#react landing page

[lizasweetling]

Klaus really completely clocked Martellus in less than a minute, and that's before we even consider what just happened to the dog guys

Klaus, I love you, but sweet jesus I understand why everybody's scared of you.

(page)

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

everyone knows dr. zayne is cool as a cucumber, and it's a given for him that you're known as his wife, but when a fresh-faced new resident seemingly makes a move on you... what will he do?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, jealousy (a very jealous zayne, in fact), making out in his office, crack, fluff, hunter!reader, you and zayne have a daughter

note: inspired by that one kim min-kyu scene in business proposal :D this is actually an extension for nocturne of twilight and dawn's first light but can also be read as standalone

You hadn't seen your husband for two weeks.

There was a spring on your step when you entered Akso Hospital right after your long intercity mission. You had acquired some bruises and they weren't anything serious, so you figured you’d just have Greyson treat them. Besides, it gave you the perfect excuse to hand him some cookies as a souvenir.

And, of course, ask him to ring for Zayne to meet you once he had the time.

"Miss, do you need help?"

But a curious voice addressed you when you loitered around in the lobby, and you turned around to find a bright-faced young man with red hair and wearing doctor's coat.

"Ah, yes, I want to meet Dr. Zayne," you smiled. "Or Dr. Greyson will do."

The young doctor perked up at the names you mentioned. "Oh, are you a patient? Do you have an appointment already?"

"Hmm, no, actually I am—"

You halted mid-sentence before the words his wife slipped out, rethinking your choice. You knew of Zayne's infamous reputation in the hospital, and while almost everyone in his floor knew you, this new doctor didn't, and you thought it was best to leave it that way.

"Yeah, I already have an appointment," you nodded, plastering an thin smile. "Just tell Dr. Greyson that Y/N wants to meet him."

"Right, right, I'll page him now..." he mumbled, pulling out his pager and his phone. "I'll text him too..."

"Thank you."

"O-oh, Miss! Wait!" the young man called after you in a hurry when you turned around. "I've noticed it for a while, you have a cut on the side of your lips..."

"Ah, this..." Your fingers instinctively brushed the dried blood on your lips. You hadn’t thought the small cut was noticeable. "Yes, it’s from earlier—"

"Actually, I’m an ER resident!" he interrupted with a bright grin. "Let me treat you first!"

Caught off guard by his enthusiasm, you barely had time to react as he gently but firmly guided you towards the emergency room.

"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne! Your wife is here~!"

Zayne had barely stepped into his office after a grueling surgery when Greyson barged in, all too casually, delivering the news with a grin. "She’s waiting in the lobby!"

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

You're back? He pulled out his muted phone, checking the notifications. Sure enough, you’d sent him a message an hour ago, letting him know you’d safely landed in Linkon.

His little, snarky wife. For the past two weeks you had been away, the house had felt lonelier. Sure, his daughter—who resembled you in personality, no less—was a bundle of sunshine and adorable beyond words, but without you, there was always that subtle void in the air.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house at all? Maybe it was just him—utterly, hopelessly whipped.

"Why isn’t she coming up to my office?" he asked suddenly, noticing the odd detail.

"Hmm, yeah, and it’s weird... why did the new resident say she’s asking for me?" Greyson mused, turning toward Zayne. "Don’t you want to meet her instead? Whatever she needs me for, I’m sure you could handle it."

Zayne promptly left his office and took long strides toward the elevator. As the doors started to close, he even half-sprinted, calling out to the person inside to hold it for him.

Okay, maybe he was a little too eager, but was it really so wrong to be this excited to see his wife again when the two of you had been apart for two weeks?

...then again, you didn't need to know. You would roast him to bits should you know he missed you this much.

Zayne got off at the lobby, expecting to find you there— only to find the usual flow of hospital staff and visitors. He was about to call you when he wandered past the emergency room and turned the corner—and that’s when he got his shock of the day.

There you were. But not alone.

With a guy.

Whose hand is touching your lips.

"It must be tough being a hunter, huh?"

The red-haired resident carefully tended to your bruised arm, wrapping it in a fresh bandage as you sighed, thinking back to the mission. "Yeah, there are definitely some hard days..."

"But despite all that, you still keep yourself in shape!" he remarked, eyeing your toned arms with a hint of admiration.

You let out a sheepish laugh, remembering those pull-ups sessions with Zayne. "Haha, that's because my husband makes sure I'm getting enough exercise..."

"You're married?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, and it caught you off guard, yet he grinned afterwards. "Wow! Is he a hunter too?"

You would've never guessed, boy. This resident doctor was cute, you thought, ever so curious at everything. You could only imagine the look on his face if you told him that the Dr. Zayne was your husband.

You were about to refute it when his fingers brushed against your lips. "Oh, sorry, let me apply some ointment here first..."

His touch felt cool to your lips and you were momentarily stunned at the contact— but then a gruff cough startled you so much you almost jumped.

The towering figure of your husband behind him. Zayne's dark gaze was fixed on the man in front of you, like he could murder the poor guy with just a look.

"Z-Zayne...?" you squeaked against the ointment on your lips, and the resident quickly turned behind him in surprise, hastily greeting him, "Oh, Dr. Zayne!"

Zayne shot the poor man a single, pointed look before his gaze shifted to you, clearly unamused.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and, without sparing the resident another glance, swiftly pulled you away. The other guy was left standing there, speechless, as Zayne led you off, leaving him in the dust.

. . .

"Zayne!"

Oh, how he actually missed his name coming out from your lips.

"Are you done with your schedule?" you asked as he pulled you into the elevator, confusion evident in the way you tilted your head. But when he didn’t answer, you glanced down at his firm grip on your arm, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, no... are you angry?"

Sigh. It irked him so much, actually. Because, how could you, after weeks—

No, he actually knew he was being irrational. He shouldn’t overreact like this just because someone else touched you. But why is he so annoyed, still?

"Wait, why?" you kept asking, wide-eyed, as the two of you stepped out and made way towards his office. "I'm not injured! I'm fine! It's just some bruises—"

Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his office, swiftly locking the door behind him. Before you could say another word, he cornered you against the wall, and you fell silent instantly.

It had been a while since he’d seen you this way—stunned, caught off guard, and utterly silent under his gaze. He studied your face closely, watching the way your breath hitched as the tension between you both thickened.

It sparked something inside him seeing you like this, a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite explain, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

That was when he saw the blood on your lips. "Did you get punched in the face?"

"Y-Yes, but— it's nothing severe!" you defended, trying to convince him. "It's such a small cut anyway!"

He frowned. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What? Hey, I was about to ask Greyson, but—"

That got him frown even deeper, even irate. "Why Greyson? When you come home with any injuries, you come to me, not anyone else."

You let out a resigned sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Because I know you'll fuss over me, duh."

"I don't fuss," he retorted.

"You do," you shot back, pursing your lips. "You try to act like this cool, calm robot all the time, but you always drone on and on whenever you patch me up. You're worried, it shows."

Zayne huffed, shifting his gaze away from you as he felt his face burn. Was he that obvious? How could he not, though, when you managed to get hurt so often and yet acted so innocent about it?

Then as if inspired, you caught on immediately. Your eyes sparkled, and a mischievous smirk tugged at your lips. "Wait, just now... don't tell me... Are you jealous?"

Damn.

"Heh, Dr. Zayne, really?" Your voice was playful now, mocking him. "Whoa, how can this be?"

How had you figured him out so easily?

You continued in a sing-song voice, putting both hands on your chest, "Ah, my heart flutters! My husband is apparently—"

Enough. This time, his patience snapped.

He didn’t hesitate even for a moment. A low growl escaped him, and in one swift motion, he crashed his lips against yours, silencing you with the most effective method he could think of.

"Mmph!" You gasped in surprise, the teasing words at the end of your tongue completely forgotten. His gray eyes gleamed. Been too long, he thought, and now he was making sure you knew just how badly he craved this.

The kiss was searing as he deepened it, his tongue seeking yours with urgency. "Hngh!" You let out a feeble whine when he teased you by biting your lips.

Zayne held back a snort. One of his hand then strayed inside your hunter uniform, unclasping your bra with a flick.

"—?!" Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and before you could process it, he pulled away. But you were far from right in thinking it was over. The dangerous gleam in his eyes kept you tense as he swiftly removed his glasses...

...before he pulled you back towards him and claimed your lips once again.

With a swift, commanding motion, he guided you toward his desk. His papers scattered at the sudden movement, but he had you bent over it regardless, forcing your body to arch. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, while his right hand fondled your breasts, repeatedly squeezing, palming and switching between them.

"Mmm...!" You let out a strangled moan, instinctively holding onto his shoulder, feeling the way how he groped you ignited your core. "Ahh..."

Your body was tantalizing as always. Hardened and sometimes bruised from your work it may be, but to Zayne, you were still beautiful as ever.

When you gasped for air, he decided he was done with your swollen lips. His lips then trailed down to your neck, sucking hard on it, creating a squelching sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"W-what's... gotten into you...?" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair, hyperaware of his hands still roaming over your nipples.

In response, he nibbled at your skin and flicked your breasts at the same time, causing you to freeze and draw a sharp, hitched breath. "Haah...!"

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curled wickedly at your reaction, and he continued to pepper your neck with series of wet sucks as if to mark you altogether. You writhed under him, whiny and sighing, relishing his hot breath on your skin.

You were utterly at his mercy, pliant and helpless in his hands. There was a deep satisfaction in knowing he was the only one who could bring you, his lawfully wedded wife, to this state—

Still, he wouldn’t allow you to be indecent in a place like this. When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, eyes dark with lust, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. "Don’t tempt me," he muttered, voice low and raspy.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. "Zayne..." you whispered, a whine broke through the heat on your flushed face.

His expression softened just enough, a flicker of tenderness cutting through the intensity. Pretty. That’s what you were, undeniably so. How he had missed out on you so long once was his greatest regret.

Carefully, he helped you sit upright, his touch gentle as he clasped your bra and began buttoning up your uniform, disheveled from his earlier ministrations.

The gentle way he touched you was a stark contrast to how it was earlier. "Is that a new way to treat busted lip?" you nudged his collar, feeling a little braver now.

"For bad wives, yeah."

"I'm not a bad wife! Just disobedient on some occasion."

Zayne's fingers brushed your face as he finished with your uniform, his dark-gray eyes steady on you. You pouted.

"You're the one who's bad," you accused with slight resentment, not missing a beat as the heat between your legs started to dissipate. "Leaving me unfinished like that."

"Hmm? Am I?" he murmured, the faintest amusement in his tone.

"You have to take responsibility tonight, you big meanie," you mumbled, your pout deepening as you avoided meeting his gaze.

Zayne snorted at the sight of you—so precious in his eyes, his thumb lightly grazing the corner of your lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart skip, before whispering in your ear:

"Well, if your voice won't wake our daughter, that is."

Epilogue

Not long after, just as you had gathered yourself and were preparing to leave the hospital to head home, a sudden knock at the door of his office startled you both.

Quickly, you moved to sit on the patient’s seat, feigning nonchalance as you braced yourself for whoever was on the other side. Zayne reached for the door, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice called out.

"Excuse me!" the resident's voice sounded a bit hesitant but firm. "Dr. Zayne, the miss left her handbag earlier!"

Zayne let out a low, irked sigh. You glanced at him curiously, watching as he opened the door and came face-to-face with the redheaded resident.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the resident blinked before handing over the bag.

"I-is the miss still here?" the young doctor asked, almost intimidated by his unfriendly gaze.

"Ma'am," Zayne corrected, his voice flat.

"Huh?"

"Call her ma'am. She's someone's wife."

"O-oh, and her husband is—"

"Me. I am her husband."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the matter-of-fact exchange, heat rising to your cheeks as Zayne’s words hung confidently in the air. He curtly thanked the poor resident before slamming the door shut in his face.

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "Zayne!" you gasped, staring at him as he turned back towards you, entirely unbothered.

Your husband was as cold as the snowman he often made, but somehow the way he boldly declared he was your husband was just so him that it made you so giddy.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "You’re really jealous, huh? How?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze still fixed elsewhere, most definitely trying to save his dignity.

You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him with a teasing sway. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, turning him to face you, and you winked at him mischievously.

"Well, I’m all yours. But if it makes you feel better, maybe I’ll stay away from any ER residents for a while~"

[whatonearthisgoingon]

The Alex Hirsch Charity Live Stream!

The art creations!!

Soos distracting us from our problems!

Deleted Pages!

Motorcity Holding hands and cuddling

Billford

Bill's Anatomy!

Ford reacting to the comments about him.

Bill in heels, slaying

Batman Stanley vs. Joker Bill

Pyramid Steve^2

Why so serial?

Young Stan eating through the car

Wolverine x Walter White - Ship Wheel

Stanford and Bill x Spongebob and Plankton

Dipperchu

Ford throwing Bill like a frisbee

Dib and Dipper

Waddles, Waddles, and more Waddles.

Bill as Ford's moth collection

Twins as Zelda characters

Baby Bill looking at the stars

Just hitched - The Love Triangle

Land of the Blind - Poem of Eucalidia!

And Alex saying the photo!

Will add more moments when the stream is over and I can go back!

Link to the stream!

Link to the GoFundMe!

Youtube Video that I think is most of the stream.

1:29:24 - Jason Ritter/Dipper singing Pink Pony Club

1:45:13 - Alex Hirsch/Stan and Kristen Schaal/Mabel singing Defying Gravity

1:53:13 - Jason Ritter/Dipper singing Espresso

1:58:25 - Jason Ritter/Dipper and Kristen Schaal/Mabel singing Good Luck Babe

[chanelrolls]

oops! accidentally touched your...

PAIRINGS. rafayel, sylus, zayne, xavier, & caleb x gn! reader (separate)

SYNOPSIS. how would the LADS men react to you unintentionally landing your hand on their crotch (dick)?

CW. mdni! mdni! mdni!

RAFAYEL

it wasn’t supposed to happen, your hand had just slipped while the two of you were squeezed together on the small velvet couch in his studio, sketchbooks scattered everywhere. you’d leaned in to point something out on his page, and in the process, your palm landed right on his bulge. there came a beat of silence, before... “...excuse me?” rafayel's voice cracked slightly as he shot you a look, one dark brow twitching upward like he couldn’t believe what just happened. you then froze, hand still firmly planted where it shouldn’t be. his face flushed, not quite red, but a heated pink crawling up his neck like his body had betrayed him by reacting. he didn’t push your hand away, though. instead, he dramatically tossed his pencil aside and let out a wounded sigh, flopping back against the couch like you’d just personally offended his entire bloodline. “oh, sure,” he muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes. “go ahead. touch me all you want. clearly i’m just...furniture now.” you blinked, abruptly pulling away, “rafayel, it was an accident!” he peeks at you from under his arm, mouth twitching like he was holding back a grin, though the tips of his ears were still suspiciously red. “an accident,” he repeated, “how very convenient. what’s next? falling into my lap?” then he huffed, sitting up straight again and brushing imaginary dust off his trousers with a little pout. “honestly, if you’re going to get handsy, at least have the courtesy to date me first...” and then he bumped his thigh against yours deliberately, just enough to fluster you right back. payback.

SYLUS

the meeting room was too quiet, filled only with the soft clicking of your laptop keys and the occasional turn of a page from sylus, seated beside you. he’d insisted you review the latest contract drafts together, and you’d agreed, even though being in close quarters with him made your thoughts stutter more often than you’d like. you then shifted to grab your pen, leaning a little too far over, and your hand brushed his crotch. firm. warm. solid beneath tailored fabric. you froze but sylus didn’t flinch, he didn’t pull away. instead, he slowly turned his head to glance down at your hand still lingering on his leg. there was a pause long enough to make you panic a little. then, his lips tugged into a slow, smug curve. “...comfortable?” he asks, voice low and calm, a glint in his eyes like he’d caught you red-handed and was already savoring it. you yanked your hand back, mortified. “i-it was an accident.” “mm,” he hummed, leaning slightly closer, his cologne brushing your senses like silk. “of course it was.” he made no effort to move away, letting the silence stretch before casually flipping the page of his binder. “you’re lucky i like you,” he murmured under his breath, like it was a quiet indulgence he didn’t usually allow himself. “next time,” he added, eyes still on the paper but voice dipped low, “ask me before touching. you might be surprised at the answer.”

ZAYNE

you weren’t even supposed to be there. zayne had told you to wait in the hall, but you wandered in anyway, curious and stubborn as always. he was seated at his desk, looking through patient files like they were ancient scriptures. you sat down beside him without asking. “you’re in my space,” he said calmly, without looking up. “you’re in mine,” you said back, not moving either. he sighed through his nose. a small, familiar gesture of restrained exasperation. “childish.” you leaned forward to peek at the papers, elbow brushing his. and then, in the smallest, dumbest accident of the day, your hand fell, and landed squarely on his crotch. zayne didn’t move, but his whole body tensed under your hand like a wire pulled too tight. you pulled away instantly. “ah sorry! that was... yeah. not on purpose.” his pen hovered midair for a second longer before he placed it down carefully, like he didn’t trust himself to keep writing. “...it’s fine,” he says huskily. but it wasn’t fine. you could see it in the way his jaw shifted, in how his fingers curled ever so slightly on the desk. “zayne?” he didn’t look at you, still staring at the desk. then, quietly, “you shouldn’t touch me like that.” "i said it was an accident.” he lets out the faintest breath of a laugh. humorless. “i know. that’s why i’m still sitting here.” a beat passed. “if it wasn’t, we’d have a much bigger problem.” you couldn’t tell if it was a threat, a warning, or something else entirely. but his ears were red.

XAVIER

the two of you had been reviewing documents at a quiet corner of the office. it was late, the only light coming from the soft glow of the overheads and xavier’s laptop screen. he sat beside you, perfectly upright, posture impeccable as always. “can you pass me the stapler?” you asked. he nodded, not saying a word and just handed it to you with that usual robotic grace. but then, when you reached to take it, your hand slipped. blame the fatigue or maybe the awkward angle, but instead of grabbing the stapler, your palm landed firmly on his bulge. you froze. he froze harder. you looked down. your hand still there. “...oh my god.” his face stayed neutral. too neutral. “sorry—i didn’t mean to, i was—” he cuts you off, “it’s alright,” he said, voice calm. but it was not alright. you looked up at him. his eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, like he was analyzing the molecular composition of the wall. but there, there it was. that tiny twitch in his left brow. a faint shift in his jaw. and oh, his ears were turning a little pink. you slowly pulled your hand back, feeling the tension in the air like static. “xavier,” you said, “you sure you're okay?” “mm.” he nodded once, a bit too quickly. “do you want to… talk about—” xavier shooks his head slightly, “actually, do you know if the printer’s working?” he blurted out in a sudden. you blinked. “...printer?” “yes. it’s important. very important.” you squinted at him. “we’re not even printing anything.” he didn’t respond. just kept staring forward like an android who had glitched halfway through a social routine. but under that cool, unbothered front, you could see it: the faint, chaotic panic behind his eyes. the internal crisis. the “i’m pretending this didn’t happen but i’m also not normal about it” energy. you leaned in, voice playful. “xavier. you’re blushing.” “that’s a malfunction,” he muttered. “really?” “uhuh, a mild overheating issue, meaning you should do it again.”

CALEB

(usage of meimei and gege)

you were sitting on the bleachers after practice, the gym mostly cleared out except for the sound of bouncing basketballs echoing from the far side. caleb sat beside you, towel slung around his neck, jersey sticking to his skin from the sweat. he looked tired, but still had that smug, lazy grin on his face. “you’re always watching me when i play, huh?” he teased, nudging your side with his elbow. “don’t think i don’t notice.” “i was just... trying to study your form,” you mumbled. he chuckled. “sure, sure. call it what you want, meimei.” he leaned back, palms resting behind him for support, his thigh just a little too close to yours. and when you shifted to adjust your bag, your hand accidentally landed right on the... crotch. you froze. his leg tensed under your touch. “...oh.” you blinked. “s-sorry, i didn’t mean to—” he didn’t say anything at first. his grin was gone. he turned his head slightly to look at you, eyes sharp now. “did you like what you touched?” he asked, teasing, but there was a dangerous undertone laced into it. you tried to pull your hand away, but his hand caught your wrist. “gege—” “what?” he tilted his head, mock innocence in his tone. “you touch me like that, then look at me like you didn’t mean to?” he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat from his skin. “you sure it was an accident?” you swallowed hard. “caleb…” he smirked again, like a switch flipped back. “relax, i’m just messing with you,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair like always. but that gleam in his eye didn’t fade. he finally let your wrist go, stretching like nothing happened. “you should be more careful where your hands go, though,” he added, smiling as he looked forward. “i might not be able to control myself next time, meimei.”

[hanniebaeee]

You done?

Lee Know x fem!reader

Warning: touching, suggestive content 18+ MDNI

Genre: established relationship, fluffy, suggestive

Summary: Some wine in, you're feeling particularly brave and decide to tease your boyfriend. In public.

a/n: Another short one. But sometimes Lino just attacks me out of nowhere.

It all starts as a little joke.

You are out with the guys for dinner at some fancy new Korean BBQ place. And Hyunjin is already halfway through an existential crisis over whether or not he should order that one dish.

Minho sits beside you, casual, relaxed - one arm draped over the back of your chair, casually browsing through the menu.

The poor man is completely unaware of the absolute menace sitting next to him. You. 

Why? Because you've been holding it in since the moment you saw him in that shirt - a fitted black button down - he looks absolutely delicious in it. 

And now you’ve had just enough wine to be bold. And you have absolutely no sense of self preservation. None.

There's no other way to explain why your hand lands on his thigh under the table. Casually. Innocently even.

At first, he doesn’t react. Doesn’t even pause from the conversation he was having with Felix about some sauce. It was like he didn’t even feel your tiny fingers settle against the firm muscle.

Oh, so he’s unbothered? That’s cute.

You squeeze. Still nothing. He just flips the page of the menu like this is a damn novel.

Okay. You see how it is.

So you up the ante - your fingertips creeping slightly higher, slipping over his inner thigh. And squeeze. 

That’s when you see it. The slight twitch in his jaw. The way his fingers tighten ever so slightly around the menu.

You let your nails drag just against the fabric of his jeans, pretending to be in a conversation with Chris, and taking a sip of your drink.

You trail slow circles over the fabric of his jeans, adding a little pressure. There's a subtle shift in his posture.

Oh you love it. You smirk to yourself, fully convinced you’re ruining him. You don't see the little smirk on his face. You totally miss that. 

And then, his legs suddenly spread wider. Like a silent invitation, a challenge.

You freeze. Oh. Oh, no.

That was not the reaction you were expecting.

You glance at him, to see that he's absolutely  unfazed. His eyes are dark and sharp. The corners of his lips curving up in the slightest smirk, amused as hell.

He is absolutely playing with you. Then, in the softest, most condescending tone imaginable, he leans in and whispers,“You done? I don’t mind putting on a show.”

Your throat goes dry.

“You sure you wanna start something you can’t finish?” he adds and your soul leaves your body.

You try to pull your hand away. Well, bad idea. Because his hand snaps down, gripping your wrist and bringing it to rest on him. Not on his thigh, nope. On the very noticeable bulge that's starting to form in his pants. 

Your brain short circuits. Ok. This isn't part of the plan. You just wanted to tease him, and now, you're trapped. 

He turns back to flip through the menu like he's not covering your hand with his big one, squeezing his bulge. 

You are panicking.

The guys are still talking and laughing, completely unaware that you are currently being held hostage under the table. You try to shift your hand. Nope.

Minho just tightens his grip slightly, thumb brushing slow circles against your skin, mocking you.

Then, he looks at you. The smirk. The pure, unfiltered lust in his gaze - it completely disarms you. 

He leans in slightly, voice low and smug as hell as he asks, “You nervous, baby?”

YOU. ARE. LOSING. IT. 

Your face? On fire. Your confidence? Shattered.

“You guys gonna order or what?” asks Han, putting down the menu.

“Yeah, I’m starving.” Felix adds, stretching and sighing as Hyunjin still fusses over the chicken. 

And then, just to absolutely ruin you, he does the unthinkable. He spreads his legs even wider and gently humps into your hand. 

You glitch in real time, as he just smirks and leans back, sipping his drink like he didn’t just destroy you in public.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he has the audacity to whisper, “We’ll finish this later. Just remember, you asked for this.”

And just like that, he releases your wrist, acting like nothing happened.

You are so fucked.

Minho: 1. You: 0.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120

[mahalachives]

Adapting to Human Fragility

Pairing: azriel x fem reader (human mate)

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Azriel is used to Fae strength and resilience. Seeing you bruise easily, tire faster, or become ill shakes him—but he steps up to care for you in the sweetest ways.

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚

The first time Azriel saw you bruise, really saw the way the purpled skin bloomed too easily beneath his fingertips, something in him shifted. He had been tracing absent-minded circles along your arm while you talked, his usually featherlight touch unconsciously pressing just a bit too firmly. When you winced and pulled back, he frowned.

"What is it?" His voice was low, cautious.

You glanced down and sighed. "You didn't mean to, but… you left a bruise."

Azriel’s eyes darted to the soft mark already forming—a faint shadow against your human skin. His jaw tensed, his wings flexing behind him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, pulling his hand back as though you were made of glass.

You shook your head, reaching for him again, but his shadows curled around his fingers, keeping them locked at his sides. "Az, it’s nothing. I'm human, remember? We bruise easily. It’s not a big deal."

But it was. At least to him.

From that moment on, you noticed a change in him—small things at first, like the way he walked closer to your side when you ventured into Velaris, his hand hovering near your lower back as if he anticipated every uneven cobblestone sending you toppling. Or the way his shadows flickered around your feet when you trained, sensing every misstep before you even realized you might trip.

And then there were the bigger things.

​​・・・・・​​⟢

"You need to rest."

You rolled your eyes at Azriel’s firm tone but didn’t stop climbing the narrow mountain path beside him. "I’m fine."

"You’re not fine," he countered, his wings ruffling in agitation. "You’re winded."

You were. But you weren’t about to admit it. The Illyrian mountain air was thinner than what you were used to, and while Azriel barely seemed to notice, your human lungs burned from the altitude. Still, you pressed forward, determined not to let him baby you.

Azriel sighed heavily behind you. Then, before you could react, his arms were around your waist, and your feet were suddenly no longer touching the ground.

"Azriel!" you yelped as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you like you weighed nothing.

"You’re overexerting yourself," he said simply, ignoring your protests. "You wouldn’t last another ten steps without needing a break."

"This is unfair," you grumbled, your cheek pressing against his chest as he flew you up the rest of the trail.

"You say unfair. I say efficient."

Despite yourself, you melted into his warmth. His scent—leather, cedar, and something darker—surrounded you, and the steady beat of his wings lulled your body into reluctant relaxation. He wasn’t wrong. You’d needed the rest. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t complain about it later.

By the time he landed at the overlook, he set you down carefully, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Next time, just tell me when you need a break," he said softly.

You sighed, looking out at the breathtaking view of Velaris below. "Next time, I’ll try."

He hummed, skeptical, but pressed a kiss to your forehead anyway.

​​・・・・・​​⟢

The first thing you registered was the warmth.

A heavy weight draped over your shoulders, tucked snugly around your body. The second thing you registered was Azriel’s voice—a deep, soothing murmur—reading something softly into the quiet air.

Blinking, you turned your head to find him sitting beside you, book in hand, eyes scanning the pages before flickering toward you when he sensed you waking.

"You're awake," he murmured, setting the book aside. His shadows swirled near the bedside table, shifting restlessly as if they, too, had been watching over you.

You groaned, burrowing further under the thick blankets. Your throat was raw, your limbs aching with the telltale weight of a fever.

"How long was I asleep?" you croaked.

"A few hours," he answered, smoothing his palm over your forehead. "You were burning up, so I stayed with you."

You glanced at the bedside table—there was a half-empty bowl of soup, a cup of tea that had long gone cold, and another book stacked beneath the one he had just set down. He had been here the whole time.

"You didn’t have to fuss over me," you mumbled, though the affection in your voice was clear.

Azriel gave you a look—one of those unreadable, quiet stares that made your heart flutter despite your miserable state. "Of course I did," he said simply.

Before you could respond, he was reaching for the fresh bowl of soup he must have made while you were sleeping. He lifted the spoon, blowing gently before bringing it to your lips.

"Az," you protested weakly, but he ignored you, tilting the spoon just enough for you to sip the warm broth.

"You take care of everyone else," he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. "Let me take care of you."

Your throat tightened, but this time, it had nothing to do with the fever.

You swallowed thickly, nodding. "Okay."

His lips ghosted over your temple, lingering just long enough to make your fevered skin flush for an entirely different reason.

"Good," he whispered.

​​・・・・・​​⟢

The fever broke by morning. You woke feeling lighter, though still exhausted, your limbs like lead as you shifted under the covers. Azriel was still beside you, his wings folded neatly against his back, his shadows flickering gently around the bedframe.

"You didn’t sleep, did you?" you asked softly.

"I dozed."

You arched a brow. "Liar."

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he exhaled and took your hand, tracing idle patterns along your palm. His touch was so achingly careful, like he was afraid you might break.

"Az," you murmured, watching the way his fingers ghosted over your skin. "I’m not made of glass."

"I know."

"Do you?"

His jaw clenched. "I just…" He trailed off, searching for the words. "You're so—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I could snap a Fae warrior’s arm without a second thought, but if I hold you too tight, I might bruise you." His thumb brushed over your wrist, where a faint mark from your last sparring session with Cassian remained.

"You think I don’t know that?" You curled your fingers around his. "I know what I am, Azriel. I know I’m not as strong as you. But I also know I can handle myself. My fragility doesn’t make me weak."

He swallowed hard, nodding. "I don’t think you’re weak." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I just—" He hesitated before finishing, "I don’t want to be the reason you hurt."

You squeezed his hand, tilting your head to press a kiss against his knuckles. "You’re not."

His eyes flickered to yours, and something in his expression softened. A slow, steady exhale left his lips. He didn’t argue this time.

Instead, he shifted closer, tucking you against his chest, his wings wrapping around you in a protective cocoon. You listened to his heartbeat, steady and sure, as his arms curled around your waist.

"I love you," you whispered against his skin.

His hold on you tightened just slightly—still careful, still mindful—but no longer hesitant.

"I love you too," he murmured.

And despite your lingering exhaustion, despite the fragile bones and mortal skin, you had never felt stronger.

[classyrbf]

CALL HIM DADDY! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...when you jokingly call the jjk men ‘daddy’ just to see how they’d react

INFO...jjk men (toji, nanami, geto, gojo) x fem!reader, suggestive, fluff, crack fic kinda, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

TOJI

You were washing the dishes, finally scrubbing the last plate as Toji at his snack on the couch. You turned the faucet off, shaking the excess water into the sink before you turned to Toji, a smirk forming on your face. The entire time you were washing dishes, you remember seeing a video where a girl pranked her boyfriend by calling him ‘daddy’ in the most casual way possible.

You cleared your throat, leaning against the sink. “Hey, daddy, can you pass a napkin to dry my hands?” You stared at him, waiting to see his reaction.

“Yeah, of course, ba—wait what the hell did you just say?” His brows pinched together as he stood from his spot on the couch. He slowly walked over to you, placing his snack on the countertop.

“I asked if you could pass me a napkin,” you repeat.

“Nah, nah,” he shook his head, “you said something else before that.” He narrowed his eyes at you, slowly closing the gap between the two of you.

It was getting hard to keep a poker face, finding it difficult to stare into his eyes. “What are you talking about, Toji?” You sighed. “You’re hearing things, old man,” you scoffed, turning away from him with a smirk on your face.

“Oh, so now I’m old man, huh? Not daddy? Hm? Hm?” He grabbed at your waist, pulling you closer to him to the point you couldn’t hold back your laughter.

“It was a prank!” You laughed, tears in your eyes.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman. I swear.” He pecked your lips, smiling at you. “Though, I think we should try that in the bedroom.”

“Toji Fushiguro!” You yell as he lifts you over his shoulder and carries you to the room.

GOJO

You and Gojo were so casually getting ready to watch a movie before he asked if you wanted any snacks from the kitchen. “Yes, please, some chips and soda.” You gave him a tender smile. A few minutes went by as he came back with a bunch of snacks you didn’t even ask for, but you knew they were most likely for him.

“Your chips and soda.” He placed the bowl in your lap and the cup in your hand. “Want any candy?” He asked, pointing to the sour strips he was munching on.

“I’m okay, thank you, daddy,” You causally said before placing a chip in your mouth.

His eyes shot up in surprise before he began choking on the sour strip. “O-oh, my god.” He began coughing, hunching over.

“Satoru, are you okay?” You rubbed his back before he turned to look at your with the most shocked expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“Am I okay? Baby, you literally just called me daddy! Damn near lost my life!” His voice was still rough from all the coughing.

“What?” You asked, pretending to be confused.

“You….just…called…me…daddy.” He leaned closer towards you with each word spoken.

“Toru, I love you, but never in a million years would I call you that. Play the movie.” You shake your head in disbelief, looking towards the the tv.

“Say it again.” Toru grabbed at your hands, holding them to his chest. “Say it again, please!” He begged while you ignored him, continuing to eat your chips. “You think I’m daddy? Am I? Come on, baby. I can be so daddy!”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at how serious he was taking the whole situation. Your eyes landed upon his expression, an offended look in his eye. “I’m sorry, Toru!” You cackled.

“You’re not funny,” he mumbled, turning away from you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Awe, baby,” you coo, cupping his face and kissing his cheek, “you’re so daddy, okay?”

He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Promise?”

“Yes,” you giggle, “promise.”

NANAMI

You were getting ready for bed as Nanami read his book in the living room with the light dimmed. He had his reading glasses on, so focused on the words on the page before you walked over to him. “Going to bed?” He looked up from his book.

“Yeah,” you yawned, nodding your head.

“Well, alright. Goodnight, I love you.” He returns your kiss when you lean down to peck his lips.

“I love you too, daddy.” You smile, walking towards the bedroom. He goes back to reading his book, adjusting his glasses as he reads the next few lines on the page. Suddenly, he places the book on his lap and looks around the room. Nanami quickly gets up and follows you to the room, seeing that you’re already under the blankets.

“Honey?” He whispers.

“Yes, Kento?” You open your eyes to find him standing in the doorway.

“What did you say in the living room a few seconds ago?” He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I love you?” You say, raising a brow.

“Yeah, that’s what, uh, I thought.” He bites the inside of his cheek, adjusting his glasses once more. “You sure that was all?” He furrows his brows.

“Yes, Kento, I’m sure.” You let out a tired sigh before turning over in the bed, pulling the covers over your face. “Goodnight, daddy.” You cover your mouth with your hand in attempts to hide your laughter.

You feel the bed sink beneath you, his hand coming up to pull the blanket from your face. “I don’t mind you calling me daddy, but please, don’t try and hide it. If you’d like to try something new just let me—”

“Ken, baby, it was a prank!” You sit up in bed, laughing. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” You hug him, kissing his cheek. “You thought I was being serious?”

“Well…yeah.” He blinks, cheeks flushed a light pink. “I…kinda like it,” he admits.

“Oh!” You say, slightly shocked. “I’ll keep that noted.”

GETO

You were getting ready to leave to the mall, grabbing your keys and slipping your shoes on at the front door. Geto walked over to say goodbye, grabbing at your hand. You kissed him quickly before saying, “bye, daddy.” You tried to rush out the door.

“Bye, mommy.” You quickly turned your head with a look of shock. Geto returned your expression, still holding your hand. “What?”

“What’d you just call me?” You shut the door, locking it.

“I didn’t say a word.” He shook his head at you. “You’re the one who said something.”

“No, no, don’t turn this around on me, Suguru Geto!” Your jaw dropped.

“You’re the one who called me daddy!” He retorted.

“Not even!” You quickly snap back.

“Yes, huh! Mommy!” He yelled, laughing at you.

“Not, uh! Daddy!” You shouted back at him before both you began laughing with each other. “You’re no fun, I was trying to prank you.” You pout.

“Can’t prank me, love.” He kissed the top of your head, slightly chuckling. “Have fun at the mall, m’kay?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I love you.”

“I love you too, mommy!” He joking says as you shut the door his face.

[thesecondhandwoman]

Vi, Jinx, Sevika and Caitlyn (separate) with an s/o who self harms? I couldn't find any rules on your pinned page, so sorry if this violates anything!

SELF HARM CONFESSIONS

Arcane woman x f!reader

Synopsis: How arcane woman (Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Sevika, Ambessa, Mel, Grayson) would react when they find out that you cope with your mental struggles through self-harm and respond with different types of comfort as a result.

Request: Anon 🤍

VI

Vi had always been observant. Her years in the Lanes taught her to read people, spot dangers, and sense when something wasn’t right. That’s why, as much as you tried to hide it, she noticed.

You were seated at the kitchen table, mindlessly picking at the hem of your sleeve unconsciously while Vi leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Her brows furrowed, her red hair glowing faintly under the warm kitchen light.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” she started, her voice soft yet probing. “And don’t tell me you’re just tired, babe. Something’s up.”

You froze, keeping your eyes downcast. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t give me that,” she pushed, stepping closer. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Her use of the pet name chipped away at your resolve, but you stayed silent. Then her hand was on yours, her calloused fingers tugging your sleeve up. You flinched, trying to pull away, but she was faster. Her breath hitched as her eyes landed on the faint scars and fresh marks that littered your arm.

“Sweetheart,” Her voice cracked, breaking through your defenses. Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled your arm away, hiding it in your lap.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words tumbling out like a confession. “I didn’t know how else to—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. She crouched in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Don’t apologize for this. Just why didn’t you tell me?”

You bit your lip, unable to meet her gaze. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Vi let out a shaky laugh, one filled with disbelief and heartbreak. “A burden? Babe, you’re my whole damn world. I’d carry whatever weight you’re holding if it meant you didn’t have to feel like this.”

She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her chest. You sobbed against her, and she held you tighter, her fingers running through your hair.

“We’ll figure this out,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve got me, okay? You’re not alone, and I want you to know that.”

JINX

Jinx had been watching you closely for weeks. Her scatterbrained nature didn’t stop her from noticing the way you winced when she grabbed your arm or how you avoided her eyes when she asked if you were okay.

That night, she cornered you in her workshop. The dim lighting cast shadows across her face, her wide blue eyes boring into yours.

“Alright, spill it, toots,” she said, hands on her hips. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, trying to sidestep her. But Jinx wasn’t having it. She grabbed your wrist, gently but firmly, and tugged you closer.

“Liar,” she teased, though there was no humor in her voice. “You’re hiding something.”

When she rolled up your sleeve and saw the faint scars, her playful demeanor evaporated. “What… what is this?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tears filled your eyes as you tried to pull away. “It’s nothing. Just forget it. I told you, it’s nothing.”

“No way,” she said, her voice wavering. “It’s not nothing, sugarplum, and neither are you, because I know that you are probably thinking that right now to do this. You’re my favorite person.”

The sincerity in her voice made your tears spill over. “I’m sorry, Jinx. I didn’t mean—“

“Shh,” she cut you off, pulling you into a tight hug. “Don’t be sorry. Just promise me you’ll tell me when you’re feeling like that, okay? I’ll never judge you for something like this. We’ll figure it out together, step by step, even if they’re small.”

You nodded against her shoulder, her chaotic energy melting into a rare moment of calm as she held you, lightly rubbing your back.

CAITLYN

Caitlyn had always prided herself on her investigative skills. So when she started noticing the long sleeves you wore in the heat of summer and the distant look in your eyes, she knew something was wrong.

She confronted you one evening in the parlor, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she watched you fidget.

“Darling, is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, her voice gentle but insistent.

You hesitated, but her sharp eyes didn’t miss the way your hands gripped your sleeves. Without a word, she reached out, brushing her fingers over your wrist.

“Please,” she said softly. “Let me in, tell me what is wrong, dear.”

The tears came unbidden as you rolled up your sleeve, revealing the scars. Caitlyn’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, taking your hands in hers.

“Oh, my love,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you, and I was scared of how you might see me because of this.” you whispered.

Caitlyn shook her head vehemently, her grip tightening. “You could never disappoint me. You’re the most important person in my life. Please, let me help you.”

She pulled you into her arms, holding you like you might break. “We’ll get through this,” she promised, her voice steady. “I’m sorry you’ve felt like this for so long, my love.”

SEVIKA

Sevika wasn’t one to pry, but when she noticed the scars on your arms during a rare moment of intimacy, she couldn’t stay quiet.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice low and measured as she traced the faint lines with her prosthetic fingers.

You tried to pull away, but her flesh hand caught your wrist. “Don’t,” she said, her tone soft yet firm. “Talk to me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you couldn’t hold it back anymore, knowing that you were already painted red, so you confessed, your voice shaky. “It’s just… sometimes it’s too much.”

Sevika didn’t speak for a long moment, her eyes locked on yours. Then she pulled you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you protectively.

“Listen to me, doll,” she said, her voice steady. “I don’t care how messy things get—I’m here for you. Always, mk?”

She lifted her hand and lightly cupped your cheek, her expression becoming even more sympathetic as your eyes swelled with unshed tears. “I’ve been through my own rough shit and I get how it is, all tiring, always frustrating, but I promise you aren’t alone.”

You cried into her chest as she stroked your back, murmuring soft reassurances. “You’re my girl,” she said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And I’m not letting you go through this by yourself, doll. I promise.”

AMBESSA

The sound of the door opening made your heart drop into your stomach. You hadn’t expected Ambessa to return so soon. You froze, the small blade still clutched in your trembling hand, red droplets forming at the edges of the fresh cut on your arm.

“Dove?” Ambessa’s voice echoed through the room, low and firm, tinged with the warmth she reserved only for you. You scrambled to pull your sleeve down, your movements clumsy with panic, but it was too late.

Ambessa stood in the doorway, her sharp eyes narrowing as they landed on you, taking in your pale face and the way you hastily tried to hide your arm. She stepped forward, her heavy boots thudding against the floor, and you instinctively backed up, bumping into the edge of the desk behind you.

When she saw how scared you were, skittish and small, she immediately looked confused and worried. “What were you doing?”

You stayed quiet, clenching the hem of your sleeve as you stared down. “Nothing, love, just waiting for you.”

“Let me see,” she said, her tone calm but commanding.

“No,” you stammered, clutching your arm protectively. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Ambessa didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her eyes darted down to the faint stain of blood that had soaked through your sleeve. Her jaw tightened, and she exhaled sharply through her nose.

“Dove,” she said again, softer this time, her voice trembling just slightly. “Please, let me see.”

You hesitated, tears welling in your eyes as you slowly loosened your grip and allowed her to gently take your wrist. She pushed the fabric of your sleeve up with careful fingers, revealing the fresh cut alongside the faint scars of others that came before it. Her eyes moved over the marks, her expression unreadable.

For a moment, the room was silent except for your shallow breaths. Then Ambessa knelt before you, taking your hand in hers. Her usual unshakable confidence seemed to waver as she looked up at you, her golden eyes glistening.

“Why, dove?” she asked softly, her voice thick with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shook your head, biting your lip to stop it from trembling. “I didn’t want you to think I was weak,” you whispered, barely able to meet her gaze.

Ambessa let out a low, shaky breath and reached up to cup your cheek with her free hand. Her palm was warm, grounding against your skin. “Weak?” she repeated, almost incredulous. “You’ve survived so much, little dove. There’s nothing weak about you. But this?” She gestured gently to your arm. “This isn’t something you have to face alone, nor do because it seems like the only reliever.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you broke down, your shoulders shaking with sobs. Ambessa immediately pulled you into her arms, holding you close to her chest. Her embrace was firm but gentle, her chin resting on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, clutching at her shirt.

“No, dove,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Don’t apologize. Just let me help you. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words wrapped around you like a safety net, her steady presence making the weight you’d been carrying just a little easier to bear. She rocked you gently, her strong hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“We’ll get through this together,” she whispered, her voice as steady as her resolve. “I’ll fight every battle with you, dove. You don’t have to bleed alone.”

You nodded weakly against her chest, your tears soaking into her shirt as she continued to hold you like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because to her, you were.

MEL

Mel had a way of drawing the truth out of people, her natural elegance and empathy making it impossible to lie to her. When she first noticed the scars on your arm, a fleeting glimpse as you adjusted your sleeve, she didn’t say anything. Not right away. Instead, she observed, waiting for the right moment to approach you.

That moment came one quiet evening in her private study. You’d been sitting together in silence, the golden glow of the lamps illuminating her features as she worked on a painting.

“My love,” she began, her tone casual yet deliberate, “I’ve noticed something. Will you talk to me about it?”

You stiffened, your heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

She set her brush down, turning to face you fully. Her gaze was gentle, but it pierced through every wall you’d built. “I saw the scars, darling,” she said softly. “You don’t have to hide them from me.”

Your breath caught, and tears filled your eyes but you held them back as you stammered, “I—I don’t know what you are talking about, love.”

Mel crossed the room and knelt in front of you, taking your hands in hers. “Y/N, my love, you do know that you don’t have to hide this from me, yes? I know it may be a sensitive topic, and I get if you are not ready to fully talk about it, but I hate to see you hurt yourself.”

You stared down at her as the tears stung to far and started trailing down your cheeks, causing you to choke on a sob. “I—I just didn’t want to see how weak I am, especially if it makes me do this.”

Mel paused, looking at you with a look of disbelief and love. “Weak? My love, you are not weak for surviving through the pain in your own way. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do it alone, not anymore atleast.”

She brought your hands to her lips, kissing them tenderly. “I want to help you, however I can. You are everything to me.”

Her words broke through the dam, and you sobbed as she pulled you into her arms. “You’re safe with me,” she whispered, stroking your hair. “Always.”

GRAYSON

Grayson was the epitome of calm and collected, especially due to being an enforcer. Her steady presence made you feel safe, but it also made it hard to open up about the pain you carried. Still, she wasn’t one to ignore when someone she loved was struggling.

She first noticed when she brushed against your arm during a casual hug, her keen eyes catching the slight flinch you tried to hide. Grayson didn’t say anything then, but later that evening, right after shift as you sat together on the couch with a cup of tea, she addressed it.

“Darling,” she began, setting her tea aside. “I’ve noticed something, and I need you to be honest with me.”

You froze, your cup trembling in your hands. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes softened as she reached out, placing a hand over yours. “I saw the marks, love. You don’t have to explain if you’re not ready, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you glanced at her before looking down at your wrists. You could feel the pain rise just from looking at the area, but the reminder that it helped.

Slowly, you took a breath and whispered, “I didn’t want to worry you. You’re always so strong, and I didn’t want to bother you with this.”

Grayson’s expression shifted, a flicker of heartbreak crossing her face. She set your cup aside and pulled you into her arms, her embrace gentle yet firm.

“Oh, darling,” she murmured, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re never a bother to me. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

Her calm voice washed over you like a balm. “Whatever’s hurting you, I want to be here. Whether it’s listening or talking with you about other options, I couldn’t care less, as long as you know that we are doing it together.”

You sobbed against her, and she held you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice steady. “More than anything. And I’ll always be here for you.”

A/N: I honestly got a lot of requests for this, and I know that it might be a very sensitive topic for some people. However, for however it touches on a more personal level, I hope that you guys are okay and know that you are enough (and hoping this was able to comfort you a little).

[heliosunny]

Helloooo!!! Sorry to bother, but Could we get a part two of your Yandere!Mydei x Neko! Reader? Its really given me interest and I think it’d be cool, them marrying and all and how would reader react to it? How would it go? Would reader end up enjoying the marriage or suffer in it?

Yandere!Mydei x Neko!Reader [2]

Visit [part 1]

Days turned into weeks, then months, life at Mydei’s estate had become… normal. At least, as normal as it could be when you lived under the same roof as a man who seemed hellbent on making your life difficult—in the most infuriating ways possible.

The maids now treating you with respect (if not a little wariness, given your close relationship with Mydei). You had found small ways to be useful, helping organize documents, assisting in the gardens, and occasionally running small errands for Mydei’s work.

You had gotten used to everything.

Except him.

Because somehow, no matter how much time passed, Mydei always found new ways to tease you. And you never saw it coming.

One morning, you were walking through the hall when

“My, my. Has anyone told you how adorable you look when you’re lost in thought?”

You flinched, ears twitching violently as you whirled around. Mydei was leaning against the wall, watching you with that damn smirk of his.

“You—” You exhaled sharply. “Can you not sneak up on me like that?!”

“I wasn’t sneaking” he said. “You were just too distracted to notice.”

“What do you want?”

He stepped closer, towering over you. “Nothing much. Just enjoying the view.”

“Stop saying things like that!”

“Oh?” His smirk widened. “Would you prefer if I whispered it instead?”

You bolted. You can hear his laughter followed you down the hall.

Another time, you were in the library, trying to reach a book from a high shelf. Just as you were about to grab it, a hand easily plucked it away. You huffed, turning—only to see Mydei flipping through the pages, his expression casual.

“…Mydei.”

“Yes, pet?”

You held out your hand. “Give it back.”

He hummed, tapping his chin. “I don’t know… What will you give me in return?”

“It’s my book!”

“And I’m simply holding it,” he mused. “Now, if you really want it back, perhaps a little please, my dear lord might do the trick?”

You lunged for it.

He lifted it higher.

You jumped.

He stepped back.

This continued for a full minute before you finally grabbed onto his arm, using your weight to drag him down.

Both of you tumbled onto the couch, you landing half on top of him.

You stiffened as Mydei’s arms settled around your waist, his breath warm against your ear.

“Well, this is quite bold of you, pet” he murmured. “If you wanted to be in my arms, all you had to do was ask.”

You flew off him.

The book?

You completely forgot about it.

His victorious chuckle haunted you for the rest of the day.

No matter how much time passed, no matter how comfortable you became in his estate—you would never get used to him.

----

You had woken up expecting another normal day.

Instead, you found yourself curled up in the blankets, significantly smaller than usual.

Your ears twitched. Your tail—wait, your tail?!

You looked down, and instead of hands, you had small, soft paws.

You had… transformed. It was rare—so rare that you barely even remembered the last time it happened. But maybe, just maybe, it was a side effect from when you had sacrificed one of your lives to save Mydei.

Panic flickered in your chest.

You had to find a way to change back before Mydei saw you like this.

The bedroom door opened.

“Pet—” Mydei’s voice started casually before he stopped, scanning the empty bed.

A deep frown tugged at his lips. “Where did you run off to this time?”

Your fur bristled. He was already assuming the worst.

…Well.

Maybe this was an opportunity.

He doesn’t know it’s me.

If he thought you had simply gone out, then you had time to figure things out. A little harmless wandering wouldn’t hurt, right? And so, you took full advantage of your new form, slipping out of the room undetected.

For the first time in forever, you explored the estate in your small, feline form.

You darted between the hallways, slipping past the maids’ feet, leaping onto high bookshelves with ease. You even snuck into the kitchen and stole a snack—not that anyone could blame a harmless little cat, of course.

But the best part?

Watching Mydei suffer.

He waited in the main hall, arms crossed, golden eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Still not back...” he muttered, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair.

The longer you stayed hidden, the more irritated he became.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair before grumbling, “When they come back, I swear I’ll keep them locked in my room for a week.”

Maybe you should stay like this a little longer.

You continued your little adventure, enjoying the rare freedom that came with being small and swift. The estate was huge, and in this form, it felt even bigger. You weaved through the garden, basked in the sunlight by the windowsill, and even had a little fun swatting at the occasional falling leaf.

It wasn’t often you got to just… relax without Mydei teasing you every five minutes.

Speaking of him, you found him near the entrance of the estate, still looking for you.

You perched on a high wall, ears twitching as you observed him. He looked mildly annoyed.

“They’re still not back” he murmured to himself, fingers running through his hair. “Where in the world did you run off to, pet...”

You watched, amused. If only you could tell him.

That’s when his gaze flicked up and locked directly onto you.

“A cat?” Mydei tilted his head, his irritation fading into mild interest.

Your tail flicked.

He didn’t recognize you.

Perfect.

You were about to hop away when suddenly—

“Come here” Mydei said, his voice taking on that damn smooth, commanding tone.

Your body reacted before your brain did.

Before you knew it, you had leapt down.

Right into his arms.

…What?

You blinked, startled at yourself.

“Well, well. Aren’t you obedient?”

You screamed internally.

Why did you listen?! It had to be instinct—some part of you still used to following his commands.

Noticing your frozen state, Mydei chuckled, gently scratching behind your ears. “You’re quite the cute little thing, aren’t you?”

He brought you inside, casually petting your fur as he read through paperwork.

“You’re quite the well-behaved cat” he mused, fingers lightly scratching under your chin. “Unlike a certain someone I know.”

You flicked your tail against his hand in protest.

At dinner, he set a small dish of food beside him.

“For my little guest” he said.

You glared at him but ate anyway.

At some point, he held you up, his eyes analyzing you closely.

“…Why do I feel like you remind me of someone?”

Maybe it was time to run.

The moment you finished eating, you bolted.

Mydei barely had time to react before you dashed out of the room, paws barely making a sound as you disappeared into the halls.

For a second, he just sat there, blinking at the now-empty space beside him.

“Running away already?”

His amusement didn’t stop him from standing up, golden eyes glinting as he chased after you.

You weaved through the garden, slipping through bushes and around hedges, your small form making it easy to avoid detection.

Or so you thought.

Because when you finally made it to a tall tree at the edge of the estate and climbed up to safety, a shadow loomed below.

“There you are.”

You looked down.

Mydei stood at the base of the tree, arms crossed, an expression of clear amusement on his face.

“You really thought you could escape me?”

Then, to your absolute horror, Mydei climbed up after you.

Your instincts screamed at you to move, to get higher, to escape.

So when Mydei finally reached up to grab you, you lashed out.

A startled scratch landed on the back of his hand.

You froze, realizing what you had just done.

He looked at his hand, a small scratch marking his skin.

Your ears flattened, guilt washing over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward and licked the wound.

Mydei went completely still.

“That’s not how you treat a wound” he said, though his voice was more amused than scolding. “Honestly, are you a cat or a troublemaker?”

You huffed, lightly swishing your tail.

With an exasperated shake of his head, he reached out—this time, more carefully—and scooped you into his arms.

“You’re coming inside. No more running off.”

Even as he carried you back, even as he got someone to properly treat his hand, even as he kept you close for the rest of the evening—

You had a feeling he was never going to let you live this down.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You shifted slightly, feeling warmth pressed against you—something solid, something comforting.

Your ears twitched.

Wait.

Your ears?

Your tail?

Your eyes snapped open, and you quickly looked down at yourself.

Hands. Fingers. A normal-sized body.

You were back to normal.

Which meant—

A slow, sinking realization hit you as you felt the steady rise and fall of someone else’s breathing right beside you.

You turned your head—

And came face to face with Mydei.

His arm was draped around your waist, holding you firmly in place.

You were in his bed.

What. The. Hell. How did this happen?!

You wracked your brain, trying to recall the night before—but all you remembered was him carrying you back inside. At some point, you must have fallen asleep, still in your small form.

Which meant—he had probably taken you to his bed to keep an eye on you.

But now that you were back to normal, you had to get out of here.

Slowly—very slowly—you tried to move.

The moment you even shifted, Mydei’s arm tightened around you.

“Mm… Trying to escape again, pet?”

“I—I wasn’t—”

“Then why are you trembling?”

You were trembling. Your body was practically vibrating with embarrassment. This was not good for your heart.

“I—um—”

Before you could say anything else, he suddenly reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“…Back to normal, hm?” His voice was softer now, “Shame. I rather liked carrying you around.”

Nope. You were leaving.

You quickly tried to roll away—only for his grip to pull you back.

“Ah, ah. Not so fast.”

You squeaked. He chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered state.

With a sigh of mock disappointment, he finally loosened his hold. “Fine. I suppose I can let you go… for now.”

You didn’t waste another second, bolting from the bed.

You had spent the entire day hiding.

The embarrassment from that morning still burned in your mind, and there was absolutely no way you were going to let Mydei see you again so soon.

Unfortunately, your stomach had other plans.

By the time evening rolled around, hunger had fully betrayed you.

Your ears flattened as you peeked out from your hiding spot, making sure the path was clear before sneaking towards the kitchen. If you were quick, you could grab something to eat and disappear again.

You didn't believe in your own eyes. Standing at the stove, sleeves casually rolled up, was Mydei himself. You nearly turned around immediately, but your stomach let out a small, betraying growl.

Mydei didn’t even turn around.

“I was wondering when you’d finally show up. Hiding all day must’ve been exhausting.”

You swallowed down your embarrassment and shuffled over, cautiously standing beside him.

“…You cook?”

He smirked, stirring the pan. “Occasionally.”

The warm scent of food filled the kitchen, and despite your shame, your tail gave the tiniest flick of anticipation.

Noticing this, Mydei chuckled.

“You must be starving.”

You refused to answer, but your stomach growled again, exposing you.

Without warning, he picked up a piece of the food with a fork and held it up to your lips.

“Here, eat.”

You hesitated.

He raised a brow. “What, suddenly shy?”

Your ears twitched in protest. He was doing this on purpose!

Still, hunger won in the end.

You leaned forward, taking a bite.

…It was good.

Really good.

Your tail swayed slightly before you could stop it.

Mydei noticed immediately.

“You like it?”

You quickly turned away, trying to hide your reaction. “It’s… decent.”

He chuckled, clearly seeing right through you.

But instead of teasing further, he simply fed you another bite.

And another.

Until you realized—

You hadn’t even picked up a plate.

You were just standing there, letting him feed you.

Just as you were finishing your meal, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your ears.

A man strolled into the kitchen, dressed in deep navy robes embroidered with intricate golden thread. His jewelry glimmered under the warm candlelight—rings, necklaces, even a few delicate chains woven into his sleeves.

Your ears perked up.

Shiny.

The man exuded a regal yet laid-back air, his dark brown hair tied back loosely as if he didn’t care much for appearances, despite the wealth he clearly carried.

“Mydei!” the man greeted smoothly, giving a short nod. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Mydei sighed. “That depends. If you’ve come to dump your problems on me again, I may have to reconsider allowing you in.”

The man laughed. “Oh, don’t be so cold. I bring interesting news.”

You barely paid attention to their conversation because you were too distracted by the gold. It wasn’t your fault! It just—sparkled.

You stood behind Mydei, eyes locked onto the shimmering rings as the man casually gestured while speaking. The way the candlelight bounced off the metal, the soft clink they made whenever he moved his hands—

Your tail flicked in fascination.

Mydei noticed. His golden eyes glanced over his shoulder at you, catching the way you were so entirely focused on his guest’s accessories.

And yet, you didn’t care.

You just kept staring.

A chuckle escaped his friend. “Well, aren’t they an interesting one?”

That was when you finally snapped out of it, realizing how obvious you had been.

Heat rushed to your face, and you quickly straightened up, clearing your throat as if that would erase the past minute.

The man smirked in amusement before offering a slight bow. “Elias Von Luthen. A pleasure to meet you.”

You hesitated for a moment before murmuring your own name in response.

He smiled, then added, “I must say, I don’t often see Mydei with company. You must be rather special.”

Your ears twitched, and Mydei merely sighed. “Don’t start.”

Elias ignored him, continuing, “Actually, I came here because I’ve been dealing with a rather elusive group. My companion has been helping me, but we could always use more sharp senses.”

He paused, glancing at you.

“If you’re interested, you could accompany me. It would be beneficial to have another of your kind along. You’d be well compensated, of course.”

You blinked. You weren’t entirely opposed to the idea. The thought of traveling, using your skills, and even learning from another hybrid was tempting.

But before you could even consider it, Mydei spoke first.

“They’re not going anywhere.”

Elias raised a brow. “Oh? I wasn’t aware you had them bound to you.”

“I don’t. But if you think I’d let my dear companion run off with you so easily…”

He leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking toward you.

“…Then you clearly don’t know me well enough.”

Elias finally stood, stretching his arms as he let out a satisfied sigh. “Well, this has been quite the pleasant visit, but I should be on my way. My friend is probably wondering if I got kidnapped.”

He turned to you with a smirk. “If you ever change your mind about my offer, you’re always welcome to find me. Though… judging by Mydei’s reaction, I doubt you’ll get far.”

Your ears twitched, and you glanced at Mydei, expecting a sharp remark or at least a smug retort.

But strangely… he said nothing.

He merely watched Elias leave with an unreadable expression before turning on his heel and walking off without a single word to you.

Weird.

Usually, he’d at least tease you about your staring or make a sarcastic remark about Elias’ offer. But this time? Nothing.

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or suspicious.

Hours passed, and you didn’t see Mydei again.

At first, you assumed he was just busy. Maybe he had some business to attend to. Maybe he was just giving you space.

But when you asked the maids if they’d seen him, one of them hesitated before replying:

“His Grace? He left the estate for something. We’re not sure what, but he seemed… oddly pleased about it.”

…That definitely set off alarms in your head.

Because if Mydei was pleased about something, it always meant trouble for you.

Meanwhile, in the depths of the city’s underground market, Mydei was browsing through a selection of rare and enchanted artifacts.

He held up a small, shimmering vial, speaking smoothly to the vendor.

“This,” he mused, watching the liquid shift inside, “will definitely do the trick.”

Oh, he wasn’t letting you off that easily.

If you thought he’d forget how easily distracted you were by shiny things…

Well. You were about to sorely underestimate him.

That night, you were restless. Mydei still hadn’t returned, and the silence was starting to get suspicious. You knew he wasn’t the type to just disappear without reason—especially after Elias’ visit.

Something was definitely up. But no one knew where he went, and that was even worse. Just as you were about to give up and retreat to your room, the main doors finally creaked open.

Mydei strolled inside, his coat draped lazily over one shoulder. He looked too pleased.

You immediately took a cautious step back. “...Where did you go?”

His smirk widened. “What, no ‘welcome home’?”

“You’re up to something.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, delicate vial filled with a swirling, shimmering liquid.

Your eyes caught the way it sparkled under the chandelier light.

Your instincts locked onto it immediately.

Shiny.

Wait.

You forced yourself to blink and look away. “...What is that?”

Mydei hummed, casually twirling the vial between his fingers. “Oh, just something interesting I found. Nothing too important.”

“If it’s nothing important, then put it away.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why? Does it bother you?”

You knew that tone. That was his teasing tone.

Which meant he definitely had bad intentions.

“Nope. Not at all.”

“Hmm.”

The next thing you knew, he popped the cork open.

The scent hit you instantly.

Your instincts flared.

Your pupils dilated before you could stop them.

The air carried something sweet, enticing, almost hypnotic. Your tail twitched, and your body suddenly felt too warm.

“What—what is that?”

You took a step back, but your body felt wrong. Your senses were sharper, your ears picking up even the faintest rustle of fabric as Mydei took a step closer.

Your claws itched to grip onto something.

Oh hell no.

You spun on your heel to run.

But before you could even take another step, Mydei effortlessly caught your tail.

“My, my,” he mused. “Are you reacting to it?”

“Y-you—this—this is—!”

He gave the slightest tug on your tail, and your breath hitched.

Your instincts were screaming at you, but not in a way you could control. The warmth in your chest made you restless, and Mydei’s smirking face only infuriated you further.

So, you did the only thing that made sense in the moment.

You bit him. A sharp chomp right on his wrist.

“Ah—” Mydei barely reacted, only letting out a small chuckle, though you felt the slight tension in his arm. “Oh? That’s adorable.”

You glared up at him, ears pinned back.

“I hate you” you hissed, teeth still sunk into his skin.

“You sure about that? Because you’re still holding on.”

Your tail bristled, and you finally let go, stepping back with a sharp huff.

Unfortunately, you moved too quickly, causing something to topple over.

A loud clatter echoed through the hallway.

“My lord?” A servant’s voice rang out from the other side of the door. “Is everything alright?”

Your ears flattened in panic. If they walked in right now, they’d see the absolute mess you had caused—your ruffled clothes, Mydei’s slightly scuffed sleeves, and the very clear bite mark on his wrist.

You lunged for the door and quickly locked it before she could push it open.

Mydei chuckled, leaning against the desk like he was thoroughly enjoying this. “Hiding the evidence now?”

You shot him a glare.

“Everything’s fine!” you called out, trying to sound normal.

“…Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Then, reluctantly, the servant’s footsteps faded as she left.

You let out a breath of relief.

But your problems were far from over.

Because Mydei was still holding that damn vial.

Your eyes flicked toward it.

Surely… surely it wouldn’t do anything to a human, right?

You lunged.

Mydei’s eyes widened slightly at your sudden movement, but before he could react, your hand smashed into his, knocking the vial loose.

Time seemed to slow.

The shimmering liquid tumbled through the air. It spilled all over him.

The scent immediately intensified, and before you could even process what had happened—

Your instincts snapped. Your ears twitched. Your body moved on its own. You pressed yourself against him and, without thinking—

You licked him.

Right on the neck.

Mydei was more than shocked.

You, however, did not stop.

Your tongue dragged over his collarbone, your hands clutching onto his coat as you instinctively nuzzled into him, your body overcome with warmth and an undeniable urge to—groom.

You had never been this overwhelmed before.

And yet, all you could focus on was how good he smelled, how nice he felt, and how much you wanted to—

“Ah.”

His voice rumbled in amusement.

You froze mid-lick.

Slowly—very slowly—you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

Golden eyes gleamed with pure satisfaction.

“My, my,” he murmured. “This is far better than I expected.”

Your soul left your body.

You tried to move away.

You really did.

But your body betrayed you, instincts still running rampant, and instead of pulling back—

You licked him again.

---

Finally, finally, it was over.

Whatever effect that damn vial had on you finally faded, leaving you exhausted, drained, and wanting nothing more than to curl up and disappear from existence.

Your body gave out, and before you could stop it, you instinctively popped back into your full cat form—small, fluffy, and completely sprawled out on top of Mydei.

You were too tired to care.

And, surprisingly… he didn’t move you.

You barely registered the way his hand rested against your fur, his fingers giving one last teasing scratch before he finally drifted off.

By the time morning arrived, you were back to normal.

And Mydei was gone.

You sat up, ears twitching, eyes darting around the room in slight panic.

He wasn’t here.

Lucky.

You weren’t sure if you could face him right now—not after what happened. Your tail flicked, a deep shame curling in your chest as you remembered every single embarrassing thing you did.

You licked him.

Multiple times.

You needed to erase that from history.

But more importantly—

You needed to ban that damn vial from existence.

Without wasting another second, you bolted out of bed, snatching up a pile of blank parchment and a stick of charcoal.

You were going to make it very clear that such a thing was never allowed in this house again.

It took hours.

But by the time you were finished, the entire estate was plastered with your angry little sketches—hastily drawn pictures of the accursed vial, each one crossed out with a big, aggressive “X.”

Some were on the doors.

Some were on the walls.

Some were even on Mydei’s office desk.

And to your absolute satisfaction, no one stopped you.

The servants said nothing.

Mydei—who had definitely seen them—said nothing.

He probably thought it was hilarious, but at least he wasn’t teasing you about it.

Yet.

For now, you stood back and admired your work, hands on your hips, tail flicking in satisfaction.

Good.

That thing was never coming back.

[reiding-writing]

Hi! Congrats on the 3k followers!

I'm so sorry, I kind of realised that I only gave a dialogue prompt and not a trope in my earlier request so is it okay if I revise my ask?

So, can I please request:

dialogue prompt: (spencer) always turning (his) head if your name is mentioned (falling in love)

trope: affectionate smiles and eyes crinkling with a smile that's directed specially at you.

spencer era: early seasons!spencer (season 1/2)

Thank you so much and have a wonderful day ♡

THE TELL. /spencer reid/

(spencer) always turning (his) head if your name is mentioned

affectionate smiles and eyes crinkling with a smile that's directed specially at you.

s1! spencer x gn!reader 0.5k fluff event masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | thank you lovely <3

You don’t think much of it at first. It’s a coincidence, probably. A quirk. Spencer is attentive by nature, always listening, always absorbing. The kind of person who notices things others don’t.

But then it happens again. And again.

“Yeah, I was just talking to—”

His head turns before your name is even fully spoken. Like clockwork. His hazel eyes snap toward the sound, his fingers faltering on the pages of whatever book he’s reading. The shift is quick, automatic, like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

It happens at briefings, during casual bullpen chatter, even across the jet when someone brings you up in passing. If your name is mentioned, Spencer is looking for you.

At first, you chalk it up to habit. Spencer is naturally curious, always interested in conversations. But after weeks of catching his gaze lingering just a second too long, of noticing the way his expression softens when he finds you, doubt creeps in.

And it doesn’t help that Morgan catches on.

Like now, in the bullpen, when he throws a teasing remark over his shoulder—something lighthearted, your name tucked into the middle of it—Spencer reacts instantly.

His head lifts. His gaze lands on you. And there it is again. That look.

Morgan smirks knowingly. “See? Like clockwork,”

Your face heats up. “That doesn’t prove anything,”

Morgan leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Come on, tell me you haven’t noticed. The man could be halfway through a genius-level thought and still turn at the sound of your name,”

You risk a glance at Spencer. He’s still looking at you, but now his brows are drawn together, confused. “What doesn’t?”

You shake your head, fumbling to look busy with your case file. “Nothing, Reid,”

But Morgan’s amused expression doesn’t help the way your heart stutters in your chest.

Because now that you’re paying attention, you realise it’s not just the way he looks for you. It’s the way he looks at you.

That soft, warm-eyed kind of attention. The way his posture relaxes when you’re nearby. The way his lips curl into a small, barely-there smile—different from the polite, tight-lipped ones he gives others.

And then, just as if to make things worse, Spencer does it again.

He smiles at you.

Not just any smile. That smile.

The one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, the one that’s softer than the ones he gives the rest of the team. Like he doesn’t even realise he saves it just for you.

Your breath catches.

You swallow hard, pretending you’re still reading the words on the page in front of you. But they blur together, meaningless.

Morgan chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

Because Spencer is still looking, still smiling like you’re the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

And yeah.

You’re in trouble.

[lizasweetling]

flying as in 'sent flying' at minimum

He'll probably be mostly alright?? Probably??

[kashverse]

Hi ! What about babykuna's first fight at school or on the playground ? How would it happen? How would her parents react to the comments of the teacher or the parent of the child that babykuna fought against?

By the way I love your writing ❤️

Coming back on your page is part of my routine, now ❤️

babytoru was first introduced in this post, if you missed it out :P

the playground is truly a battleground of politics, alliances, and power struggles. the young rulers of the sandbox empire have their territories marked—some reign over the swings, some control the seesaws, but the slide? the slide is where real power is decided.  on this fateful day, all was running smoothly. the queue was in order. kids were waiting their turn, deals were being made—who gets the best spot in the sandpit, who gets pushed on the swings, and of course, who gets the ultimate first slide down. but then—disaster struck.

enter babytoru.

babytoru, the undisputed princess of the gojo household, struts up to the slide like a celebrity at the met gala. she is wearing a custom LV dress with designer shoes that probably cost more than someone’s mortgage, and she is here to take what is hers. babytoru, with all the grace and arrogance of a true queen, points at the slide. "i wanna go first."

everyone in the queue freezes. it is a declaration of war.

the kids exchange nervous glances. no one dares oppose babytoru—not because they’re scared of her, but because they know—somehow, she always gets what she wants. so naturally, the line parts like the red sea. babytoru hops onto the slide, smug as ever. but what she doesn’t realize is that in her moment of unwarranted self-glorification, she has landed in the worst possible place.

babykuna’s spot.

now, babykuna is not one for dramatics. but she is also not one to be disrespected. and right now, she is disrespected. babykuna’s chubby little arms cross over her chest. her lips purse. her four-year-old glare is burning with the fury of a thousand betrayed souls. babytoru, completely unbothered, smirks at her. "you can push me now."

the playground goes silent. the kids hold their breath. babykuna does not hesitate.

she shoves babytoru.

it is not a graceful shove.

babytoru goes tumbling.

she hits the slide at maximum velocity, flipping over like an olympic gymnast who wasn’t ready for their routine. and then—

SPLAT!

she lands face-first into the sandpit. the horrified screams of the playground fill the air. babytoru is motionless. for a moment, the world stands still. and then—

she wails.

"MY DRESS!"

babykuna immediately starts crying too. "you stole my spot!"

now there are two very loud, very distressed toddlers crying at top volume. the playground is in chaos. some kids have fled the scene. others are watching, fascinated. the sandpit kids do not care because they are deep in their own battles. meanwhile, the fathers arrive. 

gojo, upon seeing his daughter crying in designer fashion disaster, immediately crouches beside her, trying very hard not to laugh. “oh my baby—oh my god, you should’ve seen how you fell—wait, no, i mean, are you okay?” babytoru sniffles dramatically, lifting a sand-covered hand. "my dress is ruined."

gojo bites his lip to stop a grin. “it’s just a little sand, princess. we can—pffft—wash it off.” babytoru glares, lower lip wobbling as she lifts her sand-covered dress.

"this is LOO-WISS… VUHH… VUHEE… VU-TON!"

gojo loses it.

“pffft—yeah, okay, we’ll get your ‘loo-wiss vuhee vu-ton’ dry-cleaned, princess.”

"DADDY!"

meanwhile, sukuna is having a different kind of breakdown. his daughter, his sweet babykuna, is standing there, red-faced, tears streaming, looking both guilty and furious at the same time.

"you okay, kid?"

babykuna, between deep sobs, hiccups, "she—she STOLE MY SPOT!"

sukuna, massaging his temples, exhales, "yeah, yeah, kid, i saw. and you, uh… handled it."

he takes out a tylenol. he dry swallows it. "you’re gonna apologize," sukuna sighs. babykuna stomps her tiny foot. "she should apologize!"

babytoru, still wiping sand off her precious LV dress, gasps. 

"you PUSHED ME!"

"YOU TOOK MY SPOT!"

"YOU TRIED TO MURDER ME!"

"IT WAS A SHOVE!"

"MY DRESS!"

"MY SPOT!"

gojo bursts out laughing. sukuna rubs his face in pure exhaustion. this is going to be a long day.

[straw-berrysoju]

The Tease (18+)

Pairing: Soobin x female reader (smut)

Synopsis: YN is failing English, and her quiet, soft-spoken tutor Soobin is her last shot at passing. But she’s more focused on tempting him than studying—flirty remarks, suggestive touches, revealing outfits. She wants him to lose control. And maybe teach her how to behave.

Setting: College AU | Age gap: 2 years | Private tutoring sessions | Senior -junior dynamic

Genre: slow-burn, smutty build-up, needy fl

Warnings: suggestive content, sexual tension, teasing, oblivious (or very self-controlled) Soobin, needy and bratty fl, unprotected sex(pls be safe y'all never skip protection), oral sex, anal sex

Word Count: 3.1k

Minors dni!

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

You didn’t expect your literature professor to assign him as your tutor.

Choi Soobin.

Tall, broad-shouldered, annoyingly soft-spoken Soobin. The kind of senior who showed up to class fifteen minutes early just to get the best seat and probably highlighted his notes in pastel color-coded perfection.

And worse? He was gorgeous in a way that felt unfair. Sharp jaw, full lips, thick lashes, and a voice deep enough to curl your toes when he said things like “Turn to page twenty-seven.”*

You were doomed from the first session.

Because Soobin, for all his charm and bedroom eyes, was utterly, painfully innocent. Or at least, he acted like he didn’t notice the way your skirts kept getting shorter. Or how you started showing up in clingy little tops, gloss on your lips, your perfume just a little sweeter than usual.

If he noticed, he never said a thing.

Which only made you want him more.

---

Session Two: The Beginning of the Game

You trade your hoodie and leggings for a soft, slinky V-neck tee and shorts so short you have to pull them down every time you sit. When he opens the door, you smile like nothing’s changed.

He does a double-take. Barely. His eyes flicker down, but they don’t linger.

“You look… ready to work,” he says with a nod.

You hum, dropping onto the edge of his bed—the only surface you two can sit on since his room doesn’t have a proper desk. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you say, crossing your legs slowly.

He sits beside you, opens your notebook, and starts circling mistakes in red ink like the outline of your thighs isn’t right there in his peripheral vision.

You shift. He doesn’t look. You lean in. He scoots a little away.

It’s frustrating but it only makes you crave him more.

---

Session Three: You Up the Stakes

You pick your outfit carefully—white tank top, no bra. Just soft fabric clinging to your skin. You tilt your neck as you sit beside him on the bed again, fingers trailing lightly over your collarbone.

“It’s really hot in here,” you murmur, fanning yourself.

“I can turn the fan on,” he says immediately, rising like a soldier responding to a command.

You pout, but he doesn’t see it. He’s already across the room.

When he comes back, you lean back on your arms, arching your back just a little. His eyes flicker to your chest—but only for a second.

You catch it.

Still, he sits back down like nothing happened and starts explaining compound sentences again.

You blink slowly, letting your eyes trace the curve of his lips, the way his fingers grip the pen tightly.

You want them on your skin.

But Soobin just keeps talking.

---

Session Four: The Drop

You “accidentally” drop your pen in his lap mid-sentence. It lands on his thigh, dangerously close to the center.

“Oops,” you murmur, leaning in to grab it before he can react.

Your fingers brush something firm. Warm.

His breath catches, just slightly.

You pause. Meet his eyes.

He looks startled—like he’s holding his breath.

“Sorry,” you whisper, your hand still there for a second longer than necessary. “Didn’t mean to.”

He clears his throat and slides your pen back into your hand, avoiding your eyes.

“Uh… so, anyway—” He flips to the next page, visibly tense.

You bite your lip.

He’s definitely noticed now.

---

Session Five: Hands-On Learning

You rest your hand on his thigh this time.

Just gently. Just casual. Just to see.

He stiffens beneath your palm.

You start reading your worksheet aloud, pretending not to notice. You trail your thumb in slow, lazy circles as you speak. His breathing slows. His pen stills.

“You’re… uh,” he says, not looking at you. “You’re missing a modifier in that sentence.”

You glance over at him. “Maybe I just need some… hands-on correction.”

He finally looks at your hand.

Then back at the paper.

And you swear he’s using every ounce of willpower in his body when he doesn’t move it away.

---

Session Six: Dangerous Territory

You’ve stopped pretending this is about tutoring.

Your skirt today is indecent. Your tank top is cropped to the edge of decency, and when you stretch, a sliver of skin shows just under your chest.

You lean over him, breasts brushing his arm as you reach for your phone.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sorry at all.

His arm tenses. His eyes flick to your chest. You see him swallow.

Then he sits up straighter, shifting away.

“Let’s stay focused,” he says, voice slightly strained.

You blink at him, all fake innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

He meets your gaze. His eyes are darker than usual.

“No,” he lies.

---

Session Seven: On the Edge

You moan.

Softly.

Not on purpose—not really. You just stretch, tired from trying to care about grammar, and a little sound slips out. Frustrated. Drawn out.

His head snaps up.

“You okay?”

You nod, lips parted. “Just… tired. This stuff is hard.”

Soobin’s jaw tightens.

“I can slow down.”

“I like it when you go fast,” you say without thinking.

Silence.

His eyes flick to your lips.

You shift closer. “Soobin,” you say softly, “why do you always sit so far away?”

“I don’t,” he says. But he does.

You’re barely breathing now. You’re close enough to smell his cologne, the clean warmth of it making you dizzy.

He looks at you like he wants to say something.

And then he stands up.

“I think we’re done for today,” he says, not looking at you.

You want to scream.

---

You know he’s close to breaking.

You see it in the twitch of his fingers when you reach for his pen instead of yours. In the way his knee bounces when your thighs brush under the table. In how he never sits back once during a session anymore—just leans forward, elbows on his knees, like he's trying to put as much space between your body and his as possible.

So of course, you push more.

And God, you hope he breaks.

You want to see the exact moment he snaps.

---

Session Eight: New Tactics

You're late on purpose. Not by much—just seven minutes. Just enough to have him open the door with furrowed brows and a furiously working jaw.

You pout up at him. “Sorry, Soobinnie.”

The nickname makes his ears go pink.

You step inside, brushing past him on purpose, your arm grazing his chest.

It’s warm. So firm. And for a moment, you wonder what he’d do if you just turned around and pressed your body against it.

But not yet.

You sit cross-legged on the bed, skirt barely covering you. You wore a lacy bralette under your loose cardigan and a skirt you’d be terrified to wear outside.

He notices. You know he does.

His eyes lower—just for a second—before he opens your textbook like it offended him.

“I marked your assignment,” he says, like he’s not obviously distracted.

You hum, stretching back on your palms. “Am I improving?” you ask, letting your chest lift slightly with the motion.

He doesn’t look. His neck goes stiff.

“I think you’re… testing me.”

Oh?

“Testing your patience?” you tease, eyes glinting.

He turns a page too hard, the paper nearly tearing. “Let’s start with sentence corrections.”

You grin.

---

Session Nine: Body Heat

Soobin is already seated on the bed when you arrive this time. Legs apart. Slouched like he forgot to be tense.

You take it as an invitation and plop down next to him—closer than usual. Your bare thigh touches his denim-clad one.

He tenses immediately.

You pretend not to notice.

You lean over the textbook between you, making sure your side is practically glued to his.

“This part confuses me,” you say, pointing vaguely.

He leans in too. And you tilt your head until your cheek almost brushes his shoulder.

He smells like citrus and cedar. Clean, masculine, unfair.

His fingers start explaining something, but you’re not listening. Not really.

You shift your weight and accidentally press your chest against his arm.

You stay there.

He clears his throat, voice tighter. “You’re… really close.”

You smile, eyes wide. “We’re sharing a book.”

“Right.”

He doesn’t move.

---

Session Ten: The “Accidental” Fall

It’s late. You’re both tired. The room’s dimly lit, the lamp on his desk throwing warm shadows against the walls. Your cardigan is slipping off one shoulder, and you make no effort to fix it.

Soobin is explaining something. You’re half-listening, half-admiring the veins on his forearms as he gestures.

You shift positions, stretch lazily—and then fake a little wobble.

“Shit—”

You catch yourself—sort of—your hand landing right on his thigh as you tip forward onto him.

You gasp. Your chest lands against his stomach. Your hand is just inches from his crotch.

He freezes. So do you.

Only, you’re pretending.

“Sorry,” you whisper, staying there just a second too long. You’re almost in his lap.

He inhales sharply.

“You okay?” he asks. Voice like gravel.

You nod. “Just clumsy.”

You slide back into place, fingers trailing down his thigh as you pull away.

He swears under his breath.

You smile into your hand.

---

Session Eleven: Legs

You sit sideways today, knees up, leaning against the wall while he sits on the bed beside you. Your skirt slips higher with the position. You don’t adjust it.

You stretch your legs across his lap.

“Hope you don’t mind,” you say sweetly. “My back hurts.”

He looks down at your thighs—bare, smooth, warm against him.

“I—uh—no. It’s fine,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t touch you.

But you can feel the way his muscles tense under you.

Every time you shift, his jaw tightens.

At one point, your foot brushes against something solid.

You freeze. So does he.

You raise an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t answer.

Just flips the page harder than necessary.

---

Session Twelve: The Whisper

You’re behind him.

It wasn’t planned, but he’s standing now, scanning your paper at his desk while you linger behind him on the bed. His shirt has ridden up a little. You see a sliver of skin.

You rise slowly. Walk over.

He doesn’t notice you until you’re right behind him.

You lean in, your breath brushing his neck.

“I think I’m failing,” you whisper.

He jolts, turning slightly.

You don’t back up. Just tilt your head, close, lips nearly brushing his jaw.

“You’ve been helping me so much,” you say softly, voice dipped in honey, “but I feel like I’m just… not focusing.”

He swallows.

“Maybe you should punish me.”

He turns to face you fully now, eyes locked with yours.

And fuck, there’s something in them.

Something dangerous.

Then he steps back.

“Break time,” he says tightly. “Five minutes.”

He practically flees the room.

You flop back on the bed, laughing into the pillow.

He’s so close.

---

You decide you’re done playing fair.

You’ve been soft, suggestive, patient.

And he’s still trying to pretend you’re just clumsy. That you just don’t know what your body’s doing when you’re crawling into his space with skirts that barely cover your ass and sweaters that hang open to show just enough lace.

Tonight? You're not leaving any room for confusion.

Tonight, you're making it filthy.

---

Session Thirteen: Endgame

You show up wearing his weakness: a tank top so tight it clings to your tits like second skin, no bra. And the shortest shorts you own—barely more than underwear. One wrong move and you’d be flashing him everything.

Good.

He opens the door and doesn’t even blink at first.

Just stares.

Then swallows hard. “You, uh… going somewhere after?”

“Just here,” you say innocently, breezing past him.

He follows, a little stiff. (Everywhere but his cock.)

---

You don’t sit on the bed this time. You crawl.

Slowly. Deliberately. Letting the hem of your shorts ride up.

Soobin’s behind you, silent.

You sit on your knees and look over your shoulder. “Coming?”

You swear his eye twitches.

He sits beside you, at the very edge of the bed.

You don’t open the textbook. You don’t even pretend to care.

Instead, you drag your fingers over your own thigh slowly, tracing a lazy path toward the hem of your shorts.

He notices.

Of course he does.

“You okay?” he croaks.

“Mmhm. Just hot.”

And with that, you reach back and lift your hair, exposing the sheen of sweat on your neck.

He watches you like he’s in pain.

You lower your voice. “Can I sit in your lap?”

He chokes. “What?”

You pout. “My legs hurt. It’s just for a sec, Soobin.”

He stares. Doesn’t answer.

So you do it anyway.

You straddle him.

Carefully, deliberately, sliding onto his lap with a weightless innocence that’s anything but.

You feel him the second you settle—his thighs tense, cock already thick and pressed between you, trapped under his sweats.

He still doesn’t move.

Doesn’t touch you.

Just freezes like if he blinks you’ll disappear.

But you’re not going anywhere.

You shift slightly, grinding just a little.

Not enough to be obvious.

But enough to feel him twitch beneath you.

He inhales so sharply it’s almost a gasp.

You lean forward, your lips brushing his ear.

“Am I making it hard for you to focus?” you whisper, your breath hot against his skin.

He finally reacts.

His hands grip your waist—tight, tight—but he still doesn’t pull you closer.

“Y/N…” he warns, voice shaking.

You roll your hips again.

His jaw clenches.

“I just want your attention, Soobin,” you murmur, lips brushing his jaw now. “I want you to stop pretending you don’t want me.”

“You’re my tutee,” he grits out, “I’m trying to be good.”

You smile wickedly. “I don’t want you to be good. I want you to make me feel good.”

And then you do it.

You grind hard—slow, filthy, full pressure.

Right against his cock.

He groans. Deep and choked and utterly ruined.

Still, he doesn’t move.

So you tip your head back and moan.

Loud.

“Fuck, Soobin…”

His hands tremble on your waist.

You do it again.

And again.

His cock is so hard it’s pressing against you, leaking through the thin fabric, and you’re soaked now—completely shameless.

“I’ve been thinking about this every night,” you whisper, breath hitching, “about how it would feel to ride your cock right here… right on your stupid study sheets…”

“Stop,” he rasps.

But he’s grinding back now.

Breathing hard.

Losing it.

“I touch myself thinking about you, Soobin,” you murmur, lips at his neck now. “About how you’d sound when you finally fuck me. If you'd make me beg first. If you’d make me cry for it…”

He groans. His hips buck up once—completely involuntary.

You whimper at the contact.

And that does it.

That breaks him.

His grip slams tight around your hips and suddenly you’re dragged down onto him, hard, his cock pressed directly against your soaked core through layers of clothes he’s about two seconds from tearing off.

His forehead drops to your shoulder.

“You’ve been driving me fucking insane,” Soobin growls, your body pinned to his lap, soaked through and trembling.

“Then ruin me,” you whisper, voice wrecked with lust. “Please, Soobin. I need it.”

“Fuck me like I belong to you”

Something snaps in him.

His mouth crashes into yours.

No hesitation. No gentleness.

Just teeth and tongue and all the desperation he’s held back for weeks.

You gasp into him and he swallows it, hands already yanking your tank top up over your tits.

“No bra?” he mutters darkly, palms closing around your breasts. “You planned this.”

You moan as he thumbs over your nipples, rough and fast. “I wanted you to look.”

“I did. Every fucking day.”

His mouth drops down, lips wrapping around one nipple, tongue lashing it hard as his other hand slides down—under your shorts, under your panties—and slams two fingers into you.

You scream.

“So wet,” he groans, thrusting them deep. “You’re soaked through everything. Fuck, baby, were you this needy all semester?”

“Yes,” you cry, hips bucking against his hand. “All for you, Soobin.

He chuckles against your breast, lips curling cruelly.

“Oh, I know.”

He pulls back and flips you onto your back like you weigh nothing. Your shorts and panties are ripped down your legs in seconds. He drops to his knees between them, eyes locked on your soaked pussy.

“God,” he breathes, voice shaking. “Look at you. You’re a fucking mess.”

Then his mouth is on you.

Tongue everywhere—sliding through your folds, flicking your clit, sucking it hard as he finger-fucks you like he’s mad at you.

You can’t even moan—you scream.

Your back arches, hips lifting, and he slaps your thigh down.

“Stay fucking still.”

You whimper, twitching under his mouth. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Cum,” he orders. “Now.”

You shatter.

Soobin doesn’t stop.

Even as you squirm and sob, overstimulated, his tongue keeps working your pussy like he’s starving.

You’re begging, babbling nonsense, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

And when he finally pulls away, face glistening, lips slick with your cum—

You’ve never seen anything so hot in your life.

“You thought you could tease me,” he mutters, climbing back up your body. “Thought you could grind on my cock and walk away?”

You nod, dazed.

He smirks and grabs your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes flutter. “Wrong.”

He frees himself from his sweats—thick, veiny, hard as sin—and you whine the second the tip rubs against your dripping entrance.

“Beg for it.”

“Soobin—”

“Beg.”

You sob. “Please, fuck me. I need it. I need your cock so bad—please ruin me, please—”

He slams into you in one brutal thrust. Your pussy clenches around him as you scream his name.

“Ah Soob—FUCK. Yes”

Soobin groans deep in your ear, his cock buried to the hilt. “You’re so fucking tight. Jesus—made for me.”

He pulls out halfway, then slams back in.

You cry out.

He sets a pace that’s vicious—deep, punishing, your body jolting with every thrust.

Your nails rake down his back. Your moans turn into sobs.

“Yeah,” he pants, fucking you harder. “Take it. This is what you wanted, right?”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Yes—yes, please—harder—”

He grabs your hips and slams into you, over and over, cock pounding your g-spot until you can’t think.

“Gonna cum again,” you choke out.

“You better,” he growls. “You don’t stop cumming until I say so.”

You cum again—harder than before.

And he fucks you through it.

Every twitch, every scream, only fuels him.

He doesn’t stop.

He flips you onto your stomach, pulls your ass up, and fucks you from behind—his hand in your hair, dragging your head back.

“You like being used?” he snarls.

“Yes—fuck—use me, please—”

He spanks your ass, hard. “Louder.”

“Use me, Soobin—fuck me until I can’t walk!”

And he does.

He slams into you until your body collapses.

Until you’re a sobbing, ruined mess under him.

Until he finally groans, “Fuck—I’m cumming—where?”

“Inside,” you beg. “Please. Fill me—”

Soobin growls your name and pours into you, hips jerking as he empties himself deep.

You collapse together, sweaty and panting.

Silence, save for your wrecked breathing.

And then—

“You still failed that assignment,” he mutters against your neck.

You laugh, breathless. “Then maybe you should punish me again.”

He grins.

“Oh, I plan to.”

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

[ckret2]

I wonder what Hikari would think about the reveal of why his dad REALLY adopted Kage. Those feelings are gonna be complicated as hell.

anon ur in luck ive got 11 pages worth of comic about how EVERYONE reacts to it.

(for context if anyone missed it, we're talking about this samurai jack AU here where when the emperor makes Aku he goes "well this thing is my son now" and takes it home, at which point This Thing ("Kage") promptly decides that Jack ("Hikari") is his twin brother.)

They're not finding out that the emperor didn't want to make Kage and was just trying to rid the land of evil until they're teens, at which point Kage's gotten more than a decade and a half of:

try to look less scary. no, even less scary. can you just look like your brother? look like your brother

don't tower over people, it's weird for a three-year-old. PLEASE stick to a human height. okay yes that's a human height but standing a foot over the guests intimidates them, don't do that.

new rules: when your brother is here don't be taller than him; when he's not but others are, don't stand taller than the shortest of your superiors or the tallest of your equals and inferiors. it's polite.

keep your claws to yourself. and your fangs. and your eye lasers. and your undead minions—just don't do necromancy in public ok.

do not start fights with people. stop fighting. NO FIGHTING.

why did you run instead of fighting that insolent bully who accosted you outside the palace

(making jack (and aku) look 17 is hard. we don't really get any good references for jack's transitional looks between 13-ish and adult.

making aku sound like a whiny teen while maintaining his canon born-talking-like-an-old-man-in-an-ancient-epic-poem speech patterns is hard too.)

(Aku: "sunshine /sarcastic")

Hikari is, of course, still a Good Guy. and being a Good Guy means Loyalty To And Respect For Your Family. In some of the dominant philosophies of the area/time—Confucianism, for instance—loyalty to your family, even when they're in the wrong, is a higher virtue than doing what would otherwise be the "right" thing.

and to him, his father and his weird shadow brother are equally his family, and he's watched them be at each other's throats for years, playing the unwilling referee like "okay but kage you WERE a jerk" / "father don't you think that was maybe a little harsh"

there's no neutral zone on this issue though. dad said "i didn't want to make you, i was just trying to destroy evil and instead got you." Maybe canon Jack would be sympathetic to the difficult position his father was in, but canon Jack isn't a teen who's viewed The Evil Shapeshifting Wizard Aku as his brother his whole life.

He's had to watch for years as their father's reprimands wore down this demon for whom being good—never mind good enough—is so difficult it's almost painful. Typically loyalty to your father is supposed to come before loyalty to your brother, but there's only so much an adoptive twin can take.

I think there's a lot of ways the emperor could end up revealing the truth—a deliberate confession to try to clear the air, or blurted out in anger during a fight—but however it happened and however the emperor meant for it to be taken, the end result's the same:

Kage runs.

history lesson! along with a set of several other classics, Confucius's teachings on politics/etiquette/philosophy/religion formed the backbone of Chinese culture for millennia—and leaked out to have a lesser influence on neighbors like Japan and Korea—and for 1500 years you couldn't get a government job in China without studying these texts for the imperial examination. the better a job you wanted the more & harder exams you took. imagine if ever since the middle ages, nobody in europe was allowed to be a lord, duke, senator, prime minister, anything, unless they had a PhD in plato's writings, and that's very roughly how china worked.

which means: 1) these exams are a big deal; 2) you're a very smart and important person if you pass even a few of the exams, much less all of them; 3) it takes a LONG time to work your way through all of them; and 4) there's absolutely no fucking reason for a Japanese prince to take them unless he wants an impressive-sounding excuse to get the hell out of the country for a decade.

also i basically made this whole post as an excuse to draw Aku sneering "filial piety" with as much venom and sarcasm as possible.

They don't know what they're doing. They're 17 and stupid.

But they're a package deal, you can't separate them. Except maybe with contrived plot events that force them apart in order to put them through unnecessary pain, grief, and character growth. Forget I said that last sentence.

Ever since they were born, Kage has had to live in/as Hikari's shadow; if Kage has to run away from home, Hikari will return the favor and shadow him. And besides, Hikari's a little bit fucking furious about this situation. Filial piety goes both ways; and if father won't respect one of his sons then he doesn't get the other one either. (he's kind of making up his understanding of filial piety as he goes.)

"hey puff why are they 17 years old?" asked nobody.

okay! so in canon we know Aku attacked when Jack was eight years old; and the talking dogs dated Jack as coming from 25 years before Aku's conquest, so I'm taking that to mean he's 25 years old; so that's a gap of 17 years that Jack spent training.

Aku is only a day old when the emperor traps him in that Hexxus-looking tree. He attacks the kingdom the same day he's unleashed, and rules it til Jack comes back.

So that means—both in canon and in this AU—Aku is 17 years old when he gets stabbed through the heart.

[mirisss]

Poly! Enha with their katseye member gf

OT7 Enhypen x member of Katseye! female! reader

Wordcount ≈ 2.9k

Warnings: (Y/n) being clumsy, mentions of blood (no one actually bleeding though), food, I think that’s it. 

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it!

Please reblog and comment!

Third Person POV

It was a chill night in the Enhypen dorm. Heeseung and Jake were deep into a co-op shooter, eyes glued to the screen, barking commands and occasionally elbowing each other for missing shots. Jungwon and Jay had gone quiet with books in hand, though Jay kept highlighting things with unnecessary intensity like he was doing thesis work. Sunghoon and Sunoo were side-by-side on the floor, debating which jacket color looked better on their favorite fashion site. And Ni-ki, wrapped in a hoodie like a human burrito, was flopped on the beanbag, scrolling through TikTok with one hand and eating chips with the other.

Until he stopped mid-chew. “Wait,” he whispered, blinking at his screen. A video had popped up on his For You Page titled: “Katseye’s (Y/n) being unhinged on live for 13 minutes straight ft. the girl group barely surviving her 💅🔥😭” He smirked, thumb tapping instantly. Only ten seconds in and he was already giggling.

By the thirty-second mark, he knew he couldn’t gatekeep this gold. Without warning, Ni-ki tapped his phone screen and cast the video to the TV, interrupting Heeseung and Jake’s game in dramatic fashion. “NIKI!” “BRO WHAT THE-” “Shut up! You need to see this,” Ni-ki grinned, eyes wide. “It’s (Y/n). It’s chaos.” The room’s energy shifted immediately.

[Clip 1]

(Y/n) is seen in a hotel bathroom with Katseye’s Megan and Lara, trying to film a skincare routine. But instead of applying toner normally, (Y/n) yells, “This is how you awaken your soul!” and slaps the toner onto her cheeks with both hands. Hard. SLAP! Megan screams, “YOU’RE GONNA BRUISE YOUR FACE!” Lara collapses laughing off-camera. 

Jake choked on his drink. “Why is she hitting herself like a cartoon character?” Sunoo nodded seriously. “She really said: beauty through violence.”

[Clip 2]

Daniela is calmly trying to show fans how she makes her matcha, when (Y/n) walks behind her in a dinosaur onesie yelling, “BREAKING NEWS: GREEN BEVERAGE SUMMONS FOREST SPIRITS.” Daniela doesn’t flinch. “You’re so loud it’s honestly impressive.”

Jungwon cracked a smile. “The way Daniela didn’t even react. That’s true friendship.” Jay blinked. “I’ve never seen someone this unbothered by spiritual summoning.”

[Clip 3]

Katseye is live from their dorm kitchen. (Y/n) tries to flip a pancake, and it lands on the ceiling. “…that was intentional,” she says. Sophia gasps, “WHY IS IT STILL STICKING??” Manon: screaming in French

Sunghoon raised a brow. “Is that why she texted me ‘don’t eat the ceiling pancake’ last week?”

[Clip 4]

Yoonchae is trying to teach (Y/n) a simple dance move. (Y/n) trips over her own foot and rolls completely off camera. Katseye’s group chat name on-screen: “Support Group for (Y/n)’s Victims 💔”

Heeseung was laughing so hard he leaned on Jake for support. “I can’t breathe. Who allowed her to be an idol? I mean I love her, but damn is she clumsy,” 

[Clip 5]

(Y/n) deadpans into the camera while holding a plushie. “This is Peepo. He saw me eat an entire jar of pickles at 3am. He will never recover.” Megan in the background: “Neither will we.”

Jay sighed, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. “How is she both terrifying and adorable?”

[Clip 6]

The girls are doing a livestream Q&A. A fan asks: “Who’s the funniest member?”

Before anyone can answer, (Y/n) dramatically falls out of her chair yelling, “ME, OBVIOUSLY!” Everyone else just stares in exhausted silence. Daniela: “Every day I lose brain cells.” Lara: “I respect the confidence.” Yoonchae: “Please help us.”

[Clip 7]

(Y/n) finishes the live by yelling, “Thank you for coming to my TED Talk on why I should be banned from going live after 10pm!” The Katseye girls chant: “CHAOS! CHAOS! CHAOS!” Megan tosses a plush crown on her head: “Our gremlin queen.”

The screen fades out with dramatic black-and-white footage of (Y/n) walking away from the camera with oversized sunglasses and the text: “TO BE CONTINUED… probably by accident.”

The room was silent for two seconds. Then chaos erupted. “She’s a menace and I love her.” Jake said as he laughed loudly. “This is why we can’t take her anywhere public,” Heeseung followed, holding a hand on Jake’s shoulder as he laughed. “She needs to be studied. Or praised. Or both,” Sunoo continued. “Is she trying to give me a heart attack? Because it’s working.” Jay said, bothing meaning he’s getting a heart attack from worrying and from her cuteness. “Okay but her comedic timing is elite.” Jungwon said. “She’s going to livestream our wedding and set the cake on fire, isn’t she?” Sunghoon asked, followed by Niki who just answered: “CEO of Chaos. No lies detected.”

They watched the compilation two more times. Jake leaned back with a proud grin. “That’s our girlfriend, guys.” Jay snorted. “God help us all.” 

The boys had eventually drifted back into their usual activities after the chaotic compilation, though with more side comments about (Y/n) being the embodiment of a human tornado.

Knock knock knock knock-knock. The signature rhythm. They all froze for a second, then smiled. “She’s here,” Jungwon said, already sounding fond. Sunghoon got up immediately, already pulling the door open before she could knock again. There she stood, hair a little windblown, hoodie half-zipped over her dancewear, phone in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other.

”Hoonie!” she greeted him cheerfully, stepping right past like she lived there, well because, honestly, she kind of did. Her energy hit the dorm like a sugar rush: sudden, loud, and completely unstoppable.

“Ughhh, remind me never to laugh during practice again.” She kicked off her sneakers, one nearly hitting the shoe rack. “Our choreographer nearly threw her clipboard at me! Okay, maybe not threw, but she looked like she wanted to.”

The boys chuckled as she made her way into the living room, talking a mile a minute, hands gesturing wildly as she flopped onto the couch beside Sunoo, accidentally almost clocking him in the face. “Hey! Watch the face! Precious idol visuals here!” Sunoo yelped, dodging expertly. “Sorry! Sorry!” (Y/n) said, not sounding very sorry as she kept flailing.

“It’s not my fault that move looks like you’re trying to summon a sea demon!” She got up and did the move, flinging her arms out dramatically. “Like this,‘RISE, DEMON SQUID!’”

Jake, already laughing, scooted over and pulled her into his side, arms wrapping tightly around her. “I missed you.” His voice was low, warm against her ear, and it cut through her ramble like a sigh of relief. She smiled, softly, briefly, then leaned into him, letting herself rest there for a second before she resumed talking again like a record on loop.

“Oh, and Yoonchae tripped during a turn and took out Sophia like a bowling pin, and Daniela dropped her mic during rehearsal and it hit Lara in the foot who then stepped on my foot which made me turn around and kind of push Manon so she fell yelling what I think was my name, and with her fall, Manon accidentally grabbed Megan's hair causing her to fall over to, it was pure chaos. Katseye is falling apart. We need snacks. And a nap. But mostly snacks,”

“You brought snacks,” Sunghoon pointed out, watching her fondly from the armrest he’d perched on. “I always bring snacks,” she replied proudly, tossing the bag on the coffee table. “It’s called survival.” Heeseung reached for the chips like a vulture. “Survival for us too, apparently.”

Jay finally looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow. “Did you get scolded for the laughing or the dancing, exactly?” “Both!” she said with zero shame. “But mostly the laughing. And maybe the squid demon arms. I swear it wasn’t that dramatic in my head-”

“It never is,” Jungwon muttered playfully under his breath. (Y/n) pouted at him. “I feel judged.” “We just watched you hit yourself with a mic stand on livestream. You’re lucky we don’t wear body armor when you visit,” Ni-ki said, but he was grinning as he tossed her a cushion for her feet.

Jake kept his arm around her, pressing a kiss into her temple. “Still missed you, demon squid arms and all.” She turned to look at him, finally still for half a second. “I missed you guys too.” And though she said it simply, casually, the way her voice softened made all seven boys glance up, quietly aware of how much they adored her, chaos and all.

About thirty minutes later, the dorm had mellowed into a low hum again, Jake half-asleep with a throw pillow over his face, Ni-ki and Heeseung now arguing over which anime had the best fight scenes, and Sunghoon scrolling through something fashion-related with one earbud in.

Jay, ever the responsible one, stood up with a small sigh and stretched. “Alright. I’m making something,” he said, heading toward the kitchen. He glanced back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at (Y/n), who was still cuddled into the couch, now munching on one of the chips from earlier. “You haven’t eaten anything proper today, right?”

She winced sheepishly. “I had a little water.” “And?” “…half an apple?” “And?” “…a grape-flavored candy?” she offered, voice going small. Jay blinked slowly. “That’s a crime. Sit tight, I’m fixing it.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, pulling ingredients from the fridge with the practiced efficiency of someone who’d had to cook for seven chaotic men multiple times. It didn’t take long before the sound of chopping and the smell of sizzling garlic filled the dorm. (Y/n) peeked her head over the back of the couch, then quietly slipped away from Jake’s hold, earning a sleepy, half-mumbled “Babe, where you going?” from him. “Kitchen,” she whispered, patting his head. “Smells like someone loves me in there.” Jake groaned but let her go, flipping onto his back dramatically.

When she padded into the kitchen, Jay was focused, sleeves rolled up, brows slightly furrowed as he cut vegetables with clean, precise movements. “Need help, chef?” she asked, already reaching for the knife block. Without looking, he calmly said, “Nope.” “C’mon, I can do it, just a little!” He turned just in time to see her grab the knife confidently, upside down. “(Y/n), no.” He was by her side in two seconds, gently taking it from her hands. “But-” “You’re not losing a finger on my watch,” he said with a fond sigh. “You look cute, but I’ve seen you trip over nothing. Sit.” He patted the countertop, and she hopped up without protest, swinging her legs playfully.

From her new perch, she watched him move effortlessly around the kitchen. Every few moments, as he passed by her to grab another ingredient or adjust the stove, he would pause. And then, lean in to kiss her. On the cheek. On the forehead. On the corner of her mouth. Each time was soft, unhurried, and casual, like second nature.

And each time, she giggled. “You keep doing that, I might melt into the backsplash,” she teased, voice warm. Jay smirked without looking up from the pan. “Then I’d have to clean you up. Not happening.”

He added noodles into a pot, stirred the sauce gently, then came back for a small taste. While he did, he stood between her knees, resting one hand on her thigh, leaning in once again. “Princesses don’t cook, anyway.” He kissed her again, just below her ear. She let out a soft, contented sigh, arms loosely looping around his shoulders. “You always take such good care of me.” He looked up at her, eyes softer now, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “Of course I do.” He bumped his forehead against hers. “You deserve it.” In that tiny kitchen, under warm lights and the scent of garlic and soy sauce, with Jay moving gently around her like she was the center of his universe, it was easy to believe it.

Once Jay announced that dinner was ready, (Y/n) hopped off the counter with a proud, “Chef Jay, you are saving lives tonight,” and helped bring the food to the table. “Boys!” she called out toward the living room, hands cupped around her mouth. “Come eat before I start without you!” That was enough motivation. The stampede was immediate.

Jake and Ni-ki almost tripped over each other trying to get through the hallway first. Heeseung abandoned his game mid-round. Jungwon placed his book down neatly, unlike Sunghoon, who tossed his tablet onto the couch with zero regard for battery life. Sunoo had already been hovering near the kitchen door like a cat, waiting. Then came the real battle.

“I’m sitting next to her.” “No, I am!” “You sat next to her last time!” “That was movie night. This is dinner. Different rules!” (Y/n) just stood there, watching the chaos unfold like a queen surveying her court. Eventually, with a dramatic sigh, she clapped once. “Children! Settle down.”

Despite the commotion, it was Heeseung and Sunoo who snagged the prized seats, one on each side of her. “How do you guys always win?” Jake groaned, dramatically flopping into the seat across from her. “Manifestation,” Sunoo said, flipping his hair. “And divine favor.” As everyone tucked in, Jay took his usual seat across the table, subtly watching to make sure (Y/n) was eating enough. She didn’t need the extra pressure, though; her first bite had her humming in delight.

“Jay, this is amazing.” “Right? He snapped,” Jungwon said, already going in for seconds. And then came the pampering. Heeseung leaned over every few minutes to offer her a bite from his chopsticks. “Here. Try this one, mine’s got more sauce.” Sunoo would follow a moment later, gently dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin like a meticulous stage mom. “There, don’t want you looking like a food fight survivor.” Then he’d quietly refill her glass whenever it dipped below halfway full.

She leaned back a bit, mock-sighing with a smile. “I should come over more often. You guys really know how to treat a girl right.” “You absolutely should,” Heeseung said instantly. “Agreed,” Jay added without looking up from his bowl. “We could just keep her,” Jake said, half-joking. “Like, permanently.” “We’d have to build her a room,” Jungwon said, tapping his chopsticks against his lip in fake contemplation. “We’ll just kick out Jake or Ni-ki. Problem solved.”

Jake nearly choked on his rice. “Hey!” Ni-ki, mid-bite, looked up and frowned. “I vote we kick you out, Jungwon.” “Bold of you to assume you have a vote,” Jay added with a straight face. “If I’m getting kicked out, I’m taking the rice cooker with me,” Jake said defiantly, earning a chorus of gasps. (Y/n) giggled as she leaned her head against Heeseung’s shoulder briefly, while Sunoo dramatically clutched her hand like a wounded prince. “So much drama. And I haven’t even finished my plate.” The room was loud, the air filled with the sound of clinking chopsticks, overlapping conversations, laughter, and the occasional dramatic gasp or shout.

~~~

The dorm had shifted into its nighttime rhythm: lights dimmed, conversations quieter, the soft hum of showers running, and the rustle of blankets as everyone started settling in. With a long day awaiting them all, it was finally time to wind down.

In the bathroom, (Y/n) stood in front of the sink brushing her teeth, trying to sway a little to the lo-fi music playing from someone’s speaker in the hallway. Wrapped around her back like a sleepy koala was none other than Sunghoon, arms around her waist, chin resting lazily on her shoulder, and a toothbrush dangling from his mouth as he half-heartedly went through the motions.

“You’re not even brushing,” she mumbled through her toothpaste. “I ammm,” he whined, the words slurring slightly from the brush. “I’m multitasking. Hugging and brushing.” “Barely,” she said with a giggle, bumping her shoulder into his lightly.

She was dressed in a shirt that unmistakably belonged to Ni-ki, the hem nearly reaching mid-thigh, and a pair of Jungwon’s grey sweatpants, cuffed at the bottom so she wouldn’t trip over them. The waistband was rolled twice, but they still hung loosely on her frame.

When Ni-ki passed by the open bathroom door, intending to grab his water bottle, he paused. And blinked. Then blinked again. “You’re wearing my shirt.” (Y/n) nodded, foaming at the mouth with toothpaste. “Mmhm.” He stared for a second too long. Then he turned around, smacked his hand against the wall, and whispered to himself, “She’s so cute it’s physically painful.”

“You okay, Ni-ki?” Jungwon asked, poking his head out of the nearby room. Ni-ki just shook his head, muttering, “It’s the shirt. It’s doing things to me. I need to lie down.” Meanwhile, Jungwon’s gaze dropped to the pants. “Are those mine?” (Y/n) spat into the sink and smiled at him sweetly. “Yep.”

He crossed his arms and tried to act stern, but the corners of his lips were twitching. “You steal from all of us. Equal opportunity thief.” “I’m a collector,” she corrected. “Of oversized boyfriend merchandise.” Sunghoon, still half-asleep behind her, let out a content hum. “You can have all my hoodies. Forever. Just let me sleep like this.”

(Y/n) was then gently pulled between Heeseung and Ni-ki into one of the beds, Heeseung already half-snoring, Ni-ki dramatically wrapping the blanket over her with the precision of a five-star hotel turndown service. She nestled in, wearing their clothes, surrounded by warm limbs, familiar breathing patterns, and the occasional sleepy mumble, this must be heaven she thought before falling asleep. 

[rika-mmendmethings]

Heart Shot | Zayne

Summary: It started as a coping mechanism — a secret, anonymous flirtation you expected to burn out with the help of a pink bow and silly notes. But every arrow you fire lands closer to something real — and the man you thought was untouchable suddenly isn’t dodging anymore.

Tag(s): Zayne x nurse! Reader, lots of fluff, pre-relationship fluff, hospital romance, written with female reader in mind, second hand embarrassment, mild archer! Zayne, silly people in love.

Word count: 2.7k

Now playing: Cupid by FIFTY FIFTY

Notes: Formerly titled 'Bullseye'. Just woke up to see I had hit 400 followers this morning and in celebration of that, I'm releasing my first ever fic of Zayne. Hopefully everybody enjoys it ♥

As one of the most seasoned nurses in the cardiac wing, you’d long since earned the trust of even the most demanding surgeons. Battle-tested in emergencies and headstrong in crisis, you were a pillar of calm in the chaos of the OR. But nothing — nothing — had prepared you for the battle that was raging in your chest: a hopeless, all-consuming crush on none other than the head cardiac surgeon himself, Dr. Zayne.

He was brilliant, reserved, maddeningly unbothered by the flurry of emotion that seemed to ripple through everyone else whenever he entered a room. You had worked alongside him for years, and while others found his cold, clinical demeanor off-putting, you somehow saw the warmth that flickered beneath it.

You prided yourself on the professional companionship you shared with him — mutual respect, shared jokes on occasion, the rare but treasured smiles he allowed himself when you said something that genuinely amused him.

Which made your recent blunder all the more mortifying.

During a high-stakes mitral valve repair just a few days ago, you had done the unthinkable. You were assisting Zayne, as you had many times before, and everything was running smoothly. Until he said, “Clamps.”

But instead of responding with your usual efficiency, your eyes were glued onto his hands. More specifically, the veins beneath the taut latex of his gloves. Your body reacted a second too late and the clamps slipped from your grasp and hit the sterile floor with a horrifying clink. You scooped them up in a panic and offered them anyway, and watched as the whole OR froze.

Zayne didn’t take them. Instead, he looked at you with such sheer incredulity that you instantly recalled every page of your surgical instrument sterilization manual in horrifying detail.

“That’s contaminated,” he said icily from behind his surgical mask, not even looking at you — just through you.

Your brain, fueled by pure shame and meme culture, offered the only response it could muster: “Um… five-second rule?”

Later, in his office, he let you have it. Not with shouting, of course. Zayne never did shouting. He did disappointment. And he was very good at it. After a solid ten-minute monologue on sterility protocols and ‘having expected better from someone with your experience,’ you left his office to crawl back into the earth.

You avoided him after that. You rerouted your coffee breaks and volunteered for shifts that didn't have him. You stayed alert just in case you got a transfer notice, which, fortunately, you didn't.

But avoiding Zayne only made your feelings boil hotter under the surface. You needed an outlet, something to release the idiotic affection swirling inside your ribcage. And that’s how you — an educated, credentialed nurse — ended up ordering a hot pink plastic Cupid bow and arrow set online at 2:12 a.m.

It arrived the next day: neon pink, the arrows tipped with heart-shaped suction cups, and laughably dramatic. It was a viral gag gift, popular with people who liked playing Cupid on social media. Except you had taken it a step further.

You wrote little anonymous notes with compliments, sweet nothings, medical pick-up lines and rolled them up, taping them to the arrows. Then you smuggled the toy into the hospital and hid it in your locker in the break room.

Your plan? Ambush Zayne by firing one arrow per day until your dignity or your license gave out. Either he’d laugh (hopefully), report you to HR (realistically), or — by some divine miracle — be touched by your ridiculous display of affection and fall madly in love with you (good jokes). Your feelings needed to go, and you figured nothing would kill romantic delusion faster than mortifying yourself with humiliating public displays of nonsense.

Day one

It was a crisp Tuesday morning at the hospital, the kind where the scent of antiseptic still clung thickly in the air from the early shift’s rigorous cleaning. The morning meeting had just ended, and like a tide retreating, doctors and residents poured out of the conference room in clusters, their footsteps echoing against the linoleum as they dispersed to their respective duties. The fluorescent lights above buzzed softly, and the sun streamed through the high windows in thin, filtered beams, casting a tired glow across the sterile white floors. The air smelled of antiseptic and fresh paper, tinged faintly with over-brewed coffee from the break room down the hall.

You stood tucked behind a concrete pillar near the east hallway, your back pressed flat against the cool surface, heart thundering. You could feel the absurd shape of the toy bow poking into your hip from under your scrubs where you'd awkwardly shoved it sometime ago to sneak it with you. The arrows, with their bright pink foam hearts, stuck out of your jeans pocket and you pulled your scrubs tighter to hide them.

You peeked around the edge of the beige support pillar you were currently using as camouflage, your breath caught halfway between a prayer. The hallway was almost empty now, save for the subject of your ridiculous affection, standing in the middle of it.

Zayne stood with one foot slightly turned out, clipboard in hand, jade eyes focused on the patient chart in front of him. His dark hair was slightly tousled in that infuriatingly perfect way, his lab coat flaring just a little at the back like he’d walked off a medical drama set.

You glanced around, eyes darting to make sure no one else was around. The coast was clear. He was engrossed in whatever file he was reading, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

From behind the pillar, you fumbled with the bow. It squeaked when you pulled back the string. Of all the props in all the stores in the world, you had to pick the one that squeaked. Your fingers, steady as steel in surgery, trembled now like they’d never known stability. You nocked the arrow with shaky fingers, adjusting the rolled-up pink sticky note you'd attached earlier.

“Okay, just center it… gently. Like placing a suture,” you whispered to yourself. A little pep talk.

Your hands were slick with nervous sweat. You held your breath. You had no archery training. Your only reference point was seeing some of the Deepspace hunters having a bow as their choice of weapon and firing it at the wanderers that had once invaded Akso Hospital. You aimed — or attempted to — for his heart.

The arrow veered slightly to the right, missed Zayne’s heart by a good foot and a half, and stuck squarely to the back of his clipboard. You gasped — then immediately ducked back behind the pillar, flattening yourself against it like a character in a cartoon, chest heaving.

Peeking out with one eye, you saw him pause his reading and slowly tilt the clipboard towards himself to inspect the pink projectile now suctioned firmly to its back. He glanced around, likely trying to identify the source of it but found none. He peeled the pink sticky note off with a neutral expression, unrolled the note deliberately, and read it.

You watched from the shadow of the pillar as his eyes scanned the words. The line of his brow eased and then one eyebrow rose by just a millimetre. A reaction so subtle it might’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else. But not by you.

And that was all the information you could process before the adrenaline got the better of you and you took off — straight down the hallway, hurried footsteps, cheeks aflame, the bow clutched to your chest like you’d just committed some sort of crime.

You didn’t stop running until you were safely back in the break room, where you shoved the bow, slammed your locker shut, leaned back against it, and gasped for breath like you’d just finished a marathon.

Day two

You’d been on your feet for hours — morning rounds, a consultation, two new admissions. You weren’t on a break, not technically, but your last task had wrapped up ten minutes early, and that meant only one thing in your world now: it was time for the next attempt. Most of your colleagues were either in their departments or catching a quick snack before the next round of patient visits. You were just returning after restocking supplies when you spotted Zayne.

He was standing at the water cooler near the far wall, just off to the side of the hallway, his back half-turned to the corridor. It was a quiet spot, mostly out of view. He had his lab coat sleeves pushed up, and he was leaning slightly forward as he pressed the little plastic lever and filled his paper cup. You hated how effortlessly attractive he looked doing nothing.

You felt your fingers twitch.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you doubled back towards the break room, pulled open your locker, and took out the bow and arrow set hurriedly. You grabbed one of the arrows and checked if the little rolled-up note you’d stuck on it earlier was properly sticking to it.

You found a spot near the corner where a big decorative plant provided enough cover. Thankfully, today’s chosen target zone was a less dramatic setting than yesterday’s corridor. You crouched down slightly, gripping the bow like you were trying to remember how human hands were supposed to work.

You loaded the arrow, biting your lip as you adjusted your grip. You had practiced a little more since yesterday — nothing formal, just a few shots in your apartment before your cat had attacked the dangling heart-shaped arrow and nearly broken your kitchen lamp.

Your plan for today was simple: aim for the cooler. Hit the wall just above it. Let the arrow bounce off near him with enough proximity that he would notice, but not enough to actually hit him.

You pulled back the string and let go. And the arrow zoomed off-course and smacked him square on the forehead. You instantly ducked back behind the plant, hands over your mouth, struggling not to burst out laughing.

Zayne blinked. The water cup in his hand wobbled slightly, and for a second, you thought it might tip over. He reached up, peeled the arrow off with a confused look on his face, and stared at it like it had just dropped from another dimension. He was reading the note now, his jade eyes trailing along the lines. You saw his mouth twitch, the corners of his lips quirking up. Not a full smile — more like the idea of a smile. It was the kind of expression someone makes when they’re trying very hard not to react, and they’re mostly failing. And then — he exhaled through his nose and shook his head once, walking back to his office with the little note and the arrow in hand.

You crouched lower behind the plant. There was a stupid grin on your face and your body was tingling in a weirdly giddy way. You waited a few more minutes before standing up and walking in the opposite direction.

Day after day, arrow after arrow, you let your absurd plan unfold. Each time, his reactions thawed another layer of his carefully guarded composure. You continued, a few arrows here and there — his locker, the break room, once even mid-presentation at the weekly surgical review meeting. Each time, he reacted the same way: unreadable at first, then just the faintest sign of amusement that fanned the foolish little flame in your chest. You’d catch him pocketing the notes as if filing them away for future diagnosis.

Then came today.

It was midnight when you finally found a pocket of free time. The patient charts had been signed, your shift duties temporarily in check. That’s when you decided for another strike. You knew Zayne had a short gap between procedures, and his office light had been on earlier. You’d been watching the hallway casually from the small corner where supply cabinets broke the line of sight. His shadow had passed by the frosted window in his office door twice since. You figured he was standing, maybe reading something, or maybe pacing.

Your plan was simple: Aim for the center of Zayne’s office door. Not his head, not his arm, not any part of him directly — just the door. You’d seen the shadow inside. He’d be coming out soon. You just needed the arrow to land when he would exit, let him notice it and make him smile again.

You nocked an arrow, tongue poking out in concentration, aiming for the center of his door. So focused were you on your target, you didn’t notice the soft footfalls approaching from behind — until you felt a warm hand wrap around your waist and another slide over your hand on the bow — just firmly enough to freeze you in place. The contact startled you so hard you nearly dropped the bow.

Zayne was right behind you, half-embracing you, correcting your form as if this were a shooting range and not a hospital hallway. His gaze was fixed forward, his tone calm and maddeningly unaffected.

“Your stance is off,” he said, voice low, like he didn’t want it to echo. His breath ghosted across your cheek as he pulled your body back against his. “You’re pulling too much with your fingers, not your back.”

You felt him ease you back just a little, accurately aligning your posture. His chest brushed lightly against your back, his arm sliding along yours to adjust your hold on the bowstring. His fingers were warmer than expected, calloused from years of surgical work, but the touch was careful, like he didn’t want to startle you more than he already had.

He deliberately adjusted your elbow with his hand and pulled your upper arm slightly back so the arrow sat straighter. The door to the office opened just then. You felt him release your hand. The arrow launched and landed with a splat on the forehead of Greyson, your colleague, who had just emerged from Zayne’s office.

There was a brief pause, followed by a loud “What the hell?” from Greyson as he struggled to peel the arrow off.

You couldn’t even laugh, too mortified by the presence beside you to do so. The shadow in the office had been Greyson — not Zayne. You shrank into yourself immediately, lowering the bow, trying to form some apology, but your brain had turned into static. You felt him step away from you. You expected him to walk away, or worse — scold you with that same sharp tone he’d used back in his office after the surgery clamp incident. But instead, he reached for the bow in your hands and took it gently.

Then, to your complete confusion, he picked up one of the remaining arrows from your quiver, dug into his coat pocket, and pulled out a blue sticky note. He didn’t say anything. He just wrote something, rolled it carefully, and stuck it to the arrow. Then he stepped in front of you, lifted the bow, and with a slow, deliberate shot — fired it directly at you.

The arrow landed cleanly on your chest, just above your heart.

You plucked it off gently, fingers fumbling slightly as you unrolled the blue note.

“Ever wondered what kind of combination archery lessons and freshly brewed tea might make?”

You stared at the handwriting for a second longer than necessary. Your heart dropped to your stomach and rose again in the same breath. You looked up at him — your face no doubt a disaster of color and disbelief.

He met your eyes for the first time fully, without avoiding or glazing over. There was a subtle lightness in the way he stood now, something more relaxed than usual. He was smiling — really smiling now. That slow, knowing curve of the lips that you’d never seen aimed at anyone else. He looked like a man who had been aware all along and was finally, finally joining the game.

Your voice came out softer than you intended. “I’d… love to know more about that.”

His smile deepened. “Friday. After your shift.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you speechless in the hallway, an arrow in your hand and a rapidly accelerating heartbeat in your chest.

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