactly on the hour, the food had been plated and the evidence had been disposed of and Rafe felt like he hadn’t completely ruined what was meant to be the most romantic night of the year. 

“Happy Valentine’s, baby,” Rafe greeted you, a sweet kiss pressed to your lips as he dragged you inside and shut the door behind you. 

“Happy Valentine’s, Rafe,” you said with a smile that he couldn’t quite decipher, but you always looked so pretty when you smiled so he couldn’t actually complain all that much. 

Your jacket was hung by the door and your shoes kicked off to the side before he guided you into the dining room. The room was set up with low lighting, candles and cheesy heart buntings that made you snort and made the awkward ride to Party City so worth it. 

“Really went all out, huh?” you teased, your hand still in his as you walked deeper into the room. 

“Just wait until you see what I have up in my room,” he murmured into your ear, and he enjoyed the way your body shuddered in response.

He led her towards the table, settling her into her seat and leaning down to sneak another chaste kiss against her lips before he headed towards the kitchen to start bringing out the meals. 

“This pasta is really good, baby,” you told him with a warm smile, watching in amusement as he squirmed in his seat.

“Uh, thanks,” he cleared his throat, suddenly so interested in the plate in front of him instead of your adoring eyes. And he could feel his cheeks burn up when you leaned over to take his hand, squeezing it in gratitude. 

“Is it a family recipe?” you asked innocently. 

“Uh,” Rafe paused with a frown. “Yes?” 

You raised your brows. “You don’t sound very sure about that.” 

“I mean, yeah, it is a family recipe,” he quickly corrected himself with a nod of his head, and he wasn’t really lying. It was a family recipe, just not his family recipe.

“I never knew my boyfriend was such a good cook,” you commented teasingly as you reached to take a sip of the (undoubtedly) expensive wine he had poured for you. “Maybe you should start your own restaurant.” 

Rafe choked on his food, quickly hitting his chest as he flashed you a sheepish smile. “Yeah, maybe!” he said, his voice a little more high-pitched than it usually was but he didn’t give you a chance to question it before he scuttered out the room to ‘check on the desserts’. 

You shook your head, wasting no time in quickly following your boyfriend into the kitchen. You stood at the doorway for a moment, watching as he leaned against the counter and muttered to himself. You couldn’t quite catch what he was saying, but the few words you heard—namely ‘bad’, ‘embarrassing’, ‘boyfriend’ and ‘deserves better’—gave you an idea of just what he was going on about.

“I think it’s cute,” you said loudly enough to announce your presence as his head snapped around to look at you. 

“What is?” he asked with a frown. 

“That you feel so guilty about buying me a nice meal,” you said and grinned when his eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed like a fish. 

Rafe instinctively reached out to you. “Baby, I can explain—” 

“Rafe, it’s fine,” you said softly as you took his hands in yours and pulled yourself closer to him until you were chest-to-chest with him. “Like I said, it’s cute.” 

“I wanted to make you a nice dinner,” he admitted with a heavy sigh, hands falling to your waist and his fingers fiddled with the hem of your sweater. “But then I burned the chicken and the potatoes fucking exploded and—” 

“Breathe,” you murmured as you tried to tamper down your own giggles. 

“I just wanted tonight to be perfect,” Rafe whispered to you, his gaze softening as he nudged his nose against yours. “I wanted to be your best valentine.”

“You are my best valentine,” you told him as you placed a hand on his cheek, lips twitching as he leaned into your touch. “And tonight is perfect.” There was a brief pause before you spoke again. “I mean, you got food from my favourite Italian place.” 

He let out a groan, his head dropping down to your shoulder as you laughed. “How did you find out?” 

“Despite the fact I’d recognise those mozzarella sticks anywhere? I saw the takeout boxes in the trash,” you said with a snort, your hand resting on the back of his neck. “You aren’t very good at hiding the evidence.” 

“This is embarrassing,” Rafe muttered but his words were muffled against your shoulder. 

“It’s adorable,” you said as you lifted his head up, hand on either cheek as you kissed him like you fucking meant it. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he said with a happy sigh as he melted into your touch. “Thank you for putting up with me.” 

You grinned. “Any day, baby. Now, c’mon, I wanna finish dinner, I was promised more surprises in a different room…” 

Rafe’s smile was nothing short of wolfish and wild. “Gotta be patient for dessert, baby. Gonna take my time with you.”

.

[dnangelic]

the rain falls heavy in the outside world , enough for mafuyu's archery meet to have been cancelled , but—-

inside the empty sekai , mafuyu didn't expect to be using dark as target practice – it did quell whatever competitive itch he built up during the day ; instead replaced with impatience . the silence around him intense as he hasn't gotten on a shot on him anywhere , dark tauntingly catching any arrows pointed in his direction . it wasn't meant to be easy , mafuyu knew this , but he couldn't bring himself to stop until he had some kind of win , big or small .

as expected being a phantom thief , perfect from the start — the gloating speech flies over his head as mafuyu prepares another shot : nocking point aligned , string drawn - his posture , maybe a bit hastily prepared — he shoots nonetheless . mafuyu didn't expect anything but it flying off its course , however –- met the pleasant surprise of nicking dark's sleeve . he lets out a deep sigh of relief , unknowingly wearing a content smile on his face afterwards .

@1amsong

and the great phantom thief , of course , makes everything appear as effortless as always . not so much as a bead of sweat or the slightest tremble shifts his relentless grin as the slew of arrows fly towards him , swift as lesser birds , perhaps ; small sparrows to a hawk who could snatch them right out of the air before tossing them back to his company in a generous , yet even more taunting mill .

all this time , he's been laughing and showing his teeth --- mocking not mafuyu but the idea , the very skulking face of something like danger , death even further a concept thrown into some abyss that he tried to rile up for his own thrill . of course , to any ordinary person this sort of thing might have been the very epitome of reckless and ridiculous , but he thinks that it didn't matter either way , not when it was him .

porcelain dolls such as himself made for perfect practice in a dream . even if one of those pointed tips did manage to strike their mark , then he'd only break rather than bleed , separated from his host for just this occasion . moreover he still remained unfathomably , insurmountably arrogant , confident in his own perpetually unmatched and unmet instincts rather than anything like a lack of mafuyu's ranging skill .

--- such is also rightly why he succumbs .

his head throws backwards and he tosses his bangs , minding his posture and verbal theatrics 'til he hears the other's final shot sing . lithe muscles move on instinct even now , and yet while it spares the broader target of his torso , he still feels the rough snatch and firm pull at his sleeve . silence and an expression of mild surprise meets the shot end when he lifts it , the arrow heavying his punctured cloth like a fresh , ugly accessory .

mafuyu's growing smile is plainly visible from beyond the small rip . moments later , it tears and deposits the winning arrow with a soft clatter onto the ground . like this , their faces both exposed bare between the result of mafuyu's success , dark's own curl soon enough mirrors his company's , something in him finding it difficult not to feel equally content .

nothing's been wounded ; neither his pride nor his make-believe flesh . despite the one being shot at he slowly approaches , returning the final arrow before letting a frigid hand pat itself blithely on the top of the other's head . ' nice shot . really good shot , ' he softly says , and he thinks to himself as he submits sublimely to this moment , wondering if mafuyu could realize it ---

it wasn't just him for getting careless and cocky , presuming things he shouldn't have , but mafuyu as well --- refusing to give up no matter how hopeless or frustrating things , even something menial and meant for play like this , had been . ' if you handle the worst things in life like that , too ... well , you just might be able to make it anywhere . '

[crestfallercanyon]

for the ship ask game: hartmon? :D

Ahhhh this ship! THIS ship!

I ship it. I don’t even totally have a coherent reason why so excuse me for being unintelligible. It’s been so long since I’ve watched the Hartley episodes, but I do know I loved him on sight. And my thoughts on this ship is that Cisco and Hartley are kind of bitches individually (affectionate with a dash of derogatory) and together they are BITCHES (pure affectionate) and I kind of just love their energy.

What made you ship it?

Primarily other people’s fan fictions — I haven’t watched Hartley’s episodes in some time, but I remember adoring him because he’s a brat but in a completely different way that Cisco’s a brat. Hartley is a cocky, arrogant jackass who has daddy Thawn issues, and I just really love his character with someone like Cisco. Cisco who is nerdy and a little insecure at times and has his own flavor of Thawn issues and theoretically could be just as arrogant but instead uses his energy to be sassy and make nerdy puns. Together I think they’d argue enough that I’d want to kill them personally but it’s such a good dynamic in the show and in stories that I love them.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

Kind of covered this previously but that they’re both brilliant, both have kind of an unhinged energy in their respective ways, and together have some of the best clapbacks and snark that’s on the show.

I also think that there is a great opportunity for tenderness and healing between the two of them actually too. Because they’re both kind of traumatized by the very thing that they relied upon for their confidence, I just think it could be a very sweet relationship once it settled down.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really, but that’s mainly because I’m not super well versed in it. Most of my shipping energy for these two is born of fan fictions which feature them and I adore those, so — that’s where I’m at

THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!

[harryssweatcreaturee]

Mission Accomplished

a/n: let’s just imagine a little, yeah? whipped this up real quick hope yall like it

warnings: none

—

Harry wasn’t cocky. Never arrogant or egotistical. But he never had a problem going on dates. It was pretty easy for him to confidently go up to a woman, charm her, and promise a wonderful date with a hard ‘yes’ in return to his question.

Yet with (Y/N)? Impossible.

If you asked her, she simply wanted to put him up for a challenge. To really prove that he wants to be a chivalrous man, genuinely interested in the woman. Did she tell him that? No. She really couldn’t help but think that it was fun to see Harry try so hard to get her to say yes. He’d show up to her job during lunch hours with flowers and chocolates, he’d send her sweet good morning and good night texts that certainly did make (Y/N)’s heart flutter.

But Harry was confused. He noticed she’d act more stoic about his advances; she’d keep quiet or give a simple thank you when her body spoke louder than her words did. Her cheeks would flush red, her skin would grow goosebumps as soon as he spoke, her chest would halt in symbolism that he truly did take her breath away with whatever gesture Harry did then.

Harry would constantly ask their mutual friends for any crumb of knowledge to the situation, but he’d never get an answer. Nonetheless, he knew he wouldn’t give up. Not until she would say no outright with her body screaming the same thing. Then Harry would understand to walk away.

So, he devised a plan. Simple yet effective.

(Y/N) typically spent her Sunday afternoons at their local park with her dog, something akin to a picnic for her and her furry friend with a book nursed in hand. It was known within their friend group, thus Harry took advantage of it.

Per usual, Harry bought a bouquet of flowers. Though unlike his usual purchase of white roses, this time it was tulips, something more friendly, softer than the meaning a rose carries. He drove to the park, a little nervous to hear the same response as the last few times but a bit more confident that this time was his lucky shot.

And there she was. (Y/N) sitting on a yellow quilt on the grass with a book in her hands, her dog laying right beside her, panting at the hot summer air.

Harry approached her gently, clearing his throat once he reached her side to have her acknowledge his presence in contrast to startling her by speaking. (Y/N) looked up at him, her lips turning into a small smile, yet soon her eyes fall on the tulips and Harry could notice her blinking rapidly as her cheeks turned red.

“Mind if I join you for just a few seconds?” Harry asked politely with that charming smile on his face, dropping down to his knees at her soft nod, placing the bouquet of tulips by her knees.

“Won’t mind a quick visit from a friend.” (Y/N) earned herself a chuckle from that statement, Harry licking his lips before taking in a deep breath.

He figured he’d cut right to the chase to avoid taking more of her time and interrupting her Sunday ritual.

“One date. That’s all I ask. If you don’t want to go out again after that, I’ll respect it. Let me show you I can be deserving of you and then you can decide if I’m not worth your time.” Harry’s voice was poised yet calm. He didn’t want to come off arrogant or demanding.

Albeit it didn’t help that she kept quiet for a few seconds and only made Harry nervous. She seemed pensive as she rolled her smiling lips into her mouth, eyes darting between the tulips and Harry’s eyes. (Y/N) softly shrugged her shoulders as she picked up the flowers, admiring them closely before placing them on her lap.

Now Harry was sure she was trying to torture him with all this thinking and waiting. Until finally, she spoke.

“One date, Harry. And for next time, I do prefer the white roses.”

Harry nearly scoffed in disbelief that his prior tries were perhaps just as good as this one but she was giving him a run for his money, only grinning instead and standing up from the grass with his eyes trained on her, “I’ll text you about our date then. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”

Instead of happily skipping away with his hands swinging at his hands, he walked way staying calm and collected, looking around the park as he released a quick breath then smiled at nothing. He did it. Finally. He was going to show (Y/N) just how worthy he could be of the girl.