#so stretch it is ahaha

[inkz123]

@buttergriffin332 merry gyftmass ehehe🧡

[shannonsketches]

HELP

[angelpuns]

Something really neat about living on a farm with like 3-4 generations of a family is that you get hand me down bed frames. And they're uncomfortable and you always need a box spring, but they're SOLID WOOD. They're durable asf.

Anyway I've been suffering general body aches for the last two years cause of the condition of my bed/mattress among other things ( both hand me downs, durable but the MF box spring HURTS) and I also more recently had a footboard, which meant I couldn't have my fan at the end of the bed which means I'm fucking hot all the time. I eventually see a daybed at a local antique store. Immediately want. Its perfect, fits the vibe of my room, immaculate. FAN ACCESSIBLE WHICH IS SO IMPORTANT. Turns out my grandma has one that isn't 'probably haunted' and costs 0 dollars and maybe a couple of hours of labor. So 2-3 hours of taking beds apart, transporting, putting em back together, I have a daybed. Yay. Dream come true. And this shit is so comfortable. Its amazing. no box spring needed I sleep like a baby, for the most part. Mental issues aside.

Anyway TODAY IT FUCKING BROKE. BECAUSE ITS NOT WELL MADE AND I AM A FAT DUDE OK. Whatever no big deal put it back together and plan to get some plywood as some extra strength but ITS no big deal

Well it is now 4 am and considering I work the longest shifts this week I have worked in a while, the wood has become number one priority CAUSE THAT SHIT BROKE AGAIN WHEN I WAS LAYING ON IT. RAGHH.

Morale of the story and the tldr is this particular bed is shit and I should have bought the almost definitely haunted antique daybed :)

[dovveri]

upskill from student to parent

synopsis: one of your students has the most obvious crush on you, but you have the most obvious crush on his mother.

warnings: swearing? maybe idek AHAHA

w/c: 6.9k

a/n: kind of an homage to my fav person on this app @miinatozakiii ‘s first published work the kindergarten teacher sana 🙂‍↕️ happy late one year anniversary babe 🥰

⋆✐ೀ⋆

“alright kids, don't forget i'm seeing most of your parents tonight so if you want to make a good impression, you better start doing your homework because i know most of you don't!"

there are collective groans across the classroom as they pack up their things and leave, thanking you as they head out the door to their next period.

you giggle, recalling the days you were a student in their position, you rarely did your math homework as well.

"ms. l/n?"

you look up from your desk with a smile.

"i- um- i just wanted to s-say- thank you for this lesson. i was really- um- struggling with derivatives when you introduced them last time but you made it really clear this class."

you beam, appreciating the feedback, "that's great to hear hideki! if you have any more trouble in the future please be sure to let me know, i'll be happy to set up bonus small group classes or even individual sessions if you guys need the help."

"t-thanks ms. l/n. that's really nice of you."

"it's my job hideki." you smile, "did you need any help with anything else?"

he shakes his head shyly, hand at the back of his neck, "that was all! thanks again miss!"

"no worries, i'll see you tonight?"

he agrees happily, darting out the door with his cheeks flushed.

it wasn't the first time a student had had a crush on you. it was normally harmless. some of them had tried to confess to you over the years, usually waiting until after they graduated because they thought it’d be okay if you no longer had a student-teacher relationship. some of them would confess while you were still their teacher regardless, those were a little tougher because you had to continue teaching them and watch them pout and lose motivation to do their schoolwork and act awkward around you, no longer wanting to participate in class or ask questions if they didn’t understand something. you’d try to let them down gently, and if you noticed they were struggling with coursework, you’d pull them aside or ask another one of the teachers to check in on them.

most of the time though, they were just simple little crushes that would pass with time or after they moved out of your class. you didn't entertain them but it was cute seeing your students in their awkward teen years discovering feelings for the first time.

you stretch, yawning, but yelp when someone's finger jabs into your exposed armpit.

there's a burst of laughter and you frown, staring at the intruder.

"really nayeon?"

the english teacher rolls her eyes with a cheeky grin, "saw hideki on the way out. did he give you that confession note?"

"what confession note?"

nayeon hops a little, a hand covering her mouth, "oh shit."

you narrow your eyes. "tell me."

she grins, not really apologetic for having accidentally spilt her student’s secret, "saw him decorating a card and everything in english class today. his grammar was a little off so i just helped him correct it a little. oh ms. l/n. how i wish to be able to call you by your first name. how i wish to be able to hold you and-" she puts on an exaggerated romeo-like voice and pose, back of her hand coming up to her forehead.

you stand up, slapping her lightly with a blush, "why did you encourage him?!"

she shrugs with a laugh, "i'm an english teacher. gotta make sure the kids are using the language right even if it's for illicit love notes."

you huff, packing up your desk and getting ready to go to lunch, "can't he find a nice girl his age to be in love with? i'm sure he has so many options since he's the star player of the school basketball team and everything."

"something about you attracts the kiddies y/n."

you scrunch your nose, "ew. that sounds gross. i don't even like younger men."

"women?"

"no preference. just someone in the same life stage y'know?"

"wait should i be offended? how come no student has ever confessed to me? aren't english teachers supposed to be like a gay girl's awakening?"

you laugh, ignoring the woman's question, dragging her out of your classroom and to lunch together before you both have to attend to your kids again.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

you enjoyed your job, but parent-teacher interviews were probably your least favourite part of it. if you wanted to deal with parents all day you'd have become a primary school teacher.

there were all kinds of them, some who didn't show up, some who didn't care, some who cared too much, some who were clueless, and some who thought they could do your job better than you.

you rub your temples, grateful for the little 5 minute break you're afforded in between quick 10 minute interviews that would normally go on for longer than that. you blink around the room, the other mathematics teachers gathered in the same classroom, nayeon was down the hall with the other english teachers. you were the youngest of them all, there was a pretty big shortage of secondary mathematics teachers across the country, so it meant maths teachers were putting off retirement for longer so they can continue to support kids, but it still left a lot of gaps that could be filled to give your students the best education they deserved.

you've dazed off enough that you barely register hideki almost bounding in, still in his basketball uniform from after-school practice.

he grins, sliding into the seat opposite yours, "hi ms. l/n!"

you return the smile, "hey hideki." even though you knew about his obvious crush on you, he was still one of your favourite students, maybe it was because he had the crush on you that he was more eager to follow instructions and to prove himself and ask questions whenever he was confused that made him one of the easiest to teach.

and then a woman in a sleek beige coat next to hideki catches your attention. your gaze flicks over to hers. and it can't seem to break away.

she's the most beautiful human being you've ever laid your eyes on. her hair is dyed an autumn brown, wavy locks tucked behind ears, expensive gold jewelry adorning her neck, ears, hands. her eyes match the colour of her hair, a deep fawn brown you could stare into for hours. she's got the most perfect nose you've ever seen, you almost itched to measure it, find the angle of it, the way it led to her pretty lips, full and parted, inviting, pulling you in. and then you realise they're curling up slightly, and you snap your eyes back up to hers to see a mirthful glint in them.

you cough, blushing brightly, "h-hello mrs. hayashi."

"just sana is fine. minatozaki sana. i never married hideki’s father." her voice is silky smooth, there's a certain drawl to it too, it makes you want to listen to her voice on repeat, teasing out every inflection in tone.

you can feel your blush reaching the tips of your ears, "o-oh sorry! i didn't know i apologise!"

sana laughs, it's bright and airy, you don't think you've heard anything purer. "nothing to be sorry about. we broke up a long time ago. when hideki was still very young."

you nod, deciding you can't continue staring at her or you may just faint, so you look down at your files, shuffling them around with no purpose, just to give your hands something to do.

"so how's hideki doing in class?" you can hear the smirk in her voice, her attentive eyes watching as you fumble around.

"he's um- very good- he always makes sure to ask questions whenever he's stuck on anything, and he's probably one of my only students who keeps up with his homework."

"well that's good isn't it deki? what were you so nervous for?" sana teases her son as he blushes, mumbling something under his breath.

you speak up again, "nothing to be nervous about. hideki is one of my best students, he keeps up very well despite his extra curriculars."

sana snorts, "i wish we could say the same about his other subjects. it seems maths is the only thing he tries in."

"mom!"

"what? you heard what your english teacher said. you need to spend some more time editing your own work than you do shooting hoops."

you laugh, "i'm sure his english is alright. nayeon can be a pretty harsh teacher."

sana looks at you again with an eyebrow raised, you quickly look away. "just wait until you read some of his work ms. l/n. you'll be surprised."

hideki blushes again, deciding he won't be giving you that love confession note he has in his bag after all.

"is there anything else i can do for him then? any particular areas he may be struggling in or any recommendations of what we can implement at home to make sure his maths marks stay consistent?"

"homework really. maths is a very practical subject so the more practice he gets the better grasp he'll have. especially with strange or out-of-the-box questions exams may throw at him; it helps a lot if he's practiced with as many question varieties as possible, most people are going to get those 1 or 2 markers, but the bigger questions that really need you to apply the concepts you learn are where you'll start to see distinctions between the students that just study and the students that really have the aptitude and patience for mathematics."

"never was me." sana jokes.

you smile, still avoiding her gaze, your cheeks pink, "i'm sure you would have been a prize student ms. minatozaki."

"just sana." she has a teasing smile on her face.

"r-right. sana."

it's quiet for a few seconds, hideki looks between his mother and you, squinting a little in confusion.

sana coughs, beginning to stand and holding out a hand, "well it was nice meeting you ms. l/n. i can finally understand why hideki goes on and on about his gorgeous maths teacher."

"mom!"

you blush again, taking her hand, almost melting at how soft it felt against yours, forcing yourself to meet her eyes again to be polite. you have to bring your other hand to hold your wrist when you shake it, to support your jelly-like arm in her presence. "it was nice meeting you too sana."

she tightens her grip, smirking a little, "i hope this won't be the last i'll be seeing you. have a good night."

and with that she's off, hideki whining and complaining next to her about how she's embarassed him. it was a little funny considering their height difference, hideki was a basketball player so he had to be tall for his sport, and sana was just a few centimetres shorter than you, though her aura commanded attention, her posture was perfect, you're caught staring at the slight sway in her hips as she walks away, but you quickly reprimand yourself, blushing even brighter at having realised you were just checking out your student's parent.

god she had your mind a mess, and you had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time for this to happen.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

you were so out of your comfort zone. you barely knew anything about basketball. but nayeon just had to drag you to be co-supervisors for your school's basketball team since you didn’t have the funds for a real P.E. teacher. even worse, the parent volunteer just happened to be minatozaki sana, the parent you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since your first meeting with her weeks ago.

nayeon noticed your odd behaviour immediately of course. so being the annoyingly loveable best friend she was, she made herself scarce, herding the kids away with every opportunity and trying to get you and sana alone as much as possible.

that’s how you were now stuck with the woman of your dreams, sharing a hotel room in the place you were staying for the duration of the games.

“are you sure you don’t want me to get another room? the individual room was originally supposed to be meant for you- i can’t believe nayeon let herself get sick and stole it from you.”

sana giggles, plopping down her weekend bag. “it’s alright ms. l/n. i don’t mind sharing rooms with a pretty woman like you.”

you blushed brightly. that was the other problem with sana. she was a flirt. every chance she got she’d make some sort of teasing remark on the way here, or brush a little too close than what was acceptable for friends, and you were barely even friends.

“j-just y/n is fine. i feel weird if someone my age is calling me by my last name like that.”

“how do you know i’m your age?” she smirks.

“o-oh! i just- i mean- i- i’m in my early 30s and you look quite young and but hideki is already 16 so i just assumed um-“

she laughs again, “thank you for the compliment. you’re right. i had hideki when i was 19. his dad promised to take care of him, provide for us, y’know… all the works. he couldn’t take it and left not even a year into hideki’s life. i ended up having to drop out of university and learn to balance work and a baby. my parents weren't any good either, said it was my fault for getting knocked up so early in my life and that i should've been prepared for the consequences."

you perch on the end of your bed, listening attentively while she unpacks her things, "i'm sorry you had to go through that."

she shrugs, "made me who i am today. and plus i have hideki now. and he'll always have me. what about you? any kids? partner?"

you blush as she turns back to you, copying your stance and sitting on her bed facing you. "no. i’ve always been around kids so there’s not exactly a ton of romantic prospects.” you joke.

sana laughs, “what about nayeon?”

you cringe immediately, “ew gross no. we’re just friends. there aren’t that many young teachers that aren’t already married and who aren’t spread all over the country so nayeon and i easily clicked because we’re similar in age and single. not that it’s difficult to get along with the older teachers there’s just some things that we’ll be able to do that they might not necessarily want to anymore… like drink or whatever.”

“are you looking for anyone then?” there’s a smirk on sana’s face that you know can only mean she’s up to no good.

“u-um- well- i mean- uh- like if it comes it comes i’m not actively looking for it. i’m happy with the kids even if i die old and alone because there’s always going to be more kids to teach so i’m never really going to be alone unless i quit or get fired.”

“i really admire teachers y’know. you can take care of a classroom of kids and offer them knowledge when someone like my ex boyfriend couldn’t even handle one child.”

while you were talking, you didn’t even notice that sana had moved onto your bed, sitting next to you, shoulders touching, eyes peering into yours.

you chuckle awkwardly, “w-well i’m actually not that great with younger kids.”

sana frowns, “don’t do that. bringing yourself down to defend a shitty man are both things i don’t want to hear. from what i’ve seen, you love your job and you really care about your kids. you should be proud of that. teachers don’t get enough of the appreciation they should.”

“t-thank you sana.”

“of course.”

it’s quiet after that, and more than awkward. you have no idea where to look, suddenly conscious of her body pressed against yours, fiddling with your hands, feeling sweat build up.

sana just watches you with a glint in her eye, observing all of your actions.

she breaks the tension that seemingly came out of nowhere first, “how do you feel about me?”

your eyes widen, not expecting such a straightforward question, “s-sorry?”

“you’re nervous. do i make you nervous y/n?”

your blush was pretty much permanently fixed on your face now.

“u-um-“

“it’s okay if i do. i just hope it's for the right reasons." she pouts. it's criminal. "you'd tell me if there was something else right?"

"r-right! yes of course yes-"

"good. so you're nervous because you find me attractive?" her pout morphs into a smirk within nanoseconds.

"um- i-"

"you said you'd tell me if it was something else remember?" and then she's straight back into a pout. it was giving you whiplash, the change in expressions, dizzying you.

"um- i- yes- you are- yes you are very pretty and-"

"so you want to kiss me?"

"um-!"

sana finally lets you go, laughing brightly and moving away to give you some space before you burst or melted.

"just joking y/n. i'm sorry you're just too easy to tease and your reactions are adorable!"

you can breathe again, the oxygen finally reaching your brain now that sana wasn't so close to you, and your lips turn downward, imitating her pout from earlier, "sana!"

she continues laughing, going back to unpacking her things while you collect yourself and think just how you were going to survive the two days away sharing a room with the potential love of your life who also happened to be a massive tease.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

thankfully, the rest of the night was pretty uneventful. you checked in on all the boys, made sure they had all had dinner and weren't planning anything irresponsible like a party behind your backs or anything. you also checked in on nayeon who in your professional opinion, looked absolutely fine, having ordered room service and was in one of the hotel robes with her feet kicked up enjoying a face mask and a bottle of wine all to herself.

sana also didn't try anything else when you retired to your own hotel room after doing the rounds on the boys' rooms again to make sure they were all in bed and getting the rest they needed before their game tomorrow. you're not sure if you were grateful or disappointed she didn't, but you quickly pushed her out of your mind, needing to rest as well before having to wake up early to take all the kids to the stadium.

you're knocking loudly on the last room you were meant to check on, annoyed the boys were taking so long, you were all meant to meet in the lobby 10 minutes ago for your bus to the stadium.

when you sigh, prepared to rap your knuckles against the door again, it falls away, revealing a distressed hideki and his roommate for the trip.

"ms. l/n! i'm so sorry we're late eric had some trouble um-" he looks behind him, "we're pretty much ready now! just got to grab some last minute stuff and-" he leaves the door open, continuing his ramble while you cross your arms, tapping your foot impatiently, watching the boys run around the room collecting last minute things and throwing them into gym bags.

by the time they're almost done, sana's snuck up behind you, peeking over your shoulder.

"deki! what are you doing? are you the one holding everyone up? what kind of example are you setting for your team if the team captain's late?"

you jump at her voice, not having noticed her standing right behind you. you turn, admiring her side profile, she's got her hair up today, but still looks as expensive as the first time you saw her.

hideki blushes at his mom yelling at him, picking up his pace a little and jabbing eric, telling him to hurry up.

sana notices you staring at her and turns with a smile, "hi y/n. missed you this morning."

you fluster immediately, snapping your eyes away, "u-um sorry! i uh- got up early and didn't want to wake you and decided to get breakfast early on my own before making sure all the kids were awake."

she pouts, "you should've woken me. we could've had breakfast together."

"s-sorry i'll remember for next time."

"next time? you planning on waking up next to me again y/n?"

you can hear the teasing tone in her voice without needing to look at her, "i meant tomorrow! tomorrow morning."

sana giggles next to your ear, relenting when hideki and eric finally finish up, slightly out of breath when they come up to you, hideki apologising to you profusely, almost bowing down in the hotel hallway while holding all his heavy gym bags before you stop him, embarrassed enough by his mother watching the interaction closely with a curious glint in her eyes.

by the time you get downstairs nayeon already has most of the kids on the bus, reprimanding the two late boys again before letting them go and telling them to get on the bus as well. she had claimed her sickness was miraculously cured overnight, and that all she needed was a good night's sleep in a hotel room by herself.

she had teased both you and sana, asking sana innocently if she'd want to change rooms again now that she wasn't sick, but sana had said it'd be too much work and she didn't mind sharing a room with you anyway. nayeon elbowed you making an exaggerated show of her eyebrows wriggling around when sana wasn't looking, winking and looking all too satisfied with herself. you ignored her, strutting ahead and onto the bus, crossing your arms and pouting.

sana comes up next, giggling at you and plopping down on the seat next to yours. thankfully, the bus ride to the stadium wouldn't take long this time, the ride here was almost 5 hours long, and sana had taken a liking to sleeping on your shoulder almost the entire way there. you were stiff and couldn't wait to fall into bed when nayeon pulled her sick move and ruined your plans of being able to relax, not possible in the presence of the other woman.

the kids are rowdy and energetic, hyping each other up on the bus. you have to tell them to quieten down a few times but you let them get away with most of what they do, smiling at the sight of them so eager for their game.

when you arrive, nayeon's the first to stand, using her loud voice and commanding attention, her voice that should've been at least a little hoarse from her apparent sickness yesterday.

"alright! remember you're representing your school district now! and you're sharing this space with other people so i don't want to hear you guys as loud as you were on this bus okay? i won't hesitate to bench anyone who fools around too much and that means you won't get to play and you'd have come all this way for nothing understand?"

nayeon really was strict as a teacher, but you knew she loved her job as much as you did.

the kids nod, determined to be good, adrenaline running from the excitement of almost getting to the court.

you step off the bus first, talking to the bus driver and letting them know when they can come back and pick you guys up to go back to the hotel. then the kids are hopping off the bus one by one, and you're making sure they don't run off or do anything stupid while waiting for everyone to assemble.

by the time the team is actually on the court and warming up, you're almost as excited as them, the atmosphere of the stadium hyping you up, sitting on the sidelines with towels and water bottles ready for their breaks. you had tried to study up a little on what exactly went on in basketball, the rules and the basics, the kids may not have a coach but you still wanted to be as supportive as you could even though your job only required you to supervise them safely between the venues and the hotel.

"have you come to a lot of these games?" you ask sana mindlessly, watching as the boys start doing practice shots and drills.

"yeah. i try to go to as many of deki's things as i can."

"that's very sweet. it's really good for the kids, when the parents show up to things they work hard for."

sana hums. "i try."

"he's lucky to have you."

"i think he may appreciate you a little more though." she teases, bumping shoulders with you.

you laugh, "he'll get over it. they all do."

"this has happened before?"

you shrug, "i swear i don't do anything out of the ordinary. maybe i'm just nicer than nayeon."

"so your type obviously isn't kids. what is it?" sana teases.

you blush, "i don't know. i don't really have one i think."

"oh come on. everyone says that. tell me the truth. i won't judge i promise."

you roll your eyes, smiling, "well... i think at this point in my life i just want someone who wants to settle down. i'm not that young anymore and i've already achieved what i wanted in my career so all i really want now is someone to share the rest of my life with."

"boring! c'mon gimme the juicy stuff. like personality, physical attributes." she pokes you with a grin on her face as well.

"fine fine. i guess when it comes to women i tend to like slightly older women, extroverted, good with kids obviously, i don't reaaaally care for all the physical stuff but probably someone around my height i guess."

"stand up for me."

you do as she asks, confused, then she stands up as well, stepping in almost eye-to-eye. you flush immediately. she brings her hand to measure the top of her head, knocking it against your forehead.

then she smirks, "so i'm pretty much your type then?"

you stutter, falling backwards and back into your seat, mumbling incoherently. sana giggles, sitting back down as well.

"if it's any consolation, my type in women tends to be slightly taller, good with kids, a little awkward, gets flustered easily, but loves her job."

you blink at her, still processing her words when the buzzer sounds signaling the start of the game.

sana winks, then turns her attention to the game, cheering on your school's team as they get in starting position. nayeon jogs over to join you both on the sideline bench, cheering as well. you put your muddled thoughts aside to focus on being there for the kids, but sana's confession? was it even a confession? never left the back of your mind.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

your school won. the boys are ecstatic, clapping each other on the back, streamers are thrown, the crowd is wild, loving the game they witnessed.

eventually, the stadium clears out while the boys cooldown. the janitors come and kick everyone off the floor soon enough, the kids still whooping and parading around their championship trophy, taking pictures with smiles all around.

you smile fondly as well, watching them leave the stadium, so proud of themselves. but then there's a cough behind you, and you turn, surprised to see hideki still there, not leading his team off on their victory lap.

"you okay hideki?"

the boy blushes, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, still in his team uniform, sweat running down his body.

"i um- i was actually wondering if we could talk?"

you frown, immediately concerned, "yeah of course. what's up?"

his eyes flit around, making sure the stadium is pretty much empty except for the janitors cleaning up after the game. and then he looks back at you, you're struck then how much he looks like sana, he has her nose, her eyes, you never noticed before but after spending more time with sana, you can start to see parts of her in her son.

he clears his throat again, obviously nervous, wringing his hands out, "u-um- so i promised myself that if we won this game, i'd finally be truthful to both myself and you. so um- ms. l/n... i think i'm in love with you!" he bows deeply with his confession.

you stand there, slightly in shock despite knowing about his feelings for a long time now. and then you feel terrible, having to reject him on what was supposed to be one of the highlights of his high school experience.

you tap his shoulder lightly, non-verbally asking him to straighten up, he flinches at the touch, eyes fierce when they meet yours.

"hideki... i'm sorry. i don't feel the same way about you. you're my student, i care about all of you equally, but never as more than a student."

his face breaks your heart, you see sana in him, it's almost like you made sana cry.

"is it my age? what if i graduated? would you be interested in me after i graduated?" he's desperate, reaching for any possibility where you could return his feelings.

you shake your head, offering a gentle smile, "i'm sorry hideki. i know you'll find the right person for you one day though. that person just isn't going to be me."

his head droops down, hair coming to cover his eyes as he stares down at his shoes, trying to hide his tears. "i understand. thank you for taking the time to listen to me ms. l/n. i'll get out of your hair now." and then he's jogging off behind you towards the exit.

you sigh, turning around, surprised to see sana there, frowning when she sees hideki in tears approaching her.

she looks between him and you in confusion, but hideki reaches her first. she cups his face, asking him what happened, but he refuses to speak, and sana brings him down into her hugging him and patting his back.

she glances at you then, still frowning. your heart sinks, not sure what sorts of conclusions she could be drawing, but knowing right now, it looked like you had said or done something that made her son cry.

she leads him away, you ache to tell her what really happened, but you know you should keep your distance for the sake of your student right now, you just pray sana doesn't think of you any differently.

⋆✐ೀ⋆

the rest of the day goes by in a blur. the boys go out for celebratory dinner. they notice their captain is a lot more down than usual, and they try cheering him up, playing games at dinner, laughing and teasing each other, but nothing seems to be working.

you couldn't help but feel a little guilty, and sana hadn't spoken to you since the game. you're not sure if it's on purpose or if she's just busy keeping the kids entertained and checking on hideki every once in a while, but not wanting to smother him with all his friends around. he doesn't seem to mind though, in fact he only responds to sana, even when his friends try and include him he stays quiet, picking at his food aimlessly.

when you get back to the hotel, you give a speech about how they shouldn't sleep too late even though you could understand their excitement still remaining from winning the championships, they still had to get up early tomorrow so you could take the bus back home. nayeon would normally give the speech since she was a little more threatening than you, but she was also currently wasted, having gone a little too hard on the celebrations with the boys. she was currently leaning on you, almost dozing off as you rattled off instructions and rules before sending them all off to their rooms.

sana's gone with them before you can speak to her, so you sigh, wrapping an arm around nayeon's waist and helping your friend back to her own room, setting her in bed and pulling the covers up, turning off the lights and leaving a cup of water next to her bedside for when she wakes up later.

you feel nervous going back to your own room, unsure of what sana thinks of you now.

you open the door, almost grateful to hear the shower on, indicating the other woman was cleaning herself up.

you anxiously start packing your things up, cleaning around the room a little and grabbing clothes for your shower.

the shower turns off and your heart rate increases tenfold. you still have some time before she comes out though, so you continue to busy yourself, cleaning anything and everything.

"y/n?"

you turn quickly at her voice, almost fainting at the sight of her wrapped only in a towel. you yelp, turning back around just as quickly, "s-sorry!"

sana giggles, padding up to her bed, "it's okay. i left my clothes out here."

you can hear the rustle of her towel being dropped and her starting to dress yourself. your face is burning up, trying desperately to clear your mind of thoughts of a very naked sana standing right behind you, probably watching you make a fool out of yourself.

"i'm dressed." she teases, plopping down onto her bed.

you turn with a sigh, but tense up when you realise her definition of dressed was a very thin camisole and shorts that really shouldn't be considered shorts.

sana smirks at your gaze, crossing her legs and watching the way your eyes follow the movement, drinking in the skin.

"so what happened with you and deki?"

your eyes snap back up to hers at the reminder, the guilt of it all coming back.

"i'm sorry- i didn't- i hope you know i didn't mean to-"

sana giggles, grabbing the towel to start drying her hair, "relax y/n. i figured as much. he wouldn't tell me what happened but i assume it had something to do with his feelings for you?"

you gulp, nodding, not trusting your voice.

"like you said at the game, he'll get over it."

"you're not mad at me?"

she frowns, "why would i be mad at you?"

"well i- i thought you were avoiding me at dinner and- i mean i did just reject your son-"

sana lets out a loud laugh, "i think i'd be more mad if you didn't reject him. and i wasn't avoiding you. were you looking for my attention y/n?" she teases, wringing out her hair.

"oh. i'm glad then. that you weren't avoiding me. i was worried." you mumble, ignoring her question, knowing she was just trying to get a reaction out of you.

she stands up, brushing her hair behind her shoulders, walking up to you slowly. "why were you worried?"

you focus on a spot on the hotel carpet, avoiding her gaze, "i didn't want you to think i was- i don't know- i just didn't want you to think of me differently i guess."

"why do you care what i think of you?"

you blush, "well- i mean- i- you're- you're a parent of my student."

sana hums, still moving closer at a painfully slow pace, "is that all i am to you?"

"uh- well- no... you're um- you're sana."

she giggles, now toe-to-toe with you. "i am."

you almost let out a gasp when her cool fingers touch your chin, tilting your head up slightly to look her in the eyes. her eyes search yours, then they move over your face, tracing your features. you lick your lips unconsciously, the tension between the two of you unable to be explained by a simple parent-teacher relationship, or even a friendship anymore.

"it's funny." her voice is lower now, spoken right onto your lips, there was no need for volume, you were only inches apart. "i almost wonder if my ex would've fallen for you too."

you're dizzy from being so close to her, mind playing catch up. "t-too?"

"yeah. hideki fell for you. i wonder if you could just have my whole family wrapped around your finger."

you gulp, not really following, just letting her do whatever she wanted to you.

she leans in even closer, eyes dropping to your lips.

"what about me?"

"w-what about you?"

"you rejected deki. how about me?"

you inhale shakily, "are you confessing?"

she smiles then, "was it not obvious?"

"no." you breathe out.

"why not?"

"you're too- you're unbelievable."

"what does that mean?"

"i literally can't believe you're real. that someone as perfect as you could exist."

sana giggles lowly at that, "there it is. do you know how long i've been waiting for you to just say how you feel about me?"

"w-what?"

"all that teasing, all the flirting, i paid nayeon to fake sick y'know?"

"you what?!"

she throws her head back, laughing fully now. your eyes follow the lines of her throat.

"deki talked about you all the time at home. i was curious to meet the maths teacher he was so obsessed with. and then i did. and you were just so adorable. i could tell you really loved what you were doing, and you really cared for all the kids. but i didn't want to ask you out in front of my son who has the biggest most obvious crush on you. so i resigned myself to thinking i probably wouldn't be able to see you again. and then you happened to be on this trip. so i tried everything i could to get closer to you, get to know you better, and you didn't disappoint. i can safely say i'm just as obsessed with you as hideki is, dare i say even more."

"y-you are?"

"mhm. and i knew you liked me too. you're almost as obvious as deki is." she giggles, "i was just waiting for you to do something about it. but you're too nice aren't you? didn't want anything that could be between us to affect your job and your relationship with the kids."

you hadn't even noticed sana had paid so much attention to you. she had picked you apart completely, you felt so exposed in front of her now, but it wasn't unwelcome, you were just embarrassed at the way you've acted around her, thinking how many times you've replied dumbly or said something stupid while she knew you had a crush on her. you cringe at the memories.

sana laughs again, poking at the scrunch in your nose, "so can you say it officially now?"

"say what?"

"don't play dumb with me. you know."

you whine, blushing still, but close your eyes, taking a breath again, "i like you sana. i think you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen and your personality and actions are just as consistent with your looks."

sana giggles again, and then all of a sudden, her lips are pressed against yours.

it's soft, sweet, she's curling a hand around your waist and the other around your neck. you weren't the greatest with words, that's why nayeon was the english teacher, but you try make up for it with your actions, pulling her into you deeper and wrapping your arms around her, smiling into the kiss.

sana returns the smile, reattaching your lips, kissing you easily, your lips slotting together with no rush, taking as much time as you wanted to explore each other.

that night, when you come out of your shower, you find sana curled up in your bed, patting the empty space next to her for you to squeeze into, making sure she had enough space so that she wouldn't fall off the edge. you find that she's a big cuddler, not that it should've surprised you, she was always a very physically affectionate person, and you were still getting used to being on the receiving end of all of it, but you adored it.

the next morning, you'll keep to your promise and wake sana up with a gentle kiss on her lips, brushing her hair out of her face and studying her sleeping features carefully, committing everything to memory, still in slight disbelief that such a woman felt the same way you did.

you talk over breakfast, finding yourself much more at ease now that you knew she knew how you felt about her. she still takes every opportunity to tease you though, loving the way you blushed and stuttered around her.

what's hard is deciding what to do after you get home. you still wanted to keep your distance from hideki so that he could get over you, and sana agreed, saying it would be best if the both of you kept your relationship a secret for now. she was almost excited, talking about how it would be exciting and fun to sneak around like kids again, having to hide your relationship.

she's right of course, but being with her specifically probably makes it ten times harder than it normally would. she'd come to your school with bunches of flowers and lunch, acting innocent and surprised when you have to hide her and find an empty classroom for you to spend the lunch date she springs on you. she'll never stop loving to tease you.

you finally tell hideki about 2 months into your relationship. he seems to take it okay, but when you're curled up in sana's bed later, she tells you he complained to her about how she 'stole his woman', and you both end up in a giggling fit, laughing at the turn of events. regardless, you're still grateful, grateful you were able to meet her, and somehow bewitch her into falling for you. you were the luckiest person alive, and only sana would disagree, saying that was only true for herself.

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

malevolence

part II

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Bobby's!Niece!Reader

Summary: After finding out Dean is possessed by a demon, Bobby has sent you away to one of his cabins. One you didn't even know existed. One that's supposed to be safe.

Warnings: 18+!, language, violence, manipulation, gaslighting, corruption, pining, smut (kissing, spitting, marking, fingering, oral/cunnilingus, p in v, implied breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk, mildly dubious consent, cum-play), I may have missed some.

Word Count: 4,886

A/N: Ahhhhh. Need him in a way that's dangerous to my insides. God, I'm so gross. Anyways, I hope y'all like this as much as I liked imagining it ahaha. <3 Again... these gifs. Ugh. The is part two, so... part three will probably be up later (depending on how high my motivation levels stay) but failing that, definitely tomorrow. I'm gonna state now, for the record, that I have literally been typing so fast today (my best is 90wpm, but it's been like 97wpm today... don't know why, and I am not complaining) so I imagine I'm probably gonna post a few more things today/tonight. All the love.

You didn’t talk much on the drive.

Rufus had filled the silence just fine on his own—grumbling about Bobby, cursing the road, complaining about how “the old bastard always pulled shit like this,” like building a secret cabin deep in the woods was a personal betrayal. You’d nodded a few times, given the occasional hum, but your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Still back at the house. Still pressed to the counter. Still trembling under hands that hadn’t belonged to Dean, even if they’d felt like him.

That was the part that made you sick.

That it hadn’t felt wrong. Not then. Not until later. Not until the holy water. The hiss. The look in Bobby’s eyes when he said the words out loud.

That thing ain’t Dean.

You’d clutched your bottle of water tighter and nodded along as Rufus cursed at the trees.

This cabin wasn’t like the others. You’d been to all of Bobby’s usual places over the years—run-down hunter shacks tucked off forgotten dirt roads, where the walls smelled like smoke and the furniture creaked if you breathed wrong.

But this place… this place felt like it didn’t want to be found.

The drive to it had been nothing more than an overgrown trail, barely wide enough for the truck, weaving through the trees like it had no destination. It hadn’t even looked like a road. Just forest and shadows and the steady hum of wheels over roots.

And then, without warning, the woods had opened their mouth and spit it out.

The cabin was small, sun-bleached, older than it looked. Tucked into the edge of a lake like it had been forgotten there, hidden away from the rest of the world. The water stretched out endlessly behind it, framed by trees so dense they swallowed the horizon. The kind of place that didn’t exist on maps. That didn’t want to be remembered.

Rufus had carried the groceries inside. He hadn’t asked if you were okay.

He hadn’t needed to.

He left with a muttered warning—“Don’t open the door unless it’s me or Bobby”—and then he was gone.

Now it was just you.

You sat on the old couch, knees pulled to your chest, Bobby’s shirt still wrapped around your shoulders. It didn’t feel as safe as it used to. It smelled like the kitchen. Like last night.

Like him.

The silence was thick. Heavier than you expected. There were no hums of traffic. No creak of floorboards overhead. Just the faint groan of the old wood settling and the occasional hush of wind through the trees.

You hadn’t even known this place existed. Bobby had never brought you here. Not once. And that meant something. That meant he was scared.

You reached for your phone, screen glowing too bright in the dim cabin light. One bar. Maybe two.

It’d have to be enough. You hit call and held it to your ear. The dial tone echoed through the room like it didn’t belong there. Like nothing here did. Like you didn’t.

You didn’t know what you were going to say. Only that you needed to hear his voice. Only that you needed someone to tell you it was going to be okay—even if it wasn’t.

The first ring had barely finished before he answered.

“You okay?”

No hello. No soft landing. Just Bobby’s voice, all gravel and bark, tight around the edges like he hadn’t unclenched his jaw since you left.

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “I’m okay.”

From the other end of the line, you could hear another voice. Faint, indistinct, but familiar. That rhythm, that tone. You knew it.

“Rufus got me here fine,” you added, curling further into yourself on the couch. “Helped me carry the groceries in. Told me not to answer the door unless it’s him or you.”

Bobby didn’t answer right away. You heard the soft creak of wood, the shift of weight. He was moving—probably pacing, probably pinching the bridge of his nose, probably working through ten things he didn’t know how to say.

You hesitated. “Is that Sam I hear?”

“Yeah,” Bobby muttered, like he didn’t love confirming it. “Boy showed up a few hours ago. We’re tryin’ to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on with Dean.”

You pressed your thumb to the seam of the flannel wrapped around your shoulders and stayed quiet.

In the background, Sam’s voice floated through the phone, clearer this time. “Can I talk to her?”

A beat. Some rustling. Then Bobby’s voice again, closer.

“You up for that?”

You nodded before realising he couldn’t see it. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

There was the muffled scrape of the phone changing hands, and then Sam’s voice—softer, lower, with that same cautious care he’d always had when you were younger and crying in the backseat of Bobby’s car after a nightmare.

“Hey.”

Your chest ached. You hadn’t realised how much you needed to hear that voice.

“Hey,” you whispered back.

“What happened?” He asked gently. “With Dean.”

Your breath hitched. For a second, you almost didn’t answer.

“He… he was flirting with me. Like, really flirting. Touching me like he thought he had some kind of claim.” You paused. “It wasn’t like him. Not really.”

You didn’t say more. You didn’t have to.

Sam let out a long, rough sigh. You could almost picture him rubbing a hand down his face.

“Dammit. He—he made a deal,” he said. “After Dad died. I didn’t know at the time. He didn’t tell me. I guess we’re still trying to figure out the details, but… yeah. It tracks.”

You closed your eyes. Let your head tip back against the couch cushion. Something settled cold in your chest. More shuffling, more rustling, and then Bobby’s voice returned, cutting through the static like a knife.

“Alright, listen to me. You stay put, you hear? You don’t go outside. You don’t open that door unless it’s me or Rufus. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”

You let the silence stretch a little too long.

“Why didn’t I know about this place?” You asked. “This cabin. I’ve been to all the others. Why keep this one secret?”

You could hear the scoff in his throat before he said it.

“You don’t need to know all my damn business, girl. But this?” He paused. “This is exactly why I got places like that. Tucked away, quiet. In case the world decides to go sideways.”

It already had.

Bobby exhaled into the receiver, and something about the sound made your throat go tight.

“Be safe,” he said, and it landed more like a plea than a command.

“I love you,” you said, barely above a breath.

There was a pause. Then:

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “You too, kid.”

The line clicked dead. And just like that, you were alone again. The silence swelled. The wind moved through the trees like a warning. The lake held its breath. And you sat in the quiet, trying to remember which part of you had wanted him to kiss you back.

You must’ve dozed off somewhere around the second shootout.

The Western on Bobby’s old VHS copy had long since fuzzed into that flickering loop of gunfire and tumbleweeds, the dialogue dipping in and out like the tape was gasping for breath. The couch underneath you was stiff and uneven, the cushions worn thin from age, but you hadn’t meant to fall asleep there. You’d meant to just… rest your eyes.

The creak that woke you was sharp and sudden.

You blinked, sitting up fast, breath catching as you looked around the dim room. The air was cooler now, the lake wind whistling faint through the old cabin walls. The only light came from the television—flickers of orange and white against the far wall as some nameless cowboy fired off another round into the dust.

You exhaled slowly.

It was just the wind. Just the old wood groaning under its own weight.

You stretched, arms lifting above your head as you yawned. Your body ached. Your mouth was dry. You rubbed your eyes with the heel of your hand and glanced toward the dark hallway leading to the bedroom.

Time to sleep somewhere that didn’t smell like mildew and motor oil.

You pushed yourself up from the couch. And then—

Knock knock knock.

You froze. Your heart lurched in your chest, sharp and immediate.

What the hell—

Your head turned toward the front door, still half-shrouded in shadow, the porch light outside long dead. The knock hadn’t been frantic. It hadn’t been loud. It had been gentle.

You took a step back without meaning to, bare heel brushing the edge of the rug. Bobby hadn’t called. Rufus hadn’t either. No one should be here.

Knock knock.

Again. Softer. Closer. And then—

“Sweetheart.”

Your stomach dropped.

The voice was low. Familiar. Soothing in the way only his ever had been. That gentle hush he used when you were little and bleeding from a scraped knee, shaking too hard to hold still while he cleaned the cut. The same tone he’d used when he’d called you over to sit on the hood of the Impala while the sun set, a bottle of Coke in one hand, his flannel hanging open.

Like that voice still lived in your bones.

“C’mon, open up,” he said. “S’just me.”

Your breath caught.

You took a step forward. Tiny. Barely there. The kind of step you could pretend hadn’t happened if someone asked.

His voice came through the door like a ghost.

“I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you.”

Another step. Your fingers curled at your sides.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, baby. You know that, right? I just… I needed to see you. Needed to talk.”

The TV flickered behind you—gunfire, dust, a man dying in the dirt. You barely noticed it.

Dean’s voice was all you could hear.

“You left so fast. Thought maybe you were scared of me or somethin’.” A pause. A low, breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Ain’t nothing to be scared of. You know me.”

You shook your head—but it was slow, weak, like your body didn’t fully believe it.

You did know him. You knew the curve of that voice. The rhythm of those words. But something behind them was wrong. You took another step anyway.

“Open the door for me, sweetheart,” he murmured, soft as sin. “Let me see you.”

You were at the edge of the rug now. One more step and you’d be on the old wood floor. Another after that and your fingers would be at the lock. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs. You knew it wasn’t him. You knew. But God, he sounded so much like home.

“C’mon, sweetheart… please.”

It wasn’t the word that undid you—it was how he said it.

Like he meant it. Like he was standing on the other side of that old wood with his shoulders slumped and his head low, like the world had been too cruel to him and you were the only thing that ever made it better. Like he was yours.

Your throat worked around a breath.

“Dean?”

It slipped out before you could stop it. A whisper. A prayer. And then—God—you heard it.

That smirk. Not loud. Not sharp. Just a bend in the syllables, a smile shaping the air between you. Like he knew you’d say it. Like he’d been waiting for it.

“Yeah,” he said, low and warm. “It’s me, sweetheart.”

Your hand lifted slightly. Your fingers brushed the edge of the doorknob.

“I need to see you. I’ve been lookin’ everywhere. You just… vanished.” His voice dropped, like it hurt to say it. “Thought I lost you.”

Your breath hitched. You stared at the door like it might open on its own.

“I... I can’t,” you said. It came out soft, shaking. “Bobby said not to let anyone in.”

“He was wrong,” Dean said immediately. “That wasn’t me, not really. The demon—it’s gone. It left.”

You froze.

“That’s not possible,” you whispered. “They don’t just leave. Not unless—”

“I’m hurt,” he said quickly. “Real bad. Demon can’t stay in a busted vessel. You know that. C’mon, sweetheart, think.”

Your mind was spinning. The words made sense, sort of—but they didn’t feel right. Still, he sounded like Dean. He sounded like the man who used to carry you on his shoulders, who used to patch up your scrapes and call you kid and ruffle your hair and smirk like nothing could ever touch him.

“I don’t—” You swallowed. “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” His voice dropped into something soft, velvet-slick and breaking. “You know me. You know me. I’ve known you since you were a little thing, running around Bobby’s yard with dirt on your cheeks and that oversized t-shirt draggin’ past your knees. You think I don’t remember that?”

Your breath caught. Your feet inched forward.

“You always climbed into my lap when you got scared during storms. You’d knock on my door at two in the morning just ‘cause you couldn’t sleep. Used to tuck your cold feet under me on the couch like I was your personal furnace.” He let out a small, breathy chuckle. “Used to drive me crazy.”

Your fingers curled around the lock.

“I never stopped thinkin’ about you, y’know that?” His voice was quieter now. Closer. Like his mouth was just against the wood. “When I was on the road. When things got hard. I kept seeing your face.”

You pressed your forehead to the door. Eyes closed.

“Please, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Open the door. Just let me see you.”

Your hand tightened on the lock.

“I missed you.”

The words landed like a punch to the ribs.

“I miss you,” he repeated, gentler now. Like confession. Like sin wrapped in satin.

Your thumb hovered over the latch. The lock clicked open with a sound that felt too loud in the silence. Your hand fell away like it didn’t belong to you anymore, your body moving without permission, chest tight and limbs heavy as the door creaked open to reveal him.

Dean.

Leaning against the doorframe, bruised and dusted with blood, eyes catching the moonlight in that soft, impossibly familiar way. Hair mussed. Jeans low on his hips. Flannel half-unbuttoned and clinging to a sweat-slick chest.

He looked like he’d crawled out of a nightmare just to find you.

And he smiled.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. And then—he was on you. Strong hands grabbed the backs of your thighs, palms squeezing hard enough to bruise as he lifted you like you weighed nothing, slammed the door shut with his boot, and pressed you back against it—hard.

Your breath punched out of you on impact.

He shoved his hips forward, grinding into you through his jeans, his chest flush against yours, mouth dragging along your throat before you could even make a sound.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he rasped against your skin, voice pure velvet and filth. “I knew you’d let me in. You've always been a good girl.”

His tongue licked up your neck, slow and hungry, like he could taste the guilt trembling beneath your skin.

“That’s it,” he whispered, hips grinding harder as you whimpered. “You missed me, didn’t you? All alone up here, touchin’ yourself thinking about me.”

You shuddered.

“You… you lied to me,” you breathed, fingers curling into his shirt like you couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or shove him away.

He groaned low in your ear, like the accusation turned him on.

“Yeah,” he said, no apology in it. Just smug, satisfied heat. “Sure did.”

His mouth was on your throat again, teeth grazing, lips dragging open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck as his fingers dug harder into your thighs.

“But you opened that door anyway,” he murmured. “Didn’t you?”

You gasped.

“You’re not—” Your voice broke. “You’re not Dean.”

He pulled back. Just an inch. Just far enough to look at you.

The expression on his face made your blood run cold—mock-hurt, mock-surprised, like he was wounded that you’d even suggest it. His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing, lips curling into that crooked, devastating smirk.

“Ouch, baby.” He said, soft as sin.

You stared at him, searching his face for the man you used to know—the man who used to call you kid and ruffle your hair and carry you on his shoulders.

But the man in front of you? He looked the same. He felt the same.

And still, he wasn’t.

He leaned in again, lips brushing yours.

“You think I'd let a demon wear me like a goddamn suit, sweetheart?” His voice dipped darker. “I made a deal.”

His grip on your thighs tightened, grinding his cock up into the heat of you through thin cotton as you gasped.

“I’m still me,” he whispered against your lips, breath warm and full of smoke. “Just... better.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” You whispered, breath catching in your throat as his hands gripped tighter, his hips still rolling slow and devastating between your thighs.

His mouth brushed your jaw, breath warm as sin.

“Why I did it doesn’t matter,” he said, like the answer wasn’t worth your time. “All you need to know is I don’t have that pesky guilt in the way anymore. Nothin’ holding me back.”

He thrust forward just right—hard enough to grind against that perfect spot between your legs, and a sharp little whine slipped out of you before you could stop it. God, you hated that sound. Because it was real. It was need. You hated yourself for it.

“You’re a goddamn fool,” you spat, but your voice was thin. Weak. Your body wasn’t moving away—it was pressing in, arching, wanting.

He laughed—low and delighted, like the sound had been waiting in his throat since you opened the door.

“Yeah?” He murmured, lips brushing your cheek as he nipped at your skin, gentle but stinging. “Well, maybe I’m a fool for you.”

His fingers dragged up the back of your thighs, under the flannel and over the hem of Bobby’s old shirt, bunching it at your hips.

“You think I didn’t see this coming?” He whispered, breath thick and warm in your ear. “You think I didn’t know what I was doing? Leavin’ little touches here and there, letting you catch me looking?” His hand slid between your legs, cupping you through your panties, palm heavy and hot. “You were always gonna be mine. All I had to do was wait.”

You gasped, hands curling into his shirt, your knees trembling where they locked around his hips. You wanted to push him away. You wanted to scream. But instead, your head tipped back as he ground into you again, your breath hitching on a moan.

“You wanted this too,” he rasped. “Didn’t you?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because your body already had.

“You know what the best part is?” He breathed, rocking his hips into you slow, dragging against the soaked cotton between your legs. “You don’t even know how fucked you are.”

You shivered.

“Bobby tried to keep you out of all this,” he said, tone thick with mock-affection. “Kept you tucked away in his little salvage yard like some precious thing. Thought he could keep the world off you. Thought he could keep me off you.”

His hand slipped beneath your panties. Two fingers dragging through your slick like he already knew what he’d find.

“Guess he was wrong.”

You whimpered. He groaned, forehead dropping to yours, mouth open against your lips.

“You’re soaked for me,” he whispered, his voice wrecked and reverent. “Fuck. You were made for this.”

His forehead pressed to yours, lips brushing close, breath warm and uneven as his fingers dragged slow and steady between your thighs, slick and unholy. Your pulse fluttered in your throat, shallow and fast, like something caged.

“Tell me,” he whispered, the words grazing your mouth. “You wanna finish what we started last night in the kitchen?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

You should say no. You know you should. Bobby’s voice still echoed in your head. All his warnings. All his rules. But all you could do was stare into Dean’s eyes—those wild, dark eyes burning with something you couldn’t name. Something ancient and wrecked and his. And he was looking back at you like you were already his prize. Like he’d already won.

He slid his fingers deeper—still teasing, still slow. Your hips jumped against his hand.

He chuckled against your lips. “You always were too fuckin’ cute for your own good.”

You whimpered. God. You hated yourself for it.

His mouth curled, cruel and soft at once.

“I’m only gonna ask one more time,” he murmured, voice low and sweet and merciless. “And then I decide for you.”

You swallowed hard. Tried to form a word. Tried to say no, even if you didn’t mean it. But all that came out was a soft, desperate sound—broken and breathless.

Dean smiled like a wolf.

“Good enough,” he whispered, and then he bit your bottom lip—hard enough to sting, soft enough to make you moan—and slid his fingers deep, curling them just right.

Your head slammed back against the door with a gasp.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” he murmured, mouth dragging along your jaw. “That’s my girl. Fuck, you’re tight. You were made for me.”

You whimpered again, breath hitching, thighs twitching around his wrist.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Comin’ apart already. You like this, huh? Like being pinned up like some sweet little trophy, legs spread, crying on my fingers while you pretend it ain’t what you wanted.”

You shook your head weakly, but it was already too late. Your hips were rocking down into his hand, chasing every thrust, every curl, every filthy word like they were gospel.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he crooned. “Taking me so good, sweetheart. Fucking perfect.”

Your body was shaking, breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The pleasure was white-hot, crawling up your spine like fire. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, eyes wide with helpless need.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Let go. Wanna feel you fall apart for me. C’mon, sweetheart. Gimme everything.”

And then you did.

You came with a choked cry, body spasming against the door, thighs clamping down around his wrist as he fucked you through it—low groans and breathy praise spilling hot against your throat.

“Just like that. Fuck, that’s it. That’s my good girl. So fuckin’ pretty when you come.”

You were still panting, still reeling, when he eased his fingers free and caught you as your knees buckled.

He sank to the floor with you—dragged you with him—and pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling his hips, the old flannel riding up high on your thighs.

His hands smoothed up your sides, slow and greedy, like he needed to memorise the shape of you. And then he pulled you down, mouth crashing into yours. Hot. Hungry. Possessive. You kissed him back like it might save you.

And maybe it already ruined you.

You kissed him like you were drowning. Hands gripping his shirt, thighs locked around his waist, breath hot and shaking as you let him drag you down against his lap like it meant something. Like this was still the boy who used to drive you to the gas station for slushies and let you win at poker even when you cheated. Like this was still Dean.

But then the heat started to fade. Then the weight of what you were doing settled sharp in your chest. You pulled back. Just an inch. Just enough to breathe.

“I can’t,” you whispered, voice raw. “Dean, I—I shouldn’t…”

His eyes snapped open, green and molten, his hands still gripping your hips. And then he smiled. Soft. Sweet. Deadly.

“Shhh,” he whispered, smoothing a hand up your back. “You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You froze.

He leaned in, mouth brushing your cheek.

“You know that, don’t you? I’ve always wanted to protect you. Always wanted to keep you safe.”

His hand slid between your legs, fingers curling around the edge of your panties, pulling them aside so slowly it felt like sin.

“You don’t need anyone else,” he murmured. “Just me. Only me.”

Your breath hitched.

His cock was hard against your thigh, already freed from his jeans, thick and heavy and hot where it pressed against you. You should’ve moved. Should’ve run. But his hands were on your hips again, guiding you, lining you up like he’d done it a hundred times in his head.

And maybe he had.

“I only need you,” he whispered, like a prayer. “Been needin’ you for years.”

You whimpered—low and helpless—as he dragged your hips down, just enough to let the head of his cock catch at your entrance, slick and throbbing.

“Dean—” Your voice cracked.

“I know,” he said, eyes on yours. “You’re scared. But you don’t have to be. You’re safe with me.”

And then he pressed up into you.

You gasped—choked—as he sank in slow and steady, stretching you wide, pulling you open inch by inch while his hands gripped your thighs, holding you there like you were something holy.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, head tipping back. “You feel… fuck, you feel like heaven.”

His eyes flickered. Just for a second. Black. Sharp and bottomless. And then green again—bright, burning, feral.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, hips thrusting up hard, dragging a broken sound from your lips. “You were made for this.”

You shook your head weakly, but your hips rocked into his anyway, body moving on instinct.

He grinned—mean and hungry.

“Yeah. That’s it. That’s my girl.”

His grip on your thighs tightened, pulling you down harder as he fucked up into you, thick and deep and filthy, his voice a constant hum against your skin.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he said, panting, his brow furrowed in that same reverent way he used to look at you when you curled up next to him during old Westerns. “You’re mine now.”

You whimpered, hands clinging to his shoulders like they were the only thing holding you together.

“Might as well stop fighting it, sweetheart,” he growled, thrusts getting rougher, sloppier, meaner. “You don’t wanna fight it. You never did.”

He was right. God help you—he was right.

You didn’t even have time to scream. One second you were in his lap, his cock still buried deep, your body trembling from the stretch of him—

And the next? You were on your back, flat against the cabin floor. Hard. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs. You gasped—but nothing came. Your mouth opened wide, your chest convulsed, and still—no air.

You stared up at him in stunned panic, lips parted, eyes wide, lungs heaving like they’d forgotten how to work. And Dean—Dean—just grinned down at you, all wicked teeth and devilish delight, his chest rising and falling above you.

“Well shit,” he chuckled, his voice smug and low and wrong. “Knocked the wind right outta you, huh?”

Your fingers clawed at the floor, body twisting underneath him, but he only pressed in harder, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your thigh and pulling it higher, opening you wide.

“Look at you,” he murmured, and then he thrust—deep and brutal, knocking what little breath you’d managed to drag in right back out.

“Clenching up on me so damn tight,” he growled, eyes flicking black, staying black. “Can’t even breathe, and you’re still squeezin’ me like you never wanna let go.”

You whimpered—half from fear, half from pleasure, all of it ruined.

He laughed again, meaner this time, low in his throat like it thrilled him.

“You scared?” He asked, panting as he fucked into you harder now, hips snapping into you with sharp, feral thrusts. “That little panic making you feel even tighter?”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely even think. Your whole body burned. Every nerve raw. Your vision blurred around the edges.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as he pounded into you. “Like heaven. Like fuckin’ home.”

Tears prickled in your eyes. It was too much. All of it. And then—his voice dropped to a whisper, wrecked and reverent and evil.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna fall apart with my cock inside you?”

You shattered.

Your body arched off the floor, your mouth fell open in a silent cry, and your cunt clenched around him so hard he snarled, fingers bruising your hips as he held you down, fucked you through it, let you ride the edge until your vision went white.

“There she is,” he growled. “That’s my girl. Pretty little thing, takin’ my cock like it’s the only thing she’s ever needed.”

You couldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t stop shaking. And still—he didn’t stop.

“Cry all you want,” he breathed against your cheek. “I'm not done.”

He didn’t slow down. Even after your body stopped convulsing, even after your voice had gone hoarse from the sobs caught in your throat—he didn’t stop. He moved like a man starved, like a beast let loose, like he was trying to bury himself inside you so deep no one else would ever find you there.

And then—he bit you.

Right at the curve of your neck, where your pulse fluttered wild beneath the skin. His teeth sank in, deep and deliberate, until you cried out again—not from pleasure this time, but pain. Sharp. Real. Tearing.

You felt the sting of it, the warmth of blood welling up against your skin.

His tongue followed. Slow. Lapping.

“Told you,” he muttered, voice thick, forehead pressed to yours as his cock throbbed inside you. “You’re mine.”

Another thrust. Brutal. Final. And then he groaned, loud and guttural, as he came deep—hot and heavy, spilling into you like a curse.

You gasped, body twitching beneath him, mind blank with overstimulation and the weight of him still pressing down.

He didn’t pull out. Didn’t move. Just stayed there, buried to the hilt, his breath ragged against your throat.

“You’re never goin’ back,” he whispered, mouth still wet with blood. “Bobby ain’t getting you. Sammy can fuck off. The whole goddamn world can burn for all I care.”

His fingers stroked your cheek, too gentle for the wreckage he’d left behind.

“You’re mine.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You just laid there—broken and full, neck slick with blood, thighs sticky and trembling—while the wind whispered against the cabin walls and the lake sighed in the distance like it already knew what you’d done.

And somewhere, deep down—past the ache and the guilt and the shame—you didn’t feel scared anymore.

You felt claimed.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids @sacr1ficialang3l @jesstherebel <3

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞! | genshin males x gn!reader

「 "𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫!"」

— in which you give him chocolates before he attempts to give you his??

— fluff. highschool!au but built like a shoujo manga lmao ... happy valentine's day ~ ♡ another fic will be going out tomorrow :)

THOMA, albedo, ayato, alhaitham, childe, KAVEH, HEIZOU, VENTI, GAMING, CHONGYUN, KAZUHA, wriothesley, tighnari, freminet, lyney ♡

Calling yourself a "romantic" person would be quite a stretch.

Saying Valentine's was your favorite day of the year would be even worse.

Sure, sure, you'd heard plenty of things, from the nagging old man manning the grocery store, always red in the face from regular swigs of cheap liquor, or the seemingly never endless musings from your classmates, swooning and fainting every moment anyone, or more specifically, the leads starring in those dramas of theirs, did anything remotely affectionate.

Young, innocent love, while a splendid thing, for someone like you, your really only option was to endlessly pine after someone who would certainly not return your affections.

The recipient of such foolish affections? That much was obvious. What a rather hopeless person, you were.

At the very least, he seemed to enjoy your presence. A smile would adorn his lips, and he'd always meet your gaze with his familiar greeting of, "Good morning, did you sleep well?"

Fuck, you hated how such a simple line, questioning of your wellbeing, could tug at your heartstrings so effortlessly. The man was playing you like a fiddle, and a part of you didn't try to resist that.

So the moment February 14th rolled itself around, bearing promises of youthful laughter, baby cupids, hearts, and sweets, you tried not to pay heed to the extra weight of chocolates in your school bag.

Had you stayed up late making them just the right sweetness, making sure they were perfectly heart-shaped?

Yes. As stated previously, you were truly hopeless.

"Ah, good morning." Wow, look at you, taking the initiative to greet someone? Truly, a day of magic and wonder! You're almost jump scared at the sight of him in your classroom, just what the fuck was he doing here? He leaned against the doorway, looking terribly pretty in the morning lighting.

This was not doing wonders to your heart.

Upon seeing you, he straightened his posture, looking suspiciously sheepish with an extra non-characteristic, flusteredness on his features. "You're here early today."

"It's Valentine's." That's all you managed to sputter out with that tied tongue of yours.

"Yes, and?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly, not entirely convinced, and followed you to your seat like some sort of lost puppy.

Your brain raced to find a rationale he'd deem reasonable. "Uhm, ah... my friend... is planning to confess to a guy, so I had to come early and help her... set up the place she's planning to do so at?"

"I see... ah," His eyes lit up like he had thought of something. "Are you free after school? We should meet up afterward, so you can tell me how it went...?"

"Yes!" You responded a little too quickly, and cussing yourself out in you head, you corrected it. "Ahem- yes, I'd like that." The burning feeling that arose on your face was starting to become too prominent to ignore.

He didn't seem to pay it any mind, and instead beamed in a close-eyed smile. "Perfect. Then, I'll see you?" You were to bid him goodbye, but he ran off before you could even utter a sound, leaving you rather dumbfounded, blank-faced and still feeling the tingling warmth on your cheeks.

Holy shit, is this my chance?? You’d made chocolates on the eensiest, weensiest off chance that you might grow bold enough to hand it to him, even if under the pretense of “as friends”, but with the violent way your heart was pounding in your chest, you didn’t think avoidance would be an option.

Ahaha, you were making a mistake, weren’t you?

Only one way to find out.

The rest of the day went by as predicted. Fanatic screams and a wave of crazed people chasing after the more popular figures of the school, throwing boxes of chocolates and bouquets of roses... hey, wasn't this a safety hazard? There were other screams too - but not of excitement, but terror as a man was crushed and trampled under a wave of love-sick girls chasing after the popular boy in class 2-A.

You just hoped that he wouldn't sue the school. The place was already cutting enough corners when it came to the monstrosity of cafeteria food.

The bell rang, signaling your freedom, and you massaged your shoulders with a sigh. You'd survived, somehow. As you stepped out the door, a ding from your phone alerted you with a text, and as you lit up the screen, the corner of your lips unconsciously turned upwards into a soft smile.

hot guy <3 - don't forget.

hot guy <3 - ill be waiting for you

Stepping into his classroom, you scanned your surroundings for the familiar sight of the man. Low and behold, there he was, sat upon, presumably, his desk, and staring out the window like some main character. You walked over, trying your best to disregard the clamminess of your fingers - or more specifically, the hand that was holding your homemade chocolates hidden safely(?) away behind your back. His features brightened at the sight of you, and he swung his legs, ushering you over to share the view with him.

"Sorry, did you wait long?" You sheepishly grinned as he scooted to the side to give you space to sit down next to him. As you did so, you were made painfully aware of how his body was still pressed up against yours. “I almost got trampled on my way here, not a pretty sight.”

“...Pretty sight?” He echoed his words, tilting his head as he pondered, the slightest curve of a smile tugging at his lips. “You?”

“W-What? No, I-” You cleared your throat before he could say another word, trying to dispel the blush on your features. Naturally, you failed to do so. “What kind of things are you saying now? Just who’d you learn that from?”

“Haa? What do you mean, learned? I just said the truth, that’s all…”

God, he was so adorable. This man had definitely run off with your heart.

Now or never, you supposed. Standing upwards abruptly, you pulled out the heart-shaped box of chocolates you’d been hiding behind your back the entire time, visibly trembling as you held it outwards.

“Will you be my valentine?”

It took him the count of three to respond, his eyes round and doe-like. He blinked rapidly, and then his cheeks flushed - not with his usual cheeriness, but a red that definitely spoke of flusteredness. “H-Hey, that's no fair…”

“...What?” Damn, was this your rejection? You had expected as much, but-

“I was supposed to give you chocolates first, y’know…”

And just like that, the familiar boy before you reached beside him into the darkly lit space and pulled out his own box of chocolates, lightly colored and wrapped beautifully in shimmering golden ribbon. “It took me so long to do this, and yet…”

“Holyfuckingshitwhat.” The curses flew from your mouth, condensed into a single word. “W- H- Y-You… You got chocolates for me?”

Now this was a first. Seeing his cheeks and tips of his ears all rosy, and seeing him all kicked-puppy-like. He nodded slowly, “Mhm… But, this is good too!”

He likes me.

He likes me.

He likes me.

Hoooooly shit.

“Ah, oh no, I didn’t give you an answer, did I?” His usually soft eyes now filled with panic. “Don't tell me I'm too late, I’ll be your valentine!”

The chocolates, surely, would be sweet. But the sensation of your lips meeting his, the undeniable warmth he bestowed upon you — it was sweeter than anything. ♡

(a/n) lmao guess what. i got sick again. i was sick last month and i mfucking sick and dying again and the only thing saving me is shitty couhg medicine that doesn't even work and like expired coughdrops my couhgdrop supply is running low and oh god i don't THINK IM GOINNA MAKE IT-

hahah anyways remember when i said id come back. well . guess what. ive been working on original works for a while now, but the delulu has indeed returned ( for longer than a week this time, hopefully )

i did work on some stuff during my inactivity! the post will probably be out tomorrow, but please don't be upset if i push the date back :)

anyways whipped up this quick drabble so all of you could be well fed on valentines. remember that its okay to be single on this day, and that there are plenty of other people out there like you. there is no shame in being single, and i love every one of you ! mwah <33

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori

[keferon]

You think Swindle or Onslaught ever think about the fact that their sadistic ghost/mecha brother somehow managed to land a boyfriend despite/bc of his everything. Like what are the odds.

Do you think they have discussions on whether Vortex has mentioned anything about the rest of the Combaticons to First Aid, or if they’ll have to explain some carefully chosen parts of it to him at some point since the happy mecha/pilot duo are definitely inseparable at this point.

I think Vortex would randomly drop pieces of wildest lore about him and his bros. Without any context or elaboration ahaha

I actually believe that if you are dating one Combaticon then you’re automatically getting adopted by all of them. They wouldn’t be clingy or affectionate but if you get in trouble? Or in need of help? Bam. Your boyfriend’s friends are here.

Swindle would do such a big rule stretches for First Aid. And First Aid probably wouldn’t even notice most of them haha. Just. You know. Both Onslaught and Swindle would look at First Aid and go “He’s Vortexes and Vortex is ours so he is ours too now.

Also Swindle would be pouring whiskey or something and be like “can you fuckin imagine?? The fucker doesn’t even have a face anymore and smells like mortuary and he still managed to find someone??”

[reccyls]

The Robin Who Grazed the Reaper’s Secret Eagerly Awaits His Words (Epilogue)

My translation of Victor’s 2025 birthday story.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue (Victor’s POV)

---

Rain dripped down her hair, running across her slightly reddened cheeks and down to her lips. Every inch of that was as precious as a gemstone, because I’ve come to know Kate. Slowly, my mouth formed my next words. Kate waited for what I was going to say next with an earnest look in her eyes. As if she was straining to hear my words over the sound of the relentless rain.

Kate: -Achoo!

Victor: Huh?

Kate: Um.

That moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity was abruptly broken. Kate’s sneeze brought me back to my senses.

Kate: Uh, ah- that wasn’t–

As Kate frantically shook her head, her face reddening in embarrassment, I could not hold back my building laughter.

Victor: Ahaha!

It was loud enough to drown out the sound of the rain.

(To sneeze at such a time… it’s as if fate did that on purpose.) (...And what a relief it was.)

My true feelings that were close to escaping me were forced back down.

Victor: You’ll catch a cold if you stay out any longer.

Pretending as if nothing had happened, I tugged my coat up over Kate’s shoulders so that it covered her head as well. …So I did not have to see what expression she was making now. Kate wouldn’t be able to look up without dislodging my coat, so I extended my hand towards her.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: Shall we make a run for it?

Her small hand reached out for mine. I intertwined our fingers together tightly, so that there was no gap between them.

Victor: Let’s go!

And we began to run in the rain. I’m certain that the reason that the freezing cold rain that fell on my head still felt so pleasant was all because of Kate.

Victor: It’s been a while since I went for a run in the rain. It’s fun. Victor: I think I understand how William feels now.

As we ran I turned to look at Kate. And she nodded, but–

(She’s decided not to ask.)

There was a somewhat uncertain look in her eyes that seemed to pierce through me.

(It’d be for the best if you pretended you never noticed anything.)

Kate was earnest, and kind. I’m sure she wanted to ask how I killed that man… …What I was about to say just now. But she knew that I didn’t want to answer, and so she chose to never ask.

(You have no idea how much more that makes me adore you.)

When would be the day that I could explain everything to you? A part of me wanted to say that day would never come, but another part was saying, “Never say never”...

Kate: …I’m going to do my best.

Victor: What?

I found myself stopping where I stood, looking back at Kate’s brilliant smile.

Kate: I’m going to do my best, work as hard as I can. So that when you’re hurt, or need help, I’ll be the first person you turn to. Kate: So keep watching over me, Victor!

(Ah, that’s right.)

And now it was Kate who took the lead, and ran ahead while pulling me along with her.

(I think that someday, surely. Someday you’ll know everything there is to know about me.) (Somewhere along the way, I’ve even started to hope for it.)

The sight of Kate running forwards was dizzying in its brilliance. As if she was lit from within by an undying, unchanging radiance.

Victor: I will. Victor: Always.

…

(Where is Kate?)

The next day, after we had returned to the castle, I was searching for Kate.

Kate: The plan was a complete failure. I’m so sorry!

The door to the lounge was left slightly ajar. As I heard Kate’s voice through the gap, my feet came to a stop.

William: It wasn’t your fault. Letting that man slip away back then was my mistake.

I peered through the gap. I could see William seated on a chair, And then there was Kate, looking downcast that their plan had not worked. I knew that William had deliberately let the man who attacked Kate escape during his mission. But he would certainly not sit idly upon hearing that the man had gone after Kate.

(If I hadn’t killed that man while rescuing Kate back then…) (I’m certain an equally unfortunate end would have come to him regardless.)

Kate didn’t ask William how I killed the man, and I felt my mouth curving into a smile.

(Still not prying. Always so considerate.)

As I basked in that warm feeling, William raised his gaze.

William: Victor probably had another reason for dealing with that man, you know.

Kate: Did he?

His eyes met mine through the gap in the door. An amused smile settled on his face.

William: Who would be able to stomach having someone else lay a hand on what they consider theirs?

His grin was blatant provocation. I returned with a smile of my own, and…

Kate: Ah!

Victor: What are the two of you talking about?

Kate startled as I hugged her from behind.

William: We were just talking about you, about how our grand plan failed.

Victor: Regardless of whether things went according to your grand plan or not, knowing that the two of you wanted to celebrate my birthday makes it count as a success in my book!

And then, I looked to Kate, explaining my reason for looking for her in the first place.

Victor: But I was wondering if we could have a redo of my birthday.

Kate: A redo?

Her large eyes blinked rapidly, making her look like a startled little animal.

(Adorable…)

I met William’s gaze. After a moment, he suddenly chuckled and looked away.

William: I don’t have any interest in stealing people’s things, so feel free to do as you like.

Victor: I’ll kindly take you up on that.

Taking the stunned Kate’s hand in my own, I put on my best look. Just a little.

Victor: Kate, will you go on a date with me?

Kate: Ye– …Huh? Kate: A date!?

…

Kate still seemed bewildered as I led her to a recently-opened coffee shop.

Victor: Liam told me that Harrison recommended this cafe. Victor: Their cakes are delicious, apparently.

As Kate looked around the cutely-decorated shop, she smiled.

Kate: Thank you for bringing me here.

Victor: You’re very welcome. I’m glad I can see you look this excited, too.

(I knew this was the right choice.)

Kate still looked a little dejected, likely because she wasn’t able to properly celebrate my birthday yesterday. But I didn’t bring her here to lift her spirits. Kate looked puzzled as a cake with candles on it was brought out. I found myself smiling in response.

Victor: Maybe you might be thinking I chose this place to try and cheer you up. Victor: But I’m not kind enough for that.

(No, I’m not a kind person at all.)

Victor: I brought you here due to my own selfishness. Victor: Because I want you to celebrate my birthday again.

I had thought that just holding hands with her was enough.

(That as long as you were by my side, I would be satisfied.)

But somehow, without my notice, a desire I thought I had long-since lost had emerged once more. I wanted her to think of me. I wanted her all for myself.

Kate’s eyes curved into crescents as she beamed. Seeing how happy she looked, I made another request.

Victor: Will you sing ‘Happy Birthday’ for me?

Kate: Of course!

In high spirits, Kate jolted as she remembered something. She grasped my hand which was resting on the table.

Kate: Happy birthday, Victor. Kate: Let’s celebrate your birthday together again next year, and the year after that, and all the years after that, too.

She spoke so freely about the notion that our lives would still be woven together in the future. Unable to confirm her wish, I could only smile back at her. After Kate’s lovely singing and I had blown out the candles, perhaps she thought that this redone birthday would soon come to an end. However…

Victor: After this, we’ll head to Harrods and get you a dress.

This was only the start.

Kate: For me?

Victor: And after we pick out matching shoes and accessories for you, we’ll take a carriage to a restaurant just outside of town for dinner. Victor: And when we get back, let’s drink and chat in the lounge until midnight. Victor: You will celebrate my birthday with me, won’t you?

At my last request, Kate beamed. Her smile was like a blooming flower, and I couldn’t look away.

Kate: Of course I will!

(If someday, I find someone who will never let go of my hand…)

…Perhaps it would be her. At the gentle touch of her hand, I closed my eyes.

[alllgator-blood]

Your nari reminds me of Aku from samurai jack

AHAHA YESS I'M SO GLAD. While I don't think I drew inspiration from any fictional characters for any of the other bishops, narinder is like an amalgamate of several cartoon/video game characters and aku was actually one of them!! I made a picture FOREVER ago where he was drawn like each one, but I think I lost it or never saved it. So I drew this instead

A lot of their character traits definitely overlap, but if I had to pin down which character has the most influence over which part:

His neck is supposed to be like the devil from cuphead's serpent form, his face/expressions are drawn like ren hoek's, his hands/the bottom of his clothes are like aku's, his posture/poses are inspired by Him, and while klogg is the biggest stretch in terms of appearance, his personality/demeanor is DEFINITELY klogg. Which is to say, flamboyant evil crackhead who has canonically committed war crimes over a magic crown

[toruforuu]

gojo satoru x reader || hogwarts au (18+)

wonderwall ch.4 receding youth

✼pairing: hogwarts au - slytherin!gojo x ravenclaw!reader

✼summary: gojo satoru, the golden boy of a famous family lineage of wizards sets his sights on you, a half blood defying his pureblood morals. he makes it a goal in his life to make yours a living hell. years of endless pestering, teasing and rivalry stretching out. as times goes on, he finds himself thinking about you more than he isn’t. he grows torn between his family’s beliefs and the forbidden ache tickling his chest whenever he sees you

✼meaning: wonderwall - the person you cannot stop thinking about (song by oasis)

✼genre/tags: hogwarts au, female reader, strangers to enemies/sort of academic rivals to forbidden lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut, pining and yearning (mostly gojo), built up tension, teasing, bickering and pestering, jealousy, slightly spoiled gojo, obsessed and lovesick gojo, both are pretty oblivious to their feelings

✼warnings: discrimination, death, grief, shitty parents, light bullying, mentions of hook ups, sexual topics, family pressure and trauma, mentions of injuries and violence, degradation, mentions of political views, escalating political situation, lgbtq representation, cheating

✼word count: 6.5k

✼chapter: 4/?

a/n: hiii! another chapter successfully done yay! i had to do a lot of research for this and the upcoming chapters and i feel like i discovered harry potter tok all over again ahaha. this chapter is the last one set in the past so we are hitting up present, i am so excited to share where the story goes. i have it all planned out in my notes app:>

based on this //  previous chapter // next chapter 

˚⟡˖ ࣪:link to the playlist

˚⟡˖ ࣪:link to the vision-board

In comparison to year five, year six casted a rather gloomy atmosphere. You had anticipated the free periods were meant to deceive when you got your hands on the schedule. And you were right, free periods indeed served as an attempt to keep up with the amount of homework that was being set rather than for enjoyment, the bar high. Not only were you studying as though exams were everyday, but the lessons themselves became more demanding than ever before.

The sixth year was the year in which you and all of your classmates advanced to N.E.W.T. level classes — short for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test.

Based off your O.W.L scores — standard tests taken at the end of year five — and depending on the minimum requests of the professor teaching the subject at that time, you were allowed to participate in any number of classes as long as you met the requirements. Neither the core classes nor the elective courses were available to those who did not meet said requirements, holding some of your fellow classmates back. While you did have the opportunity to choose whether you wished to continue in particular subjects, those N.E.W.T. subjects you began studying in your sixth year were expected to be carried on into year seven, and to pass the N.E.W.T. exam in that subject as a form of graduation.

You could also elect to take part in Apparition lessons for a fee of twelve Galleons — to teleport to or from a place. If one was seventeen years of age, or would turn seventeen on or before the 31st of August then you’d be eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor. Nearly the entirety of the whole year applied, because for one it was a skill which could come in pretty handy and would certainly make things much easier. The class was scheduled to take place shortly after Christmas before the arrival of spring.

Destination, Determination, and Deliberation — the three D’s of Apparition.

The lessons consisted of students needing to apparate into a hoop by focusing your mind on the hoop and then to spin around with the intention of appearing in the hoop. Other Hogwarts teachers would be around to assist any students who had accidentally splinched themselves during the lessons. That’s when many of the most changed their mind due to fear, fear of getting splinched — or also known as the separation of random body parts which would occur when the mind was insufficiently determined. For some the price wasn’t worth paying for.

You would received a licence to Apparate by the end of April if you were successful enough. Luckily, you were and most of your friends too. Expect Arabella who was one of the majority who hadn’t finished the course due to her self doubting. Those who splinched themselves during the final exam, even in a minor way, would be forced to retake the test.

Other than that, year sixth managed to have you and the larger part of students burying your noses in books, succumbing to a cycle of getting up each morning only to end up utterly spent each night. Balancing quidditch, your social life and studies forced you to make a merciless sacrifice in your sleep schedule. Running low on energy while holding up your imagine along with grades was nearly impossible. One of your spheres had to experience a lack. The social aspect of your life receiving the low blow eventually.

When the Yule ball came to an end, the blossoming romance between you and the prince of Gryffindor’s quidditch only crossed the starting line. It soon became evident that the two of you would form a couple, extending everyone’s expectations. You spent the entire spring together, whenever it was walking around the Black lake or staying up late in the library after the curfew, stealing clandestine kisses from each other. You didn’t hold it against the other when you played on the field, one’s team surpassing the other. He quickly became accustomed to your ways with your friends, joining you on your trips to Hogsmeade regularly. He was kind enough to make sure you were fed and hydrated throughout the weeks before upcoming exams. He was there to console you when the Slytherin’s word ripped through your set up walls, comforting you about your academical abilities. He was kind despite his firm looking nature, he cared for you in way you wished someone would when you read fairytales as a child. For some time, it was all portrayed perfectly in your eyes. Flawless. Maybe it was because you often skimmed through lessons ahead, giving you a heads up, therefore you didn’t felt the need to overbearingly study as others, sparing time for your boyfriend. That didn’t seem to transfer into year six as it was a completely new custom for you. You panicked, picking yourself together barely with no effort left for a relationship at that moment.

Unfortunately, by that time, you guessed what Satoru Gojo meant by referring to your boyfriend as “someone like that”. The words which he spitted out after still lingering in your head during many of your sleepless nights too. It slowly began to go downhill in late summer of year six when you were already settled back at school, your banter changing for the worse. He started to pop by less and less, leaving you with your friends. His efforts in conversations became stiff and forced. You sensed how wrong it felt, the sudden shift. In the beginning of the downfall, you thought of the words the white haired Slytherin slurred out. Pushing them aside as they were surely only haunting your mind for nothing. However, as time went on it unraveled he might have been right to some extent. Not that you would ever admit to anyone.

You blamed yourself for the fall out between you, often engaging in conversations and apologising for the lack of anticipation from your side. Only for it to end the same as it always did. Him telling you to not worry about it since he understands how much your academics matter to you, promising to be and do better. And couple of days, if not hours, he’d be the same as before, depriving you of any explanation. Driving you further down the hole.

It was one of those foggy early mornings in potion lessons when you could feel your eyes shutting down in exhaustion, your body betraying you after you spent extra hours chatting with your impatient boyfriend last night. Trying to push away the inevitable, which was hanging in the thick air above your head, waiting patiently to grab you by the throat and behead you.

You were brought to life by a tug at your sleeve to warn you of the professor entering, the older twin saving you from earning yourself detention. Dorothy was the only one from your friends joining you on taking advanced positions as it wasn’t a fan favourite between the students for its need of precision. Arabella was one for herbology and taking care of magical creatures, while Beatrice thrilled in astronomy and divination, often practicing her reading skills on you. You too weren’t overly keen to potions, nonetheless you took the class, thinking about your future instead. You had it figured out back then, heading into the same field of work as your mother.

The main classes you chose for your advantage were: history of magic (undoubtedly your favourite), defence against the dark arts, charms, transfiguration and lastly, astronomy (since you liked to understand your friend’s rambling at least a bit and found it breathtaking).

The female professor clasped her hands in an attempt to gather your attention before greeting you with a cheeky smile. The lesson hadn’t started without her expressing excitement about how so many students joined her class that year, her voice dripping with honesty and gratitude. Truthfully, you still couldn’t pay close attention to what she had to say as the lack of sleep kept bothering you. You couldn’t recall the last time you had felt so tired. You blinked a couple of times, chasing the exhaustion away and in the process you caught a piece of artic locks cornered into the other side of the room. That damn bastard picked nearly the same advanced classes as you since he didn’t give a particular care about it, he was good at anything anyway, so he could pesk you even then. Your movements weren’t swift enough to not make out the sign of lazy smirk written all over his lips.

“This potion will may be appetising to you, young folks, for what is stupidity without youthful love?” the professor’s soothing voice echoed almost poetically in your mind, thoughts sliding over to the imagine of your boyfriend, her words scratching a place.

“Does anymore here know what is inside?” she takes a step closer to a pot, palm lingering over the lid to build up some sort of tension. Leaving all the students to go guessing about what is swirling within the walls of the pot, her words serving as a riddle.

“Amortentia,” you blurted out in a whisper, shocked that the professor managed to caught your words. She praised you instantly, removing the lid.

“Come closer and tell me what else you know, child,” she gestured for you to come closer with her hand, nodding her head gently in your direction. You took a sharp breath, steadying yourself before stepping closer to her, revealing your tired figure to the remaining students.

“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world. It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rising from the potion in spirals,” you spoke deliberately with care, voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear this time.

“It smells different to each person, according to what attracts them,” you went on, endless hours in the library granting you the information which was now basically engraved in your hemispheres.

“For example, to me it smells like,” your body inched closer to the pot, leaning over to see the bubbling pink liquid painted in the same shade as newly sprang carnations.

“Cinnamon,” was the first thing pushing up through your nostrils, the familiarity of it making your head spin. Your boyfriend carried the smell, you recognised it immediately.

“Quill ink,” as the second aroma took over you, the intensity made you nearly stumble. You couldn’t count how many times you ended up with quill stains after study sessions, who didn’t use quill ink? The diversity of the smell leaving you waver.

“Crispy winter air,” you mumbled as you sniffed the spiralling essence of the potion.

“White amber and..” you shallowed the dry lump in your throat when two other scents materialised. Peppermint cream? Your mouth couldn’t voice out the other smell out loud, not comprehending where it was all coming from as those notes were not something you were able to categorise.

You stepped back, eyes temporarily shutting to regain your sanity. You shook your head, clearing your throat in the process and then lined yourself back amongst the other students, pushing strands of hair behind your ear. You walked with your head low, only looking up at the sight of the older twin arching her brows at you in curiosity. You would definitely be under an interrogation later.

“Very good, love,” the professor congratulated you in addition.

“As you can see the advanced potion is strong to the point where the simple smell can be overwhelming to some. The usage of it in history is well known and registered, causing the produce of it to become very restricted for one should never underestimate obsessive infatuation,” the voice carries on, hinting causation while your senses still fumbled with the overwhelming scents, making your head pound.

“Please, feel welcomed to smell it,” she once again gestured with her hand, inviting everyone closer.

A line of curious students formed, the queue including both your friend and the white haired wizard as well. Dorothy first asked if you would be okay on your own for a moment to which you simply nodded, bearing a soft smile.

Some people called out what they were sensing, some kept it to themselves. Satoru was the one to keep quiet, he stood by the pod for longer than you intended he would. Your eyes calculating his movements, part of you curious what someone like him would proceed to smell in the watery attraction. The furrowing of his brows escaping your vision.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈๑⋅⋯ ୨˚୧ ⋯⋅๑┈┈┈┈┈┈•• ✼

A layer of silent heaving pressed onto you as the winter break approached. There used to be a certain tenderness linked with winter in addition to the coldness, now it transformed into despair, leaving your heart bruised.

You were sprawled on a cushioned couch in the Ravenclaw’s common room, the place dead silent as most people already took the train home. The unusual void of businesses leaving you to drown in your sorrows. You sat by the fireplace, the silence so demanding you could pick out the sound of burning wood, the dancing spurts of flickering fire reflecting in your orbs as you pondered your troubled mind. This specific time last year felt like you were living a novel-like life, unlike these douses of misery you were being fed now.

For a while your life truly felt perfect, you were chasing a high so blindly that you forgot that the only way out from a high is to go down. Further down than you anticipated. And you also couldn’t believe that the next year would be your last at the school of magic, time flashing quickly before your eyes.

Your father’s health severely declined somewhere admits the seasons which is why you were advised to stay at Hogwarts for the break by your mother, exceptionally. It wounded her to leave you behind for such a holiday, however, she promised she and your father would make it up to you. Once they would return from the continent of America. They travelled overseas in search of a high quality doctor who could find an alternative treatment that might work for your father, because the ones they tried back at your hometown weren’t enough. It shred you to pieces seeing the life deflate from your father’s features. You begged your mother to let you come with them as you were nearly an adult legally. Though it wasn’t enough to convince her. She didn’t want you to see the cruelty of the situation through your own lenses.

“Finished packing?” you didn’t need to check who it was, your gaze stayed glued to the ceiling covered with paintings of constellations, the solar system and lonely stars.

“What are you doing here?” the question wrapped without any distinguishing emotion he could decipher, making him tilt his head to the side at your current state of misery.

“Relax,” he said teasingly “I was dropping something by,” he huffed out, hands hidden in his pockets. You navigated your head towards him for a brief moment, noticing he wasn’t dressed in the usual black robe with the uniform underneath. He was dressed casual. No, casual perhaps wouldn’t be the best word to describe him in any sense. His form was hugged by a burgundy jumper, a button up shirt with a tie tucked beneath safely. A belt securing his pleated jet black pants in place at his waist. An elegant black coat draped over his forearm which matched his pants. He must have been on his way home too.

“You got in?” you questioned as the only way to get in to the Ravenclaw’s common room is to solve a riddle given at the entrance, expression puzzled before you picked yourself up to sit. You straightened your posture to appear more put together, you didn’t want him to see you hitting rock bottom.

“Like it’s what? Hard?” his eyes austere and searching, shit-eating grin forming on his lips.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he called you out a moment later when he figured you wouldn’t be answering him. He took in your appearance, of course, the change in your demeanour impossible to overlook since it was so unlike your normal self.

“Yeah, I am,” you lied hesitantly, unsure whenever he already knew what’s been spread around or if he was clueless to your father’s state. You chose to lie, hoping he wouldn’t know any circumstances so you could get out of the interaction as soon as possible.

He is not ought to be informed, you thought to yourself. He was the last person on Earth you wished to cross paths with and explain the situation to so the universe must have hated you.

“Oh yeah? Then why aren’t you on the train home with Arabella?” he scoffed at your lame attempt of cover up, but his tone didn’t cary any trace of his usual arrogance.

“Were you spying on me?” you tried to dodge the topic once again, rolling your eyes in annoyance.

“I saw you two saying goodbye,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders as his expression transformed into a sheepish one at best.

“So you were,” you clicked your lips together, leaning into the couch. Your gaze wandered into your lap, fingers tracing out the delicate drawings of hearts on your pyjama pants. From what you heard his birthday was in winter, in December as a matter of fact. Actually getting to think about it, it wasn’t a breathtaking sacred fact, it made sense to a degree. His presence awoke the same energy as winter days of clear brilliance.

So his birthday must have been days ago, the thought sprinted across your brain.

“Don’t you go home every break?” the words shot up straight into your heart which instantly shattered a little over his innocent question. Satoru Gojo didn’t act with the intention to cause damage for the first time since forever, yet he still unknowingly managed to do the opposite of what he truly wanted.

“Something came up,” for the first time since the beginning of your times, you haven’t barked back at him as you were too preoccupied with your own wonderings to acknowledge such an option. It would be a lie to say it didn’t knock the wind out of Satoru’s lungs to see you deprived of your drive.

“Staying here, is it?” he nodded casually, scanning the common room and even propping his head back a little to catch a peak of the painted ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the process.

“Mhhm,” a hum of agreement slipped past your lips.

“Merry Christmas then,” the white haired wizard hadn’t felt an urge to poke you any further so he wished you happy holidays as a way to depart, sensing his presence wasn’t welcomed. Plus, he had a train to catch.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back dryly, letting him hang on for a second. He then nodded, sparing you one last look before taking his leave.

The conversation felt unlike any other you shared, it was force less and lacking in your dynamic. It worried the blue eyed young man. He reflected on the chat while on the train, cracking his head open on what could possibly bend you to your knees when his years of bickering and pestering couldn’t.

And soon it was March already. You opened the windows, spring floating in and kissing you on the tip of your nose. God, you have waited eternally — now the sun bathed the world in layers of lucent yellow. But the small delight from the awakening of the sun didn’t last as it wasn’t long till you found out it indeed wasn’t your boyfriend you smelled in the love sickening potion. To be specific, your ex boyfriend. You had no idea whose scents you sensed and it probably would be a little maddening to you if you wouldn’t be broken over the fact you got broken up with. Not only that. The quidditch star of Gryffindor mapped it out in a clever way, pulling you to the side after practice to spill the truth. Well, his own truth he built up in order to come out as the good guy.

His voice was gentle as he guided you through all the reasons why you weren’t able to form a match any longer, highlighting his own mistakes and taking most of the blame to make himself feel less guilty. You kept still as your throat tightened to the point where speaking was not a privileged you possessed at the moment. Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes throughout his way with words, your stubborn strength pushing you to leave your emotions in check. At least until he would be gone or you somewhere out of his sights.

It crashed down onto you properly days later when he promenaded himself through the hall with a new girl by his side. You understood then, all his indifferences and cold, vacant answers. The rush of pain felt like an arrow piercing through your flesh, blood gushing out of the wound as you remained unable to tent it. The news came to you from his distant cousin. A girl Arabella was seeing in a secret since the ball, making it even worse knowing there were three of you in the relationship.

Regardless of the changing weather of March, you ended up enveloped in the arms of your dear friend at the very top of the Astronomy tower where you occasionally went when you could tolerate each other’s presence only. It was a safe space for you. And you desperately needed a place where you could come apart.

“I wish there was a way to know, then I would never allow it to even start,” your shaky voice declared as your head rested against your friend’s chest, her vanilla scent gently attacking your senses as tears continued to stream down your cheeks. Eyes puffy and red from the amount of tears shed.

“Don’t be like that, it made you happy for a while. Isn’t that enough?” her fingers soothingly glided over your hair, bringing a sense of comfort and placing a bandage over your torn heart which bled and bled. The one she didn’t break.

“I was foolish,” your defeated form stated and as you replayed the whole relationship, the signs were there. You simply couldn’t seem them due to the blindness and stupidity of love which only left you feeling dumber now. Something not even the strongest love potion in the world could fix.

“It’s the price we pay for love. Stop being hard on yourself,” Arabella’s voice pressed, scolding you for degrading yourself, because seeing you so bend left a sore bruise on her as well.

“I, just- how will I be able to go around now?” you spoke softly in a muffled tone. The bare imagine of how it would feel to walk through the hallways, attend quidditch practices and lessons while having to face him shattered you down. Your face pressing into the skin of her chest harder.

“You’ll wake up one morning without the pain,” your friend went on with reassuring you, mumbling sweet nothings in an attempt to make you feel better.

“It will take forever,”

“The time will pass anyway,” she drawled out a soft chuckle, fingers neatly brushing your hair from your forehead — her words resonating with a part of your being.

The time will pass anyway. It both electrified and frightened you, the strength of those simple words carrying such a thoughtful meaning. It meant you would learn to bounce back just like your trampoline.

“And when did you get so wise, huh?” you whimpered with a snicker coming out along through the remaining sobs as you looked up from her chest. Nose sniffling while your heaving chest slowly rose back to a normal pace.

“Learnt from the best,” her tone teased you to escalate your mood higher, pinching your cheek with her fingers to which you only playfully winced.

“I love you,” her straightforward gesture of platonic affection charmed a weak smile to your lipd. Leaving you to repeat her words after bringing her into a tight embrace.

Meanwhile Satoru Gojo stood still underneath the stairs leading up to the top of the tower, tucked safely in the shadows as he quietly listened on the scene playing out. He should’ve left, shouldn’t have eavesdropped, however, something within him kept him glued to the spot. His fists were clenched since it was clear what this was about. Everyone saw the jerk parading his new partner days after your split, when some still not aware of it. Him included. Major part of him felt sort of relieved that you got rid off the bad influence masked in sheep’s clothing, smaller part of him was sorry for you. And the tiniest part of him spiralled with thrill as well, ecstatic he was right all along. Nonetheless, he knew you would live on due to having such friends by your side. You were in good hands.

Satoru Gojo did some of his best decisions in the upcoming days, he let his grades drop to ease the pressure he had been giving you. Allowing you to rest up, not having you all worked over stupid grades which didn’t matter to him anyway.

He did one other thing he was pleased with, one the white haired menace felt entitled to doing.

You weren’t supposed to be in the audience when the spring season of quidditch kicked off with Gryffindors playing up against Slytherin. The first match of the second semester. You decided to miss out on it. The wound was still after all too raw and could be torn open by the imagine of your ex partner flawlessly fleeting through the sky. But Arabella bursted into your shared room with urgency, which was rarely shown in her behaviour, dragging you to the match anyway regardless of your protests. You couldn’t stay locked away from the outside world, rotting in your bed forever and it was her goal to remind you of the little things you loved so dearly. So there you were, watching the players warming up for the actual match. A pang of nostalgia suffocated your heavy heart, meanwhile the Slytherin’s captain, Satoru Gojo, already prepared in his position.

The game established a clear winner in the first half of the game. Gryffindor struck a point after point because of the hurried and impatient pace the Slytherin’s obtained, lacking their witty and precise play-style. The captain of the team itself seemed to be off, you took a notice of their inadequacy. For the first time in a century you chose to be on the Slytherin’s side, praying they would leave Gryffindor bitting the dust and it turned out your favour was meaningless.

Your ex boyfriend fulfilled his position of a beater well, pushing the Blugders away from his teammates to save them from being knocked down. Satoru restored to his calm behaviour as he and his team kept losing, still, he was aware of the urge in his chest to let go of the restrictions all too well. And he was, oh, so close to snapping at the sight of a flashy smile belonging to the beater of Gryffindor, your idiotic ex boyfriend.

When the reality of having nothing to lose washed over him, the grip on his morals slipped and he allowed himself to clash into a one particular player of the opposite team. Moulding it to look like an accident the first time, the second time was suspicious but could still be passed on as unintentional. However, the third time justified his actions were spot on, non accidental at all. He lunged into him, nearly knocking him down to the ground, which your ex didn’t let slide that easily. The game rooting with corruption at their attempts at one another. The captain of Slytherin was disgustingly clever, flying lower than a normal player would as he knew the beater of Gryffindor would follow.

You rose from your seat in the audience, rushing down the stairs to look down over the railing. When you did, your ex partner was on the ground lying on his back with the white haired starlet straddling him. Fists flying his way down, crushing against the side of his face. Even up from the tower you could see the blood seeping out of your ex partner’s mouth. He fought back, kicking arms and legs in the process of trying to get Satoru off him. It did him no good, he eventually stopped fighting and took it until his teammates rushed down to tear them apart.

The Slytherins were disqualified from the game all due to the acts of their captain. A first win of the season falling Gryffindor’s way. And Satoru Gojo was banned from playing for two weeks.

Next time you found yourself in the air up against Slytherin, you couldn’t pass on the opportunity to fly over to the white haired disaster before the start of the match. Sensing it was right to address the situation even though you weren’t hundred percent sure the picked up fight wasn’t a coincidence. But since the poor guy ended up with a broken nose, curiosity got the better out of you.

“You shouldn’t have,” you empathised the words, hinting at the meaning but not saying it out fully. Strands of hair flew across your face due to the mild spring breeze as you spoke up despite the tight grip of the hair tie holding it in a ponytail, his hair moving in a similar mesmerising way.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged as he glanced down your way, discarding look written over his features which signalled you to go away.

“The fight-“ you proceeded to be instantly cut off.

“I was merely playing the game and protecting myself, don’t get ahead of yourself ” he frowned, voice laced with his usual overbearing arrogance which brought regret into your system in no time.

“Right,” you breathed out awkwardly but firmly, eyes unable to maintain eye contact as you weren’t sure how to react. You flew away on your broomstick without any further declaration, turning your overthinking off throughout the duration of the match.

Even so, the season of fresh beginnings, renewal and growth didn’t bring fruition at all. Quite the opposite, the world’s righteousness faltered and rotted away with the evil spreading and rising in numbers. The agenda against muggles, wizards mixing with non wizards and muggleborn wizards sparking controversy in the wizard world of politics. It alarmed you as your mother was undoubtedly a target to take down, her position at the Ministry of magic holding a powerful hand of cards. And as soon as the professors initiated any warnings or speeches during lessons, you sensed something ugly covering the world into its beguiling covers.

“We are entering dark times, children, so it’s important for you to know how to defend against your deepest fears” a professor responsible for the defence against dark arts pulled you and your classmates into an older class sitting at one of the highest peaks of Hogwarts for a special occasion.

“The Boggart sitting in the darkness within the wardrobe has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears,” he spoke carefully about the extant being hidden behind the wooden door.

“Each one of you will try your luck. The key to the spell of Riddikulus is to phantom a funny imagine as a defence, which makes the Boggart take an official form of what you thought about,” he goes on with explaining the spell.

“Anyone up to go first?” the professor suggested lightly which earned him only one hand raised into the air. A hand of the exceptional young wizard with hair the shade of picturesque snow.

He confidently stepped up in front of the wardrobe, elm wood wand with dragon heartstring at its core stretching out at overwhelming 14.5inches in his hand, ready to preform the spell. An unfounded belief that only pure-bloods can produce magic from elm wands circled the wood of the wand he was holding. The truth is that elm wands prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity. Of all wand woods, elm produces the fewest accidents, the least foolish errors, and the most elegant charms and spells — these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced magic in the right hands, which makes it highly desirable to those who espouse the pure-blood philosophy. The core, a dragon heartstring produces wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Wands paired with Dragon heartstrings tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The cunning dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental. And Satoru fitted the picture of the typical wielded of the wand for sure. Just about to find out which direction he would head in.

As the handle of the wardrobe swinged the door open, immense coldness wrapped around you like a cloak while your stomach turned over with nausea. Satoru, the usual radiant and carefree young man found himself facing a mirror instead of a notorious beast, reflecting his beauty. Pair of the same lucent eyes staring back at him. He felt his heart pace quicken against the press of his ribs. Pure logic spilled from his brain, leaving him baffled as he watched the mirror starting to crack. The painful sound of screeching glass echoing through the quiet classroom where the fall of a head-pin could be heard.

“Riddikulus,” he called out after what had felt like an eternity, leaving your breath caught somewhere in between your throat and lungs. The Boggart transformed right away into a tiny music box, letting out funky tunes. Quiet classmates watching erupted in cheers suddenly, daring to pat him on his back for being successful. In spite of his cool and nonchalant demeanour, a part of him felt bare to the rest of the world at that precise moment.

You watched the people ahead of you in the line conquer the Boggart without a hiss of panic. And when it finally came to your turn, you hesitantly pulled out your 103/4 inch wand, gripping it tightly as you signalled for the professor to open the door once more. Vine wands are among the less common types, and their owners are nearly always those witches or wizards who seek a greater purpose, who have a vision beyond the ordinary and who frequently astound those who think they know them best. Vine wands seem strongly attracted by personalities with hidden depths, being more sensitive than any other type when it comes to detecting a prospective match. And wands with Phoenix feathers at its core, the rarest one, are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike. Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won. But you managed, the wand picking you for a reason in that shop all those years ago, leaving you to wonder what that reason is.

Second later you gasped when everyone including the professor got devoured by the darkness spreading around you, the now familiar chilliness embracing you like a tight hug. You twirled in each direction, sensing a presence within the spreads of the dark desperate to inch closer. You cursed silently under your breath, senses numbed by the anxiety and terror as you found yourself swallowed by the darkness. Your fingers tightened around the wand before lifting it into the air. Twisting it in a simple movement as you casted the spell, recalling a heartfelt memory between you and your parents. The Boggart dissolved into a plump orange cat which used to run around your neighbourhood when you were little, the mews of the animal sounding a little too similar to snorting . You averted your gaze to find all eyes were on you. A pair of machiavellian orbs amongst them.

At the end of the school year, all students from every year were gathered in the Great hall as an emergency was put together by the headmaster last minute. Everyone was wearing their summer clothing as the belongings were already secured safely in the awaiting train, ready to depart for the break.

“As you all know by now, our world is heading towards evil. I shouldn’t speak any of this to you, but I refuse to leave you in the dark. Invisible forces are toying with us to see how far they can go before they make themselves material, showing their faces to the world. I advise you to be safe during your summer, and bear in mind that we’re entering the making of history. See you all in the new school year,” the headmaster’s voice lined with fondness, bringing the words out with care and gentleness. You felt petrified as you listened, goosebumps appearing on your body. Nothing would ever be the same. You knew then, all was about to fall over the brim of change.

Satoru kept his expression neutral, not daring to let his facade slip. A gathering evil, a gathering evil he was part of. Numbness stored in his chest as gasps filled the Great Hall, hushed whispers of the younger fellow students heard in the distance. The world might have been on the undeniable turn for the worse, but so was he. He was in front of a crossroad. The thing which could stop him from submerging into the darkness stood a couple of feet away from the boy, a taste of the sun. One would never know, because the stubborn wizard would refuse to go against his family for something so fragile and unpredictable, that is if he even gathered the courage to acknowledge the goodness swirling through him whenever he saw you.

And just like fireworks receding into the night, you both felt your innocent youth slipping through your fingers like water, for two very different reasons.

credits for dividers: [@enchanthings-a @cafekitsune]

[yandere-yearnings]

Sleeping....cuddling with sun...and then grinding against him 🤤 AHAHA my head is filled with sun 🧍‍♀️😇🥰🙏

I WANNA MAKE HIM FLUSTERED SO BAD WILL HE BE FLUSTERED FROM THAT??? being all peaceful and quiet and then outta nowhere I just feel like I wanna give him some loving and just ride him so he won't have to worry about a thing 😔☝️☝️ so I grind against him to initiate 🥰🥰 lemme do all the work for u babygirl 🤗🤗 leave it to me sunny hunny 💋💋

this ask has been sitting in my inbox for so long but i've been meaning to get back to it hhh sorry for the really late reply nonnie!! (and yes he would be super flustered😭🩷)

NSFW under the cut!

Humid nights never felt as peaceful as when he spent them with you. After the day had taken its toll on him, bones heavy feeling like he'd fall forever if you weren't there to catch him. Curled into you, like the second marking in a double inverted comma; chin to your head, back to his chest and his knees pushing up into the undersides of yours.

The heat was sweltering, had you writhing creases into the sheets, your clothes riding up, Sun's skin sticking to yours where his arm wound around your midsection. Neither of you were asleep, the minute hand of the clock kept ticking on the time past, until your restlessness ebbed and you eventually settled into your warm cage.

Silence made his steady breaths seem all too peaceful, removed him from the ever flustered man you knew — and you couldn't help the idea that came to mind in the quiet of the night. He'd finally gotten comfortable with you, enough to bury his face into your nape without imploding, but maybe you missed who he was months ago.

It wouldn't hurt, just to test the power you still held over him.

You stretched your legs out, innocent enough, and though his grip tightened ever so slightly, Sun shifted to accommodate. It had your heart brimming, almost made you smile at how cute his clinginess was. Hips pressed right to his pelvis, you relished in the choked up little sound he made when you moved, grinding right against a part of him that filled for you so easily.

"Y-Y/N..." he moaned, pretty, a symphony cascading with the muffled whimpers that followed. Your hand intertwined with his and he clutched it like a lifeline. "What are you- ah-"

You felt more than heard the shudder that ran through his body, vibrating against your spine deliciously. Whether it was because he was sensitive or because it was you, didn't really matter when you had him twitching and bowing against you.

"What was that, baby?" You cooed, salacious. "Couldn't hear you over how loud you're being."

"Please," he whined, "don't tease me, please, 'm gonna die."

With the way he'd gotten weak, you'd doubt that was a lie. Luckily for Sun, you were nothing if not constantly lead by your desire to indulge him when he begged. It wasn't difficult to hook your digits around his wrist, swiftly peeling him away and twisting so you were on top of him all at once — and pressed into the sheets beneath you, Sun was a masterpiece of a mess. Hair sprawled and chest heaving, blush heavier than you'd ever seen before as he looked up at you under lidded eyes.

One chaste kiss to the tears tracking down his cheek before you pulled away. Temperature a fever pitch that thrummed violently against your palms rested on his chest, you rocked, and his thighs quivered. Entirely fucked out for you despite the fact that this was barely anything, Sun's lips parted on a broken gasp of your name. Lovesick little pleas, over and over like they would endear you to him, make you cave, and that assumption wasn't wrong.

Flicking over his form once in appraisal, what your minuscule actions had reduced him to was enough to whet your appetite. You tugged at the waistband of his sweats, tongue darting out, licking your lips; a promise whispered, "gonna spoil you tonight."

[therealsquiddo]

I was rewatching one of your videos for the 10 bajillionth time and I only just now realized that I could literally just ask you this, in one of your scary videos you mentioned that you edited out yourself talking about the farlands in other videos and that you find them interesting,

can you talk more about them?

Cuz I'm really interested in them but I've never really found anything that explained them in a comprehensive way besides oh it's a bug oh it's a terrain generation error,

Same thing goes for the bedrock farlands cuz one time when I was younger I messed around with commands a bit and accidentally teleported way too far and teleported all the way to the stripe lands not knowing what it was and after watching your video it made me realize that I had gotten stuck in an area similar to where you were in that one video being stuck in between the blocks!

Do you have any cool science/programming fun facts about the bedrock farlands?

(sorry if this is really long I'm just interested in the far lands and it kind of just clicked in my brain that you probably know a lot about it! Tldr: you seem to have a lot of knowledge on how Minecraft works on a more fundamental level than me and I want to learn more about the far lands and why/how they generate)

Oh gosh ahaha it's been years since I was super interested in the farlands so my knowledge is extremely spotty now but I can give you a rough outline. The Farlands generate at +-12550821 because in Minecraft each block is 171.1 big- so from one end of the map to the other you can only have [the 32 bit integer limit] / 171.1 which leaves you with approximately 25101642 blocks on any given axis. If you were to start in the centre of that, at 0,0, you could walk 12550821 blocks in either direction left or right before you ran out of space.

Also you need to know what the 32-bit integer limit means. It's basically the biggest number Minecraft could store. Like imagine you had 3 boxes and you could put one number in each box, the biggest number you could make would be 999. Minecraft had 32 boxes and understands numbers differently to how we do, so the biggest number it could make was the 32 bit integer limit. (Minecraft has 64 boxes nowadays)

Why do they look like that? Minecraft's terrain is dictated by randomly generated noise maps. Imagine you closed your eyes and scribbled with pencil on some paper. If that paper is the map of the world, the darkest parts of pencil would be the highest mountains on the map, lighter marks of pencil would be smaller hills, and plain white paper would be flat low down terrain. But when you go +-12550821 blocks out, the noise maps freaks out and returns NaN ("Not a number") since it literally cannot process numbers that big. The result is that terrain has infinite height, but it's capped at the world height limit of 128. As for why it stretches outward endlessly like that, I dunno ahaha. Probably for a very similar reason that it stretches up forever.

[kxttqi]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 .

s. gojo x f!reader ✧  fluff ; not proofread ahaha ; christmas special !

この 物語 で ⇢ he proposes to you on christmas eve .

soft moonlight gleams upon the snow-laden streets, blanketing them with a quiet stillness that only comes at the height of winter. each breath you take is visible in the cold december air, and your boots crunch lightly through the powdered frost beneath as you hurry to keep up. neon reds and greens reflect faintly off shop windows, a kaleidoscope of christmas lights blurring in your peripheral vision as the wind teases at your scarf. somewhere in the distance, the faint bell chime of a salvation army volunteer jingles like far-off sleigh bells, joining the distant hum of christmas songs spilling out of café doors and dim-lit storefronts.

"would you stop running off?" you whisper-yell, just as a puff of breath escapes your lips. satoru’s always like this — taller than anyone else, obliviously confident, and a streak of childlike mischief wrapped around an impenetrable core of too much power for one man to hold. his platinum hair is bright beneath the holiday lights, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat as he turns his head back toward you, grinning like a satisfied fox.

"i’m not running," he replies with a breezy shrug, placing extra emphasis on his long strides. “i’m leading. big difference.”

you mutter his name beneath your breath in semi-annoyance, and he slows down just enough for you to hobble at his side, cheeks flushed from exertion and the nip of the winter wind. he dips his head closer, amusement glittering unmistakably in those electric blue eyes of his, glowing even brighter than the string lights hanging up above.

“y’know, if your legs were just a little longer…” he starts, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you elbow him through his thick wool coat, immediately greeted with the unmistakable sound of his laughter, sharp and just a little too loud for this sleepy christmas eve. if it weren’t for the fact his face was sculpted like some modern michelangelo piece, you might have actually slugged him.

“i have the ticket home,” you remind him pointedly, fingers shoved into the warm depths of your coat pockets. “you really wanna miss our train back to tokyo? you’d sulk the whole ride tomorrow.”

“nah, i’m good,” he assures you, mock solemn as he ducks his head against another onslaught of wind. “in fact… this is me slowing down! such a considerate boyfriend, right?”

the streets have emptied; most people are home now, wrapped in blankets by crackling fires or sipping holiday drinks among friends and family. the two of you are outliers — wandering the quieter streets, half-aimless now. it’s not so cold that you mind. honestly, the world feels a little softer tonight, like every hard edge has been dulled beneath a layer of frost and good cheer.

"where are we even going, satoru?" you sigh finally, stopping in your tracks and crossing your arms against your chest. the streetlight above flickers faintly, casting warm golden hues against plates of unbroken snow and two long shadows stretching towards each other on the asphalt. it’s hard to look away from him — as always, he seems completely at home in the chaos he creates, dressed neatly but somehow slightly disheveled. snowflakes linger on his lashes, an annoying but endearing imperfection against the surreal sharpness of his face. it’s like he belongs to the winter itself, something untouchably beautiful yet cold enough to bite.

“wait,” you realize, groaning. “you don’t even have a plan, do you?”

satoru grins again, a little boyish now as he rubs the back of his neck. “do i ever?”

“you’re hopeless.”

“i do have… something in mind,” he insists, drawing out the pause dramatically. “c’mon, we’re almost there! well, sort of. we’re getting warmer.”

you squint at him suspiciously, but there’s only so much of that you can do when he’s peering at you like he knows all the world’s secrets, like he expects you to give up because he already knows how this scene is going to play out. you unfold your arms just to stuff your cold fingers deeper into the warmth of your coat. sighing, you follow him through the streets because you always do — no matter what antics gather like snowflakes around his heels, you’ve never been very good at walking away.

the city opens up after another stretch of blocks, the quiet streets falling into the sprawling expanse of frozen parks and the faint reflection of city skyscrapers off the inky black river just ahead. the snow by the riverbank crunches loud beneath your steps as the two of you veer slightly from the path, your breath hitching when you see the skyline faintly mirrored in the thin layer of ice atop the surface.

the stars, brighter here than in the heart of the city, twinkle faintly as orange and hazy blue lights stretch out row by row against the backdrop of the otherwise dark, glassy water.

“here we are,” satoru announces, raising his arms out like the proud ringmaster of an empty circus.

you glance around skeptically, brow raised.

“a frozen river in the middle of nowhere?”

“it’s called ambiance,” he corrects you with a playful tap to your nose. “you don’t get it.”

but then he’s pulling something from his pocket, his scarf slipping slightly as you watch him drop down to one knee. it's so unlike him to be still and steady like this, hands no longer performing flourished, over-the-top gestures. he looks up, the whiteness of snow alighting against his lashes and the tips of his impossibly pale hair. his gaze is raw now, utterly open, and the real weight of the moment presses itself against you like the chill in the wind. nothing about it feels real.

"i know," he starts, exhaling laughter out into the open air between you. it fogs up faintly, a fleeting blur of warmth in the barren cold. “it would make more sense to wait until christmas day, right? but it’s midnight somewhere, so technically…”

he’s babbling, you realize, watching the sheepish grin slowly tug at his lips — a rare thing for someone who prances through life as though he owns it.

“satoru,” you breathe, the waver in your voice making his grin deepen.

“i know,” he says again, this time softer. "but listen, you're kind of stuck with me, so i figured we should make it official."

your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and the moment he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket, your throat tightens. the ring shines faintly, reflecting flecks of orange the same way ice reflects firelight, but your eyes are on his face — on the steadiness of his words, of his gaze, of the unusual quiet awe there as he says your name and speaks plainly for once in his life.

"marry me," satoru says, light but not carelessly. "marry me so no one else can steal you away — as if they could — but, uh, let’s just make sure.” his words falter under the weight of a chuckle he doesn’t quite know what to do with, and despite the stillness of him, his fingers tighten over the box, like it might flutter away if he isn’t careful.

you feel your lungs collapse when you nod without speaking, your hands trembling slightly as you extend them towards him.

for once, satoru doesn’t bother to tease or gloat. he just blinks up at you, his smile gentler than you’ve ever seen it, and when he rises, smoothing the ring onto your trembling finger with the care he reserves for only the most fragile and precious things, you don’t bother hiding the bloom of tears against your cheeks.

he notices, of course. he always notices everything.

“crying already?” he murmurs, his voice soft but confident again, full of the easy dominance that makes satoru who he is. 

in place of a response, you loop your arms around his neck and feel the hum of his laughter in his chest before his hands find your waist. he pulls you just close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, somehow thawing away even the bitterest part of winter.

the world belongs to you two tonight, snow dancing gently all around as you kiss him, his fingers coming to rest on the back of your neck with the tenderness of a moth’s wings.

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Ngl, the last post about Fords grief and readers' resurrection involving bill. Had me thinking, and I know it's been a few minutes to an hour, but like, what if Ford built the reader back together like with bills help. Frankenstein ykkk

Anyway, kisses to the writer💋💋💋💋

wait... i like this one !!

tw: gore, body horror, unsettling imagery

Ford is a man of science before anything else. when he can’t fix something emotionally, he turns to intellect, to mechanics, to the physical work of repairing what’s broken. and when it comes to you, someone he loved deeply, someone he lost so suddenly, he cannot accept that you are gone, Ford refuses to. that’s not how he works. problems have solutions. everything is fixable.

it always starts with a very bad deal. a deal Ford once swore he’d never make again, but grief makes fools of us all.

“oh, sixer, my old pal, u know i love a good science experiment! you and me, back in the lab, building a whole new body for your dearly departed? talk about a fun little project!”

Ford hates him, he grits his teeth and tries to keep his face calm, he hates him with every cell in his body. but he hates this emptiness more. so he doesn’t protest and doesn't argue. just tightens his jaw and listens.

because there’s a way, Bill says. there’s always a way. but a body doesn’t just come from nowhere. a body needs parts.

and Ford has never been squeamish.

a sticky, congealing blood between his long fingers, crusting beneath his dirty nails. Ford doesn’t mind, he barely notices. there is so much to do, so much work.

it starts with the bones.

you were gone too long for preservation. what was left was ruined, unfit, wrong. so Ford makes new ones. it takes weeks of scavenging, collecting and constructing. some are yours, some are not. some are carved by his own hands, whittled down into the exact shape they should be.

Ford does not let himself think about where the others came from. he doesn't want to ask Bill, because Bill talks too much and says very dumb, not funny jokes.

"y’know, i gotta hand it to ya, sixer, most people don’t literally build their dream partner! or, uh— rebuild! ahaha!"

Stanford works by lamplight, shaping the ribs with the precision of a mad sculptor, measuring the length of your femurs against the sketches he’s made in his notes. he has so many notes. . . pages and pages of you, blueprints of who you were. what makes a person? what makes a mind? how does one recreate the intangible?

“trying to make them better this time, huh? aw, don’t look so guilty, i think the new jawline is an improvement!”

muscles next, Ford knows. sinew and tendon and ligaments pulled taut, stretched over frame, sewn and stitched. his hands are always slick, stinking, reeking of blood and chemicals and whatever this is that he’s doing. but he keeps talking to you. he doesn’t even notice when he starts.

“rhis will hold. ive reinforced the fibers, should be stronger than before. . . don’t worry, dear, i’ll be careful, i won’t hurt you.” you are not there. but he speaks as though you are, because it’s easier that way. “i love you”

“c’mon, doc, ya barely even flinched that time! i’d say you’re gettin’ used to this, but,” Bill leans in. “we both know you’ve always had a knack for butchery.”

Ford does not respond.

the limbs are harder. muscle grafts, nerve splicing, making sure the hands will still be warm when they hold his own. Ford works tirelessly. he stops counting the hours.

he talks to you while he works. “you always hated the cold,” he says, securing the connective tissue in your fingers. “i’ll make sure your circulation is strong, my love.“

and the face. the face is the worst, because it has to be perfect. it has to be you, it has to be right. so when the first few attempts aren’t, when the eyes are wrong, when the skin sags, when the expression is empty, he rips it apart and starts again.

“oooh, this is beautiful,” Bill coos. “y’know, i never took you for the sentimental type, IQ! you’re really putting your heart into this one!”

Ford does not respond, his hands and gloves are covered in blood and trembling, but he does not stop. because this is what he wanted. you are here. in pieces, yes, but pieces can be put back together.

skin is the hardest part.

it took him so long to get the consistency right. synthetic materials failed. grafts failed. he had to learn. he had to practice. but the color is still wrong, waxy, veins mapping out too blue beneath the surface. Ford swears under his breath. fucking shit. he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, watches the way the flesh gives. too soft, too artificial.

Ford does not cry, not when the stitches split. not when the first attempt collapses in on itself. not when your new skin sloughs off in sickly, wet ribbons and he has to start over again

but at some point, careful becomes desperate. methodical becomes messy. you are not coming together right

Ford's hands shake, he is muttering again. something is missing, something is wrong. your skin won’t knit properly, your chest cavity won’t close, your spine— your spine won’t—

Bill floats beside him. “what’s the problem, doc? run outta parts?”

Ford’s breath is too fast, his fingers twitch, vision blurry, but whether it’s from exhaustion or the copper stink of the lab, he doesn’t know.

“i—“ he chokes on the words. “i just need more.”

“say the word, Fordsy.”

“please, Bill, please.” when Ford blinks, there is more on the table.

Bill watches and laughs. “y’know, i’ve seen a lotta desperate guys do a lotta desperate things, but this? wowza! this one takes the cake! and you didn’t even ask what the price was!”

Ford’s hands tremble as he reattaches your arm for the third time.

"you think they'll want this, sixer? think they'll wanna wake up like this?”

Ford doesn’t answer. he keeps working.

it is days before he is done, Ford doesnt know what day it is, what month, what year. time exists only in the number of stitches, the weight of the scalpel, the way your stitched, reconstructed body lies motionless on the table.

you look like you. almost. almost.

Bill is staring at you. for once, he is not laughing.

“so, you want me to fire up the ol’ brain-box or what?”

Ford swallows. his throat is raw, lips cracked from dehydration, huge dark eye bags under his tired eyes. he just nods slowly.

Bill snaps his fingers. “one mind, comin’ riiiiight up!”

Ford is too desperate so he immediately reaches for your hand, for the warmth that should be there. the proof that this was the right choice, that he did not just ruin you. your fingers curl around his, but they are too strong in their grip. your eyes are unfocused, glassy

something is wrong.

[tealvenetianmask]

If You Act Like You Don't Need Support, People Believe You: Blitz's "Bulletproof" Act

We know pretty well by now how Blitz's outer shell looks and why he built it. He's carrying a whole cargo load of trauma, and he doesn't want to get hurt anymore. So he puts his natural resilience and charisma front and center and channels all negative emotions into being an asshole. No one gets in.

I think we often fall into seeing Blitz's mask as all negative. But one thing I took away from Ghostfuckers though is how much the people in his life actually find security and comfort in that same shell.

Millie:

Based on her backstory, who can blame her? The final sign that made Millie trust/respect Blitz enough to agree to his job offer?

I can blame this partly on imp culture (valuing toughness), but also, Millie says "you're fucking weird," and I think that comes down to how Blitz doesn't look angry or scared even for a moment. He keeps the smile. The charm. "Unbothered."

When M&M give each other most of their attention (understandable), Blitz just pushes his way past their boundaries anyway, seeming to make a game out of it. We see in Ghostfuckers that his jealousy of M&M, his fear that they don't really care for him . . . that becomes part of his trauma reel. But his friends have no way of knowing that.

When he's on a solo mission in Wee-a-boo-boo, Blitz tells Millie in no uncertain terms that he's got this.

So yeah, Millie's truly never seen him SERIOUSLY upset before, even if WE'VE seen him screaming into the abyss (Truth Seekers) and crying himself to sleep (Ozzie's).

Luckily, Millie has the capacity to adjust and offer the support that Blitz needs.

Loona:

I think Loona gets comfort too from Blitz's outer shell. This time, it's not so much that Blitz never shows her that his feelings are hurt. But that he bounces back quickly. That he always ends up fine.

And at an even farther extreme, Loona can literally throw Blitz across the room and have him doting on her again later that day.

There's comfort, especially when you're someone with a temper, in knowing that there's someone who you can't really hurt, who will stick by you no matter how you behave.

But again, in the Ghostfuckers trauma reel, we get a clip that shows us that's not true either.

Like Millie, when Loona sees Blitz at a true emotional low (this time, his guard is lowered by alcohol . . . and perceived rejection from Stolas), she's able to adjust and be supportive.

Stolas:

Was fairly careless with Blitz's emotions in Season 1, until he saw some vulnerability in Ozzie's and immediately started rethinking his approach.

We often talk about Blitz not realizing that Stolas is vulnerable, but the opposite is also true.

I'm thinking about the flirtatious classism, the teasing, the initial idea that the book deal would be fun and sexy. I think it stems, at least in part, from the idea that Blitz is amazing, that his spirit is kind of unbreakable.

Which again, is not true. His optimism and resilience are wonderful, but he can be hurt (intentional reference to Blitz realizing the same about Stolas).

After the debacle that is Ozzie's, after Stolas sees Blitz in pain from the treatment he received and unable to believe that Stolas's romantic interest in him is genuine, he understands much more. He immediately starts trying to undo the deal, and later in that process, there's this beautiful line . . .

"It's not enough to get through the walls you've conjured up to live."

Stolas isn't there yet by any stretch, in terms of understanding Blitz fully, but even while hurt, there's a part of him that wants to understand, that knows that Blitz is hurting under his mask.

Moxxie:

Ahaha. I bet you thought Stolas would be the twist ending of this meta. NOPE. It's Moxxie. He's the only person close to Blitz who hasn't even begun to adjust to seeing Blitz be vulnerable yet.

Not to psychoanalyze the poor guy, but. His daddy issues are off the fucking charts. Not in a sexual way (though who knows). In a sad way.

Moxxie was raised to follow authority, and the consequence for not doing so was death. Crimson made it very clear. And that's horrible, obviously, but also, there's a certain level of comfort in having everything decided for you.

In having someone who's "got this" in charge. Cult survivors often recall feeling this way.

And I'm not saying Moxxie wasn't incredibly relieved to be rid of Crimson or that he was happy under his control in any way.

But he likes that Blitz is confident, unbothered, and takes care of his team.

I'm done looking for exact lines and screenshots because I have a dinner to get to, but Moxxie does ask in his Truth Seekers hallucination why Blitz pushes his friends away. But he never gets a clear answer, never sees beyond the symbolic mask that Blitz wears there.

And in Unhappy Campers and in Ghostfuckers, we really see him crumble without Blitz's confident leadership. Millie, letting Moxxie take charge and having her own needs that have to be met . . . isn't really enough.

And this is a problem.

Moxx needs to learn some confidence because the unshakeable Blitz he follows . . . doesn't really exist. So I'm interested in seeing how this develops in upcoming seasons.

[simpxxstan]

omg the “who in svt like tits” ate so now i need an ass version!!!

18+ nsfw MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

again i definitely think they all like ass a lot because they're just boys (smh smh). but i had fun writing this lmaooo my headcanons are total crack LOL also i'm glad you enjoyed the tits version ahaha you've validated my wild thoughts

seungcheol

so very enthusiastic. non-sexually, i think his favourite part of your body. loves it when you wear clothes that hug to your ass- will take you to the nearest bathroom or private place or even his goddamn car for a quickie because it arouses him to no extent. also LOVES spanking. outside sex, his spanks are gentle. but during sex, oh man. lord save you from him leaving marks all over your ass.

jeonghan

not overly enthusiastic about your butt during sex. but will tease you a lot with it all the time outside of sexy time. like when he casually spanks you in front of the other svt members. he will not leave a single chance to get his hands on your butt- if you bend down, he will slap it. if you hug him, he pulls you closer not using your hips but using your ass. and if you're wearing jeans, one of his hands will permanently be in your back pocket.

joshua

might go a little crazy every time he feels how soft your ass is in his large hands. will squeeze and squish while cuddling because he loves the soft flesh moulding in his hands. he won't spank you during sex, instead opting to bite hickeys into your butt cheeks.

jun

ohhhh he likes your ass too, but SO shy about it. reserved initially- only touching it when making out, or when he's cuddling you. but it gets more freaky with time. for example, now he will exclusively lie down on his back while making you lie down on your stomach, and will hug your ass like a body pillow. also a fan of leaving hickeys on your pretty ass cheeks.

soonyoung

addicted doesn't even cut it, and you know it too. so you tease him fully about it as well. like that time you stripped for him and gave him a lap dance, flaunting your butt for him (he came in his boxers). or that one time you wore a chain around your waist that let little shiny things dangle around your bare ass (he went feral after that). or pretty much every time he takes off your pants and sees you wearing a thong that's exposing your butt cheeks to him completely. will not leave the flesh unmarked that night.

wonwoo

thinks he's so discreet about it, but is actually SO OBSESSED with your ass. will touch it all the damn time. 100% the type to put his hand up your dress or skirt and get hard instantly as he feels the soft skin of your ass instead of protective shorts. loves fucking you in the car in reverse cowgirl- somehow the smaller space makes your ass more glorious in his eyes and he bounces you like crazy. he has polaroids of your lingerie-clad ass covered in hickeys that he sees on lonely nights when you're away from him.

woozi

loves loves loves your ass. will ask you to cockwarm him while he works in the studio (this is canon, i think, at this point) just so he can stretch his hands on your ass after they get tired from typing for a long time. his obsession with your ass becomes amply evident when he's working out with you. he's so shy because he's thinking a pervert- but one innuendo filled reply from you and he knows you want it too. so he doesn't stop himself and goes ahead and gropes your beautiful ass through your tights, as you squat for him.

dokyeom

oh boy. drools whenever he sees your ass. loves all your curves, but whenever you brush the swell of his curve against his body (unconsciously or not), he will get hard instantly, and hold you in place to rub against you like he's going feral. also a big fan of lap dances where you handcuff him and edge him as you dance for him and make his eyes roll back.

mingyu

this puppy is ALSO a fan of lap dances. but prefers when he can lay you over his lap and finger you and spank you at the same time. buys you panties that say cringe lines like "spank me daddy" only to cum in his pants before his hand can touch your butt cheeks. whenever you're making out, he will grab your ass and you both end up grinding against each other. he'll slip his hands under your skirt and grab your ass to help you grind against him faster, until you're both moaning and panting as you reach your highs.

minghao

doesn't get the hype about butts until he sees yours. even then, he's not too wild about it. he prefers facing you during sex, so any time you're facing away from him isn't a great time on his metrics. the only time he's good with it is when he's fucking you against a wall, your dress lifted up so that he can fuck into you without a fuss, a quickie when you're outside home. non-sexually, he loves to feel the softness of your butt, the way it moulds to his hands and how perfectly shaped it is.

seungkwan

UTTERLY, COMPLETELY OBSESSED. he will 100% compare sizes. but he's so smitted with your butt, he LOVES to touch it when you're cuddling (which is a lot). i think he's not too freaky in sex, but his mind is BLOWN when you sit on his face, and he grabs your ass as you ride him for hours. he will make out with your pussy as you lie on the bed, ass up, so that he can spread open your ass cheeks as he fucks his tongue into you. i also think he's definitely going to convince you to try anal at least once... and if you happen to like it, he's going to buy so many crystal plugs for you (which you're going to now use on him too LOL not that he minds).

vernon

quite pathetic how attached he is to your butt. does not understand when is time and when's not a good time to grope your butt (but he's started reading cues now). loves when you sit on his lap, even non-sexually. the plush feeling on your butt on his thighs, especially when you're wearing skirts or shorts, gets him feeling so warm and cuddly. in bed, he loves to fuck you in doggy style. there's just something about being able to finish on your ass that gets his spent dick hard again.

chan

another person who'll compare sizes. will ask you to dance with him, but when you do a provocative or remotely sexy step, say swirling your hips or twerking, he's fucked (will take you against the practice room mirror, eyes trained on your ass). another speciment of this- when you work out with him and you innocently ask him to help you get the correct posture during squat and downward dog, he will rub his dick into your butt cheeks to tell you he's getting horny as fuck.