#so the skin poll is like. alternates to this.

[terra-tortoise]

marmairo, the spotlight. fueled by a fragment of the sun itself, carved by chisel and blessed by tian.

[mononijikayu]

a day in a life — ryomen sukuna.

You set Yuji down, and he immediately takes your hand in his tiny one, his other hand reaching out to grab Sukuna's sleeve, tugging at him. "Uncle Sukuna, come on!" Sukuna grunts, letting Yuji pull him along, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and reluctant affection. “Alright, alright, brat….I’m coming.” he says, trying to sound grumpy but failing spectacularly. You smile at the sight of them together and take Sukuna's other hand. "Looks like we're both in for an adventure, aren’t you?" you whisper.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: safe for work (sfw), fluff, family, slice of life, family dynamic, light hearted, domestic, romance, protectiveness, crying, hugging, banter, humour, physical touch, happy ending, hurt/comfort, depictions of family dynamic, depiction of getting lost, depiction of anxiety, depiction of slice of life, menction of amnesia, boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji, i love you nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 6.4k words

NOTE: the people have spoken and ryomen sukuna won my poll (again) so this is a special treat for yall!!! this is the aftermath of amnesia and reader and sukuna got back together. this is maybe a year or so to them getting back together. yuji loves his auntie!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy it. i had a lovely time writing it because this is what we deserved from gege!!! i love you all!!! thank you for your continued love <3

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── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

IT WAS YOUR DAY OFF. And that was something you and Sukuna had agreed about in the early dawn of your relationship together. You wanted to get to know this man you fell in love with, and many years had passed since you both even got together after your amnesia. One of those days was today. With no work obligations today and Sukuna taking a break from managing his gym, the two of you had indulged in a much-needed cozy day. 

A lot of things would change. So, Ryomen Sukuna stepped up to the plate and took some time off to just have days to cherish your time together. 

Everything had been blissfully quiet, a rarity for both you and Sukuna. Like always on these days, you’d spent the morning wrapped in a warm blanket together, watching a movie you both had half-paid attention to, more engrossed in each other’s company than the plot unfolding on screen.

Ryomen Sukuna had his arm draped around your shoulders, his fingers lazily drawing patterns against your skin. Your boyfriend doesn’t sleep that much, but when he’s in his lazy days with you — he makes an effort to rest. You worry a lot for him, after all. And he doesn’t want to add more to those worries. Begrudgingly he does it, but it makes you happy. 

He expected to spend the day with you like this all day. And Sukuna was happy with that. He likes having time with you like this, just embracing each other’s warmth and talking over the bad television shows and ordering in if you don’t feel like getting up and making a meal together.

Life was great. This was his day in a life. Sukuna had dreamed of it for years since you parted. And now that you’re together again, it just all fell into place. Nothing could be better than this. And he adores it. 

But then Sukuna's phone rang, and you watched as his expression shifted from contentment to annoyance. He sighed, glancing at the caller ID — his twin brother, Itadori Jin. You looked at him curiously as he sighed.

Reluctantly, Sukuna answered, his voice gruff. "What’s up?"

You could only hear Jin’s voice faintly on the other end, speaking quickly. Sukuna’s face darkened as Jin explained the situation — some emergency at work that demanded his immediate attention.

Because of this, Kaori, Jin's wife, would have to go and pick up their eldest son Choso alone for vacation. They didn’t wanna agitate with a long drive, since Yuji is still a little boy. And with no one else to watch over their young son, Itadori Jin was left with only one option.

Ryomen Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. You could almost hear his internal mantra: ‘Don’t say it, don’t say it…’

But Jin, with his usual charm and desperation, finally got to the point. “Look, can you just babysit Yuji for a couple of days until we’re back? We don’t have anyone else.”

Sukuna opened his mouth, ready to protest, but before he could even get a word out, you grinned and cut in. "Oh, we'd love to! Right, Sukuna?"

Sukuna shot you a glare that was more pout than anything else. He looked betrayed, as if you had just handed him the world’s most inconvenient challenge. You couldn't help but bit your lip, trying to stop your laughter. He's always like this when it comes to his nephew. He likes to pretend that he doesn't like him and yet, he does. A lot.

For a moment, you think he was almost like a kitten who found his owner’s antics unpleasant. You felt the tension in his arm, the muscles flexing in silent rebellion. He’d been so ready to complain, to give a flat ‘no’ but your enthusiasm left him no room to argue.

Jin laughed on the other end. “Great! Thank you, sister in law! We’ll drop him off in an hour.”

As the call ended, Sukuna tossed his phone onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as if he’d just endured a great ordeal. “Really?” he muttered, a sulky undertone in his voice. "You had to say yes?"

You laughed softly and nudged him with your elbow. "Oh, come on, baby. It'll be fun! Besides, Yuji is adorable. Don't you think so?"

Sukuna opened one eye, giving you a side-eyed glance. "He’s a menace, that brat." he grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "A little gremlin in disguise."

You leaned closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. "And I think you secretly like him." you teased.

He snorted, though his arm tightened around you instinctively. "Yeah, well, I like my peace and quiet more. ‘specially since I get my fill of you."

You blushed at his words. For a moment, you could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady and strong, and you knew he would complain, sulk, and groan about this for the next hour.

But you also knew, without a doubt, that he’d be the one sneaking Yuji cookies before dinner, making silly faces just to hear him giggle, and pretending to be indifferent even as he kept a protective eye on the kid. After all, he loved his little nephew. Even if he doesn’t say it out loud.

“Fine." Sukuna grumbled finally, his voice resigned but affectionate. "But don’t blame me if he decides to climb the walls or something.”

You smiled, planting a soft kiss on his jaw. "Deal." 

Sukuna’s sigh was heavy, dramatic, but there was no mistaking the way he leaned into your touch, accepting his fate with a grumpy fondness that only made you love him more.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

day one

IN NO TIME, YOU WERE ALREADY PARKING. You watched as your boyfriend carefully looked at the space as he parks with precision. You liked being in the Itadori household. Somehow, you just felt the warmth of bing alive here. They treated you like family even when you and Sukuna haven't even married. And today was no different.

When you and Sukuna arrive at Jin and Kaori’s house, you could just feel how the sun shines brightly as you pull up to the driveway. Itadori Yuji is already waiting outside, a tiny bundle of energy with his little red backpack on, his face lighting up the moment he sees you. You barely have time to get out of the car before Yuji bolts over, throwing himself at you with an enthusiastic hug that nearly knocks you back.

“Auntie!” he squeals, wrapping his small arms around your legs.

Your heart melts instantly. "Hey, Yuji!" you greet him, scooping him up effortlessly and spinning him around in a playful circle. "I’ve missed you, little guy!"

Yuji giggles, clutching onto you tighter, his face buried in your shoulder. Over your shoulder, you see Sukuna standing by the car, arms crossed, his mouth set in a grumpy line. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the simmering annoyance rolling off him in waves.

You shoot him a playful smile. "Look, baby!" you tease. "He's already so attached!"

Sukuna rolls his eyes, but there’s no real malice in his expression. “Yeah, yeah.” he grumbles, though his lips twitch like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Don't spoil him too much.”

You grin and bounce Yuji in your arms, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "How could I not? He's too cute. So precious too!”

Yuji beams up at you, clearly enjoying the attention. "Auntie, can we go to the playground?" he asks excitedly, his eyes wide and hopeful.

You look at him, amused. "Of course, we can, buddy! What do you want to do at the playground?"

Yuji's face lights up even more, if that was possible. "I wanna see my best friends! Nobara and Megumi! They’ll be there like usual!" he declares with all the seriousness a toddler can muster.

Sukuna lets out a low groan from behind you. “Great.” he mutters sarcastically. “Not only do we have to babysit the brat, but now we’re running a daycare service.”

You glance over at him with a laugh. "Come on, it'll be fun! Besides, it'll be nice to meet his little friends."

Sukuna sighs dramatically, but you catch the way his gaze softens just a fraction when he looks at Yuji. You know he would never admit it, but he has a soft spot for his nephew, even if he won’t say it out loud.

You set Yuji down, and he immediately takes your hand in his tiny one, his other hand reaching out to grab Sukuna's sleeve, tugging at him. "Uncle Sukuna, come on!"

Sukuna grunts, letting Yuji pull him along, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and reluctant affection. “Alright, alright, brat….I’m coming.” he says, trying to sound grumpy but failing spectacularly.

You smile at the sight of them together and take Sukuna's other hand. "Looks like we're both in for an adventure, aren’t you?" you whisper.

Sukuna shoots you a look, but the corner of his mouth quirks up just slightly. "Yeah, sure. An adventure." he mutters, but you see the way his grip tightens around your hand.

Yuji swings between you two, his laughter bright and infectious as you make your way to the playground, where a day full of play, giggles, and unexpected joy awaits. You can’t help but think that he’s the purest thing in life.

The neighborhood playground is a colorful blur of swings, slides, and a few scattered benches where parents and caregivers chat while keeping an eye on their kids. You could pick up the sound of laughter filling the air from afar, and Yuji’s excitement is palpable as he practically vibrates with energy between you and Sukuna. He seems to love this place.

“Where are they?” Yuji asks, his head swiveling in every direction with tenderness, searching for his friends. “Where’s Nobara? Where’s Megumi?”

You crouch down to his level, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon, Yuji. Do you want to try the swings while we wait?”

Yuji nods eagerly. “Yes! Push me, Auntie!” He drags you over to the swings, his little legs moving as fast as they can. Sukuna trails behind, hands shoved into his pockets, doing his best to appear indifferent. But you catch him watching Yuji with a faint smile on his face when he thinks you aren’t looking.

You carefully lift Yuji into the swing, securing him before giving him a gentle push. Soon enough, his little fits of laughter fills the air, bright and pure, as he kicks his legs back and forth, asking for “Higher, higher!”

Sukuna leans against the swing set's metal frame, observing the scene with a mix of amusement and begrudging fondness. "Careful, babe." he warns, though his tone lacks any real bite. "Don't launch him into orbit."

You laugh softly. "Come on, he's having fun!" You give Yuji another push, his giggles ringing out as he soars through the air. "See, Sukuna? This is what a good day looks like."

Sukuna grunts, but there’s no hiding the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Sure, sure. I’ll take your word for it.”

Just then, a small voice calls out from behind you, full of excitement. “Yuji!”

You turn to see a little girl with a red bow in her hair running over, a boy with dark, serious eyes following at a more measured pace. Yuji’s face lights up even brighter. “Nobara! Megumi!” he shouts, waving his arms enthusiastically.

Nobara reaches you first, hands on her hips and a bright grin on her face. “Hey, Yuji! Hi!” She waves up at you, her bright grin was confident and charming. "Are you Yuji's auntie?"

You nod, charmed by her boldness. "I am! It's nice to meet you, Nobara. And you must be Megumi?" you say, looking over at the quiet boy who stands just a bit behind Nobara.

Megumi nods, his expression serious. “Hi.” he says quietly, his gaze shifting between you and Sukuna, assessing. He seemed like a weary kid, but you don’t blame him. 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You two Yuji’s bodyguards or something?” he teases.

Nobara puffs out her chest, clearly taking it as an offense. “Huh?!  No we’re not! We’re his best friends!” she declares proudly. Megumi gives a small nod as he hides that almost imperceptible smile at her confidence. 

“Tch, brat—”

“That’s great!” You grinned at her. “Thank you for taking care of Yuji!”

Yuji hops off the swing, rushing over to grab his friends’ hands. “Let’s play!” he shouts, already pulling them toward the jungle gym.

You stand beside Sukuna, watching them run off with a fond smile. “See? Isn’t this nice?”

Sukuna grunts, though there’s no mistaking the soft expression on his face as he watches Yuji. “Yeah, yeah… maybe.” he mutters. “As long as nobody starts crying. Or falling and then crying.”

You laugh and nudge him playfully with your elbow. “Just admit it, you’re having a good time.”

He finally relents, sighing dramatically. “Fine, maybe it’s not that bad.” He turns his head slightly to look at you, a glint of affection in his eyes. “But only because you’re here.”

You feel a warm flutter in your chest at his words and lean closer, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “That’s the spirit, baby.” you tease softly.

As you both stand there, watching Yuji play with his friends, you feel a sense of contentment settle over you. It’s simple, this moment, but somehow perfect in its simplicity — surrounded by laughter, sun, and Sukuna’s reluctant but undeniable fondness for his nephew. And you were enjoying it all. Taking it all as it is. It was the perfect day.

Suddenly, Yuji runs back over, out of breath but beaming. “Auntie, Uncle! Can you come play too?” he asks, tugging at both of your hands with his small ones.

You glance at Sukuna, who looks momentarily caught off guard. But then, with a sigh and a half-smile, he bends down, ruffling Yuji's hair. “Alright, brat.” he says, his voice mock-gruff. “What do you want us to do?”

Yuji's eyes shine with excitement. "You can be the monsters, and we'll be the heroes!"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm a monster now?" he grumbles, but you can tell he's already warming up to the idea.

You laugh, taking Yuji’s hand. “Okay, monsters it is. But you better run fast, heroes!”

With that, Yuji squeals in delight, dragging his friends back to the jungle gym as you and Sukuna pretend to chase after them. Sukuna might act like he’s reluctant, but you catch the way he’s smiling, truly smiling, and your heart feels impossibly full.

For now, there’s no place else you’d rather be. And you meant it.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

day two

THE EXHAUSTION FROM YESTERDAY DIDN’T PREVENT YUJI FROM WANTING TO ENJOY TODAY. When the next day dawns with bright and clear skies, you could only think that it was the perfect weather for a trip to the zoo. Itadori Yuji was up early, bouncing with excitement, and his enthusiasm quickly became infectious. 

Even your boyfriend, who had initially grumbled about being dragged to a “smelly zoo” eventually caved in to his nephew Yuji’s pleas — especially after you flashed him a knowing smile and those eyes, reminding him how much this meant to his nephew. He couldn't deny you, no matter how much he tried. He grumbled loudly about it before finally saying yes. But you knew just as much that he was enjoying himself. 

You haven’t been in a zoo in a very long time, that much you could be honest about. Sukuna doesn’t seem to care for it either growing up. But you think that this was going to be great for Yuji. He adored animals. Even just seeing them on the television makes him happy and curious. It was his first time going and seeing animals like this, up close. And you just know that it would be such a great time for him.

As soon as you arrive, Yuji is practically vibrating with energy. He tugs at your hand and points at the map, his little face glowing with excitement. “Auntie, Uncle, can we see the lions first? And then the penguins! Oh, and the monkeys too!” he babbles, his words tumbling over each other in his eagerness.

You nod with a smile. “Of course, Yuji. We have all day to see everything!”

Sukuna shakes his head, hiding a grin. “Just try not to run off, brat.” he warns, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “We don’t want to be chasing after you like yesterday at the playground.”

Yuji beams up at him. “Okay, Uncle Sukuna! I’ll stay with you!”

You spend the morning moving from one exhibit to another, enjoying the wonder in Yuji’s eyes as he watches the animals with wide-eyed fascination. He claps excitedly at the lions, laughs at the playful monkeys, and insists on mimicking the penguins’ waddles, much to your amusement and Sukuna’s reluctant chuckles.

You take plenty of photos, capturing the joy on Yuji’s face and even getting a rare shot of Sukuna smiling genuinely, one arm slung casually around your shoulders as he watches Yuji with a fond, if exasperated, expression. You think that you’ll have fun looking through it and printing it out for the photo albums. You were sure Kaori and Jin would love to have some copies too.

By lunchtime, you settle down at a picnic table near the petting zoo area. You hand Yuji a juice box, and he takes it eagerly, swinging his legs and chattering non-stop about the animals he’s seen and what he wants to see next. You all carefully eat your lunches and just let the food settle down for a little while. Sukuna sat beside you, drinking a big glass of cola to try and cool off the heat.

“Auntie, Uncle, can we see the elephants next?” Yuji asks between sips, his face flushed with excitement.

You nod. “Absolutely. After we finish lunch, we’ll head over there.”

“That's on the other side of the zoo.” Sukuna points out to you.

You looked at your boyfriend with a small smile. “And guess what? We’re still going!”

Yuji grins and quickly finishes his juice, already standing up and tugging at your arm. “Okay, let’s go now!”

You laugh softly, but Sukuna gently pulls him back to the table. “Hey, slow down, kid. Let us finish our food first.”

Yuji pouts for a moment but eventually nods, bouncing on his toes while he waits. A few moments pass, and you’re almost done with your meal when a family nearby starts laughing loudly, drawing Yuji’s attention. Curious, he takes a few steps toward them, his bright almond eyes wide with interest.

“Yuji, stay close to us.” you remind him, keeping an eye on him as he moves closer to see what’s happening.

But as you turn to answer a question from Sukuna, just for a second, when you look back, Yuji is gone. Your heart drops to your stomach as your eyes open widely, your mouth shaking as you try to speak. You suddenly couldn’t speak and fright started to get to you.

“Yuji?” you call out, your voice a bit louder now, scanning the area. Panic begins to creep into your chest.

Your boyfriend Sukuna immediately stands up, his expression shifting from relaxed to alert in an instant. You can tell by the look in his eyes. He was just as panicked. 

“Where’d he go?” he asks, his voice tight with concern.

You feel a knot forming in your stomach as you look around frantically. “He was just here, babe…i just….”

Sukuna curses under his breath, his eyes scanning the crowded area with growing urgency. “Yuji!” he calls out, louder this time, his voice cutting through the chatter of the crowd.

You quickly weave through the nearby groups of people, calling Yuji's name, your heart racing. You could feel the knot of guilt in you. Your mind started to race with many thoughts. You could have looked after him better, you could have been more vigilant. You were the adult. How could you let this happen? Sukuna is right behind you, his hand protectively on your back as you search, his expression darkening with worry.

“He couldn't have gone far, babe.” you say, trying to keep the panic from your voice. “He’s probably just wandered off… right?”

Sukuna clenches his jaw, a determined look crossing his face. “Yeah, but we need to find him now.” he says firmly.

You both decided to split up, checking around the petting zoo and nearby exhibits. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and a dozen scenarios flash through your mind. But you push them aside, focusing on finding Yuji.

Minutes feel like hours as you weave through the crowds, your desperate voice growing hoarse from calling his name. Just as your heart is about to leap into full-blown panic, you hear a familiar, small voice.

“Auntie?”

You turn sharply and spot Itadori Yuji standing a few feet away, holding the hand of a zookeeper. Relief floods over you as you rush over, immediately dropping to your knees and wrapping your arms around him. You could feel like you were going to burst into tears just holding him like this. You were relieved. He was here. He was safe. He’s okay. You thank the gods above.

“Yuji! Thank goodness, you’re okay!” you say, your voice trembling with relief.

Yuji looks up at you with wide eyes, his lower lip trembling. “I’m sorry, Auntie. I just wanted to see the elephants…”

You hug him tighter, feeling your boyfriend’s presence beside you as he drops down to Yuji’s level, his expression stern but his eyes soft. He must have seen you both and ran over here as quickly as he could. He purses his lips int a tight line as he observed his nephew for injuries or bruises and even cuts.

“Brat, you scared us.” Sukuna says, ruffling Yuji’s hair more gently this time. “You have to stay close, got it? Don’t do that again.”

Yuji nods, tears brimming in his bright big eyes. “I’m sorry, Uncle Sukuna… I didn’t mean to…”

Sukuna’s expression softens completely, and he sighs, pulling Yuji into a hug. “Yeah, yeah, it’s okay, brat.” he mutters, his voice a little rough. “‘s not your fault, okay? Just….hold my hand next time.”

Yuji nods against his shoulder, and you reach over, brushing a tear from his cheek. “Come on, let’s go see those elephants, hmm? Together this time,” you say softly.

Yuji sniffles but nods, and you stand up, taking his hand. Sukuna rises too, keeping a protective arm around you both. “Yeah, together.” he agrees, his tone firm but warm.

You thank the zookeeper and solemnly leave, with Sukuna carrying Yuji in his arms still trying to comfort him. Your boyfriend pat his nephew’s back, stroking it over and over to comfort him. It broke your heart that Yuji was upset. But he was here. And he’ll be okay. That’s all that mattered to you. You knew just as much that Sukuna was the same.

The three of you head toward the elephant exhibit, Yuji keeps close between the two of you, his little hand gripping yours tightly, and Sukuna’s hand resting on his shoulder. Despite the scare, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, knowing that as long as you’re all together, everything will be alright. 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

day three

THE SLEEP WAS ROUGH LAST NIGHT. You didn’t want to let go of Yuji in your sleep. He had ended up not wanting to leave your bed last night and slept with you and Sukuna in your bedroom. He still was anxious from being lost, you can’t help but think. And you don’t really blame him for it. Sukuna didn’t utter a word and just let it be, wrapping the covers on your bodies and went to close the night light.

Come morning, you wake up to the sound of muffled clinking and clattering coming from the kitchen. You couldn’t help but blink your eyes open, the early light filtering through the curtains. Beside you, Sukuna stirs, frowning slightly at the noise. 

“What’s that racket?” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

You sit up, listening closely. The noise continues — the unmistakable sound of plates and silverware being moved around, a chair being dragged across the floor. You glance at Sukuna, a smile tugging at your lips. “Sounds like our little guest is up to something.”

Sukuna narrows his eyes suspiciously. “That brat better not be doing anything dangerous in there.” he mutters, though there’s no real heat in his voice.

You both get out of bed and quietly make your way to the kitchen, peeking around the corner. There, in the middle of the kitchen, stands Yuji, a determined expression on his face as he tries to balance on a chair he's pushed against the counter.

His small hands are busy spreading a thick, uneven layer of butter on a piece of bread, followed by an enthusiastic dollop of jam. Nearby, a bowl of cereal overflows with milk, and a few spilled Cheerios are scattered across the counter.

Yuji mutters to himself under his breath, clearly focused on his task. “Okay, okay… just a little more…” He tips the milk carton a bit too far, and more milk splashes onto the counter. He gasps softly but quickly goes back to his sandwich-making, a look of concentration on his face.

You can’t help but smile, and Sukuna, despite his earlier grumbling, looks a bit amused too. “What’s he doing?” Sukuna whispers, leaning closer to you.

“I think… he’s making us breakfast, babe.” you whisper back, feeling your heart melt a little.

Before you can say anything, Yuji notices you both standing there. His eyes widen in surprise, but then he beams, his face lighting up with pride.

“Auntie! Uncle Sukuna!” he exclaims. “Good morning! I… I made you breakfast!” He gestures to the chaotic spread on the counter, looking so proud of himself that you can’t help but feel a swell of affection.

You step forward, giving him a warm smile. “Wow, Yuji! This looks… delicious!” you say, trying to sound as genuine as possible while suppressing a laugh at the mess.

Sukuna crosses his arms, one eyebrow raised, but there’s a soft look in his eyes. “Yeah, brat, you really outdid yourself.” he says with a small grin. “What’s the occasion?”

Yuji’s smile falters a little, and he looks down at his feet, shuffling nervously. “I… I wanted to say sorry for yesterday.” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to make you worry… So I wanted to make you a special breakfast to make up for it.”

Your heart melts at his sincerity. You crouch down to his level and pull him into a gentle hug. “Oh, Yuji, you don’t have to do that for us.” you say softly. “We know you didn’t mean to worry us. We’re just happy you’re safe.”

Yuji hugs you back tightly, burying his face in your shoulder for a moment. “But I wanted to, Auntie!” he insists. “Because I love you and Uncle Sukuna… and I wanted to make you smile.”

Sukuna’s expression softens further, and he crouches down next to you, ruffling Yuji’s hair. “Hey, brat, you already made us feel relieved.” he says gruffly, though his voice is unusually gentle. “But I guess we should at least taste this fine meal you’ve prepared, huh?”

Yuji’s face lights up again, and he nods eagerly. “Yes! I made a sandwich and cereal! It’s my favorite!”

You and Sukuna exchange a glance, amused but touched by Yuji’s earnestness. You take a bite of the butter-and-jam sandwich, doing your best to keep a straight face as the unevenly spread butter melts on your tongue alongside a very generous layer of sweet jam.

“It’s… unique.” you say, giving Yuji a big smile. “Thank you, Yuji.”

Sukuna follows suit, picking up the cereal bowl and taking a careful sip of the overly milky concoction. “Mmm.” he says with a nod, holding back a chuckle. “Not bad, brat. Not bad at all.”

Yuji beams, clearly delighted by your reactions. “Yay! I’m glad you like it!” He claps his hands, his earlier nerves completely gone now.

You reach over and give Yuji another hug. “Thank you for being so thoughtful, Yuji.” you say warmly. “You’ve definitely made our morning.”

Sukuna nods, wrapping an arm around Yuji’s shoulders. “Yeah, brat….you’re alright.” he says, a rare softness in his tone. “But next time, let’s make breakfast together, okay? Might save a little bit of the kitchen from total destruction.”

Yuji giggles, nodding eagerly. “Okay, Uncle Sukuna! Next time, we’ll make pancakes!”

You smile, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you as you look at the two of them. Despite the mess, despite the unexpectedness of it all, you can’t think of a better way to start the day.

Later that morning, as you and Sukuna help Yuji clean up the kitchen — which now looks like it’s survived a mini tornado — your phone rings. You glance at the screen and see it’s Jin calling. You exchange a quick look with Sukuna, who’s wiping a smear of jam off the counter, and answer the call.

“Hey, Jin!” you greet him warmly, keeping an eye on Yuji, who is carefully stacking dishes in the sink. “How’s everything going?”

Jin’s voice comes through, sounding a bit tired but cheerful. “Hey! We’re wrapping up at work sooner than we thought. Kaori’s gonna arrive in a day or two. I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way back home. I should be there in a few hours.”

You feel a pang of mixed emotions — relief that Jin and Kaori are safe and on their way back, but also a little sadness knowing this means Yuji’s stay with you is coming to an end. “That’s great news, Jin.” you say, glancing at Yuji. “We’ve had such a fun time with Yuji, he’s been wonderful.”

Jin laughs. “I’m glad to hear that! I hope he wasn't too much trouble for you guys.”

Sukuna snorts softly, overhearing the conversation. “Trouble? That’s an understatement.” he mutters, though there’s a fondness in his voice that he doesn’t bother hiding.

You grin at Sukuna’s comment before turning your attention back to Jin. “No trouble at all.” you assure him. “Yuji’s been an absolute sweetheart.”

Jin sighs, a smile evident in his tone. “Thanks for looking after him. We’ll come to pick him up as soon as we get back.”

You hang up the phone and turn to Yuji, who’s watching you with wide, curious eyes. He tilts his head slightly. “Was that Daddy?” he asks, his little voice hopeful.

You nod, smiling gently. “Yes, Yuji. Your dad said he and your mom are on their way back. They’ll be here to pick you up soon.”

Yuji’s face falls, and his shoulders slump. “But… but I don’t wanna go home yet.” he murmurs, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. “I’m having so much fun with you and Uncle Sukuna…”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looks down at his nephew. “Oh, come on, brat.” he says, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. “You miss your parents, don’t you?”

Yuji frowns and shakes his head, his small hands clenching the hem of his shirt. “But I wanna stay here longer! We didn’t even make cookies yet!” he protests, looking between you and Sukuna with pleading eyes.

You kneel down to his level, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Yuji, we’ve had so much fun with you, and we’re going to miss you too.” you say softly. “But your mom and dad miss you too, and they can’t wait to see you.”

Yuji’s eyes welled up with tears, and he looked down, his voice barely a whisper. “I know… but I like being here… with you two.”

Sukuna sighs, his expression softening. He crouches down beside you, his hand resting on Yuji’s shoulder. “Hey, brat.” he says, his tone gentler now, “Just because you’re going home doesn’t mean we won’t see you again. We’ll have more fun days together, I promise.”

Yuji sniffles, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Really?”

“Really.” Sukuna confirms, ruffling his hair. “And next time, we’ll definitely make those cookies, huh? Maybe even chocolate chip ones. What do you say?”

Yuji’s face brightens a little, and he nods, his tears already forgotten at the mention of chocolate chip cookies. “Okay… but can we still go to the park one last time before I go home?”

You exchange a glance with Sukuna, and he rolls his eyes playfully. “Alright, one last trip to the park.” he concedes with a smirk. “But only because you already made us breakfast.”

Yuji grins, and you can’t help but smile too, your heart feeling full. “Let’s get ready, then.” you say, standing up and taking Yuji’s hand. “One more adventure before your parents come to get you.”

Yuji cheers, jumping up and down excitedly. “Yay! Let’s go!” he exclaims, all traces of sadness gone.

As you head out the door, you feel Sukuna’s hand slip into yours, giving it a light squeeze. “You’re good with him, you know? Thank you for that, babe.” he murmurs, a rare softness in his voice. 

You smile up at him. “Oh, you don’t have to thank me. You’re just as good with taking care of him, you know? Love that about you, babe.” you reply.

Sukuna couldn’t help but snorts but doesn’t disagree, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he leads the way, Yuji’s laughter filling the air. And for now, that’s all that matters.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

epilogue

Itadori Choso finally arrives home from college after a long drive. He was eager to spend some time with his little brother, Yuji. Being far gone in college, all he thinks about is when he’d get to play with his little brother. And he can’t wait. He steps into the house, dropping his bags by the door with a loud thud, and immediately calls out in front of his mother.

“Yuji! I’m back!”

Yuji, who has been doodling in the living room, perks up and runs over to greet him. “Big brother!” he shouts, throwing his arms around his older brother in a big hug. But no sooner has he hugged Choso than he starts babbling excitedly. “Guess what! I had the best time ever with Uncle Sukuna and Auntie!”

Choso’s smile wavers slightly, and he looks down at Yuji with a puzzled expression. “Oh, did you?” he asks, his tone laced with a bit of unease. “What did you do with them?”

Yuji’s eyes light up as he launches into a detailed recount of every moment spent with you and Sukuna, from the trip to the zoo to making breakfast and playing at the park. “And then Uncle Sukuna said we’ll make chocolate chip cookies next time! And Auntie said we could go to the beach too!”

Choso’s smile turns into a slightly forced grin as he listens, nodding along but feeling a twinge of jealousy in his chest. “Wow, sounds like you had… a lot of fun.” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “But hey, I’m back now, so we can have fun too, right? We can do all the things we used to do!”

Yuji’s face scrunches up in thought for a moment before he shrugs. “I guess…” he says, a bit too nonchalantly for Choso’s liking. “But Uncle Sukuna is really funny, and Auntie gives the best hugs. And we were going to make pancakes!”

Choso’s eye twitches slightly. “I can make cookies too, you know,” he says, sounding just a tad defensive. “I’ve been making them for you since forever, Yuji.”

Yuji nods, but he looks unconvinced. “Yeah, but… Uncle Sukuna flips them really high in the air. And Auntie says we can put as many chocolate chips as we want!”

Choso crosses his arms, his brow furrowing. “Oh, really?” he mutters. “Well, I bet Uncle Sukuna can’t make cookies shaped like dinosaurs like I can.” He puffs out his chest a little, feeling smug.

Yuji’s eyes widen for a second, but then he shrugs again. “Maybe!” he admits. “But Uncle Sukuna and Auntie took me to the zoo and the park, and we saw a real dinosaur—uh, I mean, a lizard that looked like one!”

Choso’s eyebrow twitches again, and he huffs. “Yeah, well, that’s cool and all, but I’m way cooler than Uncle Sukuna, right?” he says, trying to sound casual, but his voice pitches a little higher than usual.

Yuji tilts his head, considering this for a long, exaggerated moment. “Umm… I dunno…” he finally says, looking genuinely torn. “You’re both cool. But Uncle Sukuna can lift me with one arm! Can you do that?”

Choso frowns. “Of course, I can! I’m your big brother!” He scoops Yuji up in a single swift motion, lifting him high into the air. “See? I’m strong too!”

Yuji giggles, kicking his legs. “Okay, okay! You’re strong too, Choso!”

Choso sets him down with a triumphant grin, feeling like he’s finally won this little contest. “See? You don’t need Uncle Sukuna. You’ve got me.”

But then, just as Choso thinks he’s secured his place as Yuji’s favorite, you and Sukuna walk through the front door, having stopped by to return a forgotten toy. Yuji’s face lights up like a thousand-watt bulb. “Auntie! Uncle Sukuna!” he squeals, running over to you both.

Choso watches, deflated, as Yuji clings to your leg, babbling excitedly about your return. He turns to Sukuna, glaring a little. “So, you think you’re the cool uncle, huh?” he grumbles.

Sukuna smirks, crossing his arms with a cocky grin. “I don’t think, kid. I know.”

Choso rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, “I knew I should’ve stayed home this semester…” 

You laugh, noticing Choso’s pout, and lean in conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, Choso.” you say with a wink. “There’s always room for many cool people in Yuji’s life.”

Choso sighs but manages a smile. “Yeah, yeah, I guess so.” he mutters, giving in with a playful eye roll. “But I’m still making those dinosaur cookies with him today.”

Yuji bounces up and down excitedly. “Dinosaur cookies with chocolate chips!” he exclaims, clearly enjoying this newfound competition for his affection.

Sukuna scoffs, grinning. “Game on, Choso. Game on.”

And with that, Choso knows his days of being Yuji’s favorite are numbered… but at least it’ll be fun trying to win back the title.

[sunnami]

❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm. 

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers. 

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell. 

Not again! 

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside. 

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due. 

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident,  Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors. 

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.) 

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head.  You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction. 

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams. 

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.) 

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else. 

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.   

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.  

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes. 

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.) 

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier. 

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.) 

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones. 

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback. 

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling. 

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did. 

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again. 

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing. 

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else. 

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion. 

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.) 

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate? 

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus. 

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel. 

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?” 

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace. 

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could. 

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. “I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap. 

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh. 

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it. 

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two. 

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity. 

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers. 

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate. 

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear. 

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you. 

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask. 

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?) 

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background? 

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you. 

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall. 

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .” 

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”  

Lily stays silent. 

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face? 

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company. 

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words. 

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!” 

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback. 

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.” 

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp. 

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave. 

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof. 

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall? 

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that. 

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek. 

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve. 

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes. 

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.” 

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.” 

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.” 

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.” 

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?” 

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.” 

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp. 

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’ 

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?) 

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well. 

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head. 

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun. 

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.) 

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger. 

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done. 

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest. 

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old. 

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’ 

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.) 

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about. 

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.) 

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned. 

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.) 

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold. 

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby. 

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands. 

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.) 

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth. 

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work. 

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”) 

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.) 

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done. 

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?” 

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?) 

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.” 

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.” 

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.” 

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.” 

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace. 

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.” 

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?” 

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.” 

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug. 

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red. 

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .” 

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.” 

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second. 

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave. 

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes. 

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes. 

You freeze in fear. 

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels. 

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.” 

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.” 

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?” 

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.  

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.” 

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back. 

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?” 

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?” 

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?” 

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly. 

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.” 

And so, you choose them. 

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor. 

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy��s wedding.” 

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper. 

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same. 

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more. 

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.

[secretmellowblog]

Jean Valjean's Canon Toxic Unhealthiness around Romantic Love

( alternate titles: “Does Jean Valjean is Gay?”, or “Does Jean Valjean is Asexual?” Or: “Why is it so difficult to slap an identity/sexuality label onto Jean Valjean?” Or “LGBTPTSD+”)

I was looking at the responses to this poll about whether people interpret Jean Valjean as gay/asexual/straight or something else….and it got me thinking again about Jean Valjean’s canonical intense, complex, awful, toxic, and overwrought emotions around identity/ romantic love. I want to talk about that for a bit because I think it often gets overlooked in fandom!

I've noticed that Les Mis fandom/analysis often tends to interpret Jean Valjean as being far more content, more "at peace with himself," and more "comfortable in his own skin" than he ever is within the novel. This is also a common change in adaptations. The musical's version of Jean Valjean is great-- but he also seems a lot more self-actualized, more like he's gotten himself completely "figured out" by the end of the story. Other, bad, Les Mis adaptations — the adaptations that generally portray Jean Valjean a worse more violent person — also usually make Jean Valjean more confident in himself, more confident in his own feelings/desires, more certain that he’s entitled to certain things, and more willing to demand or take what he wants.

But one major aspect of book Jean Valjean's personality is that he does not have a healthy relationship with anything about himself. He has a tortured broken relationship with his own identity. He repeatedly thinks about “Jean Valjean” as a person outside of himself, a person who he finds frightening, repulsive, savage, and horrible— like a wild animal he needs to sedate, or beat into submission. He is obsessed with self-denial and self-repression. He is fixated on the idea that he is subhuman, that he is not allowed to want things or to pursue having any kinds of relationships with other people-- and that the most heroic thing he can do is "grab himself by the collar” and violently force himself to stay away from the things he wants. He is desperate to be loved and fixated on being unworthy of love and on denying himself love. He is absolutely not at peace with his identity: to paraphrase Jean Valjean in one of the later chapters, he believes he can only gain inner peace by “eviscerating his own entrails.”

He is never truly content with who he is, what he wants, or what kind of love he wants— and he never learns to be. The novel ends with him cutting himself off from his only family, breaking ties with the only person who loves him, and essentially slowly killing himself out of self-loathing.

There are other characters in Les Mis who seem very content with who they are and what they want. Enjolras is self-assured in his identity, and doesn’t appear to feel like there is any kind of love that is missing from his life. Whether you interpret him as gay or ace or trans or w/e, book!Enjolras is written as someone who is extremely self-assured and has a loving support system that is enough to keep him happy. But I don’t think that’s true for Jean Valjean at all XD.

And that’s why it's hard to apply labels like “aromantic” or “ace” or gay/straight/etc to Jean Valjean, when talking about his canon characterization. Those labels imply the person has a basic level of comfort with acknowledging their own desires/lack of desire/identity. And Jean Valjean never achieves that level of comfort. What “label” do you give to someone whose relationship with their identity is “I do not belong in a family, I have no right to want things, I have no right to be happy, I am outside of life, and I will never be at peace until I eviscerate my own entrails?” Is there a “self-disembowelment" pride flag? XD I've seen a lot of interpretations that go "Jean Valjean never expresses any interest in romance, he's perfectly content just to have his relationship with his daughter" but I honestly don't think that's true. Jean Valjean tries to content himself with having only Cosette. But part of why everything explodes so catastrophically in the end of the novel is because he needs more than just a paternal relationship. He doesn’t try to have a “normal” father-daughter relationship with Cosette, he tries to force his relationship with Cosette to be literally everything and everyone to him, for her to be his entire world: and it doesn’t work.

There’s a passage in the novel that talks about how all the love Valjean is capable of ends up being suppressed/sublimated into his relationship with Cosette. The love of a brother, of a friend, of a father, of a husband, the love of everything he is capable of, gets repressed so that he can throw every part of himself into being a father. There are Bad les mis adaptations that incorrectly misinterpret that passage to mean that Jean Valjean is incestuous/grooming Cosette. But in context, that’s not what the passage means at all.

The passage specifies very explicitly that Jean Valjean “did not love Cosette otherwise than as a father,” that “no marriage was possible between them,” that his feelings for her are absolutely paternal. But the passage does show how Jean Valjean is doing a very different unhealthy thing: he’s relying on Cosette to fill every single emotional void in his life.

He’s relying on parenthood to fill the grief/emptiness left behind by all the other kinds of love that he has wanted, but never been given.

To quote a bit of that passage:

Jean Valjean did not love Cosette otherwise than as a father (…) Let the reader recall the situation of heart which we have already indicated. No marriage was possible between them; not even that of souls; and yet, it is certain that their destinies were wedded. With the exception of Cosette, that is to say, with the exception of a childhood, Jean Valjean had never, in the whole of his long life, known anything of that which may be loved. The passions and loves which succeed each other had not produced in him those successive green growths, tender green or dark green, which can be seen in foliage which passes through the winter and in men who pass fifty. In short, and we have insisted on it more than once, all this interior fusion, all this whole, of which the sum total was a lofty virtue, ended in rendering Jean Valjean a father to Cosette. A strange father, forged from the grandfather, the son, the brother, and the husband, that existed in Jean Valjean; a father in whom there was included even a mother; a father who loved Cosette and adored her, and who held that child as his light, his home, his family, his country, his paradise.

Jean Valjean reminds me of a Failmode I’ve seen in a lot of different real-life parents? There are parents who cope with their own hard lives by telling themselves that parenthood is their sole reason for being alive, and who obsess over their child’s success as their only source of purpose, meaning, love, happiness, community, and validation. But it’s a bad idea to rely on one child to provide the emotional support that should be shared by friends, parents, siblings, every possible loved one, etc etc—- One child can’t actually heal you from your trauma, be a replacement for your broken relationships, pull you out of your grief, save you from your adult loneliness, etc etc etc etc.

When I see the common interpretation that Jean Valjean is perfectly content just to be the father of Cosette, I think of this line:

Thus when he saw that the end had absolutely come, that she was escaping from him, that she was slipping from his hands, that she was gliding from him, like a cloud, like water, when he had before his eyes this crushing proof: “another is the goal of her heart, another is the wish of her life; there is a dearest one, I am no longer anything but her father, I no longer exist”; when he could no longer doubt, when he said to himself: “She is going away from me!” the grief which he felt surpassed the bounds of possibility. To have done all that he had done for the purpose of ending like this! And the very idea of being nothing!

On one hand, the terrible Les mis adaptations that portray Valjean as Incest Creep are incorrect and wrong. On the other hand, though, Jean Valjean IS unhealthy about Cosette— just in a different and actually sympathetic way.

He has made fatherhood his only purpose, to replace every other purpose he could have in life. So he can’t be “just Cosette’s father.” He can’t imagine her becoming an adult and leaving the nest, like children do. What does he have if he’s not taking care of her? What is his purpose in life if she doesn’t need him to be her parent? He's not just being her father, he's relying on her to be his entire reason to exist. He hasn't been allowing himself to have things outside of her.

And speaking of things outside of Cosette: segue time. This post was supposed to be about Jean Valjean and romance, so let's switch gears and talk about his canon 'romantic experiences' more:

We’re told that in his youth he “never had a sweetheart” because he “never had time to be in love.” There is no indication that Jean Valjean never wanted to be in love. The opposite is implied. Hugo frames it as a tragedy that Jean Valjean’s does not experience young love; it’s the horror of poverty taking yet another thing from him.

Within prison, Valjean is “gloomy” and “chaste;” when he traumadumps to Montparnasse about it, he talks about women looking on galley slaves with horror and disgust. Romance, at least “normal” heterosexual romance, is no longer something that is permitted for him. Jean Valjean knows very little about romance/love/sex and it repeatedly messes up his life. He spends 19 years in the all-male environment of prison, then about a decade in the almost-all-female environment of the convent. He has very little experience with how men and women are supposed to interact. The oppression Fantine faces as a sex worker, and Cosette's relationship with Marius, are both two big 'blind spots' that he struggles with.

At one point romantic love is described as “The only misery Jean Valjean had not yet experienced, and the only one that is sweet.”

In his massive confession to Marius, he agonizes over how he is not allowed to be part of a family, and is incapable of being part of a home. He compares himself to someone sick and diseased, that poisons good and normal people with his presence, and cannot be allowed to make himself part of their families.

So Jean Valjean doesn’t frame Romance as “a thing he doesn’t want:” it’s a thing “he is not allowed to want,” it is one of the many things he is banned from wanting. It's impossible to tell what kind of things he would want, if he were allowed to want them.

One of the most interesting things to me, however, is his general attitude towards Marius/Cosette.

Obviously his first reaction to Marius snooping around is fear and resentment— he doesn’t know to interact with romance, having never experienced it, and immediately begins catastrophizing. He views Marius as a privileged booby ruining his life for something as frivolous as a love affair: it reads to me as partially envy, envy of the fact that Marius lives the kind of safe comfortable life that allows him to experience young love.

Jean Valjean added: “What does he want? A love affair! A love affair! And I? What! I have been first, the most wretched of men, and then the most unhappy, and I have traversed sixty years of life on my knees, I have suffered everything that man can suffer, I have grown old without having been young, I have lived without a family, without relatives, without friends, without life, without children, I have left my blood on every stone, on every bramble, on every mile-post, along every wall, I have been gentle, though others have been hard to me, and kind, although others have been malicious, I have become an honest man once more, in spite of everything, I have repented of the evil that I have done and have forgiven the evil that has been done to me, and at the moment when I receive my recompense, at the moment when it is all over, at the moment when I am just touching the goal, at the moment when I have what I desire, it is well, it is good, I have paid, I have earned it, all this is to take flight, all this will vanish, and I shall lose Cosette, and I shall lose my life, my joy, my soul, because it has pleased a great booby to come and lounge at the Luxembourg.”

But, even though Jean Valjean views romance as something he isn’t allowed or have or to want, views it as a threat and catastrophizes over how it will ruin his life……he seems to also put heterosexual romance on a pedestal.

The way Jean Valjean idealizes marriage is one of his weirdest character notes for me.

He views marriage as Cosette’s “happy ending.” It’s her “happily ever after” point where she won’t need him anymore, where she won’t need anyone outside of her husband. A Man And a Woman Are Meant to Get Married, It's Fate, and It Means They Will Live Happily Together Forever. Marius is “the goal of her heart, the wish of her life; her dearest one.” Nothing outside of that matters anymore.

He treats her marriage as if romantic love is inherently always more important than any kind of platonic relationships, and always takes priority over them. He later dismisses the unconventional family structure he has with Cosette, saying that despite his love for her he was only a "passerby" and was not actually her real father, because they were not biologically related.

There's a moment where Jean Valjean is described as someone whose ideal is to be angel on the inside and a bourgeois on the outside. Jean Valjean's worship of bourgeois social norms, norms he can never truly be a part of, is one of his character flaws. He has a similar "guard dog" energy as Eponine does when she defends Rue Plumet from her parents.....Eponine and Jean Valjean both become the guard dogs of a kind of romantic relationship they believe they are banned from having. Jean Valjean believes that getting Happily Straight Married in a Middle-Class Home with a Picket Fence(tm) is the ideal path for life....but believes himself broken/incapable of ever following that path. And so he instead throws his entire life into securing that future for Marius and Cosette.

In what manner was Jean Valjean to behave in relation to the happiness of Cosette and Marius? It was he who had willed that happiness, it was he who had brought it about; he had, himself, buried it in his entrails, and at that moment, when he reflected on it, he was able to enjoy the sort of satisfaction which an armorer would experience on recognizing his factory mark on a knife, on withdrawing it, all smoking, from his own breast. Cosette had Marius, Marius possessed Cosette. They had everything, even riches. And this was his doing.

TL: DR:

Jean Valjean's gender/sexuality label is “idk but he’s super fucked up about it.”

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

daddy!chan helping you shave

genre: smut

word count: ~2.7k

warnings: daddy chan, oral (f.receiving), fingering, squirting, pet names.

an: chan won the poll on which member should get a part 2. so here it is! sorry it took me so long, i’m going through some shit. heh

masterlist - part 1

you felt so cozy, and warm. laying on the couch, chan’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly to his chest. the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed slowly, was lulling you to sleep. the knit blanket covering your legs felt soft against your skin. he gently ran his fingers through your hair, your eyes growing heavy. you were fighting to keep them open and focused on the movie.

that was until his hand started to travel.

it moved from your hair, down your neck, his fingertips leaving goosebumps on your skin. it traveled over your pajama shirt and down your back. his hand cupped your ass before giving it a rough squeeze. your eyes shot open, your hand gripping his black t-shirt. he chuckled softly as he squeezed your ass again. alternating between rubbing his fingers up and down your skin, and squeezing roughly, his fingers surely leaving marks. this went on for a moment, before you whimpered against him. hearing your sound, he tilted your head up to look at him. without saying a word, he gently placed his lips against yours. his lips were so soft and full against your own, so gentle and loving.

he deepened the kiss, sliding his hand in between your body and his, cupping your warmth with his hand. you gasped into his mouth as he rubbed soft circles over the material of your pajama pants.

"daddy—" you panted.

"what is it baby?" he whispered against your lips.

"we—" it was hard to focus on your words when his fingers were doing that. "we can’t."

he stopped suddenly, thinking that you were unhappy with what he was doing. "why not, baby? do you not want to?" he asked, pain in his eyes.

"no! no it’s not that. i always want to.." you blushed.

he smiled warmly at you. "well if it’s not that, then what is it?"

"i just.. i haven’t shaved in a while.." you said softly, embarrassed.

"aww baby" he cooed. "you know i don’t care about that. you’re perfect, in any form." he thought about it for a moment, before kissing your forehead. "do you remember what you asked me a couple weeks ago?"

you thought back, but couldn’t think of anything. you shook your head no.

"you don’t remember texting me and asking me if i would help you shave?"

oh yeah. you suddenly remembered. you had been in a particular mood that day. needing him bad and he wasn’t home to help you. "oh yeah, i remember now." you tell him.

"i know i remember." he said. "i was fighting an erection the entire afternoon." he laughed, the sound shaking your body where it was in contact with his. "do you still want to do that?" he asked. "now seems like the perfect opportunity.."

you thought about it for a moment. it’s definitely out of your comfort zone. you imagined what it would look like to be standing over him as he knelt. the thought made your skin hot and that familiar feeling to pool in your tummy. you were nervous, but you knew that he would help you through it. he always did. you nodded. "yeah, we could try that."

he stood up gently, offering you his hand. you took it and he led you to the bathroom. he leaned in and turned the shower on, the sound of the water hitting the tiles filled the room. he turned to you, cupping your face in his hands. "you’re so beautiful, baby." he said. "my perfect girl." he punctuated his statement with a quick kiss to your lips, before pulling away, smiling. he reached for the hem of your shirt, waiting for your approving nod before lifting it over your head and discarding it on the floor. he made quick work of your pants too, giving you a quick preview of what you were in for as he knelt on the bathroom floor to help you step out of your pants, throwing them in the same corner as your shirt. you stood there, naked, feeling his eyes on you. you were nervous, you itched to cover yourself with your hands, but you knew better. that would only get you a scolding.

"you now." you said, tugging on his clothing.

he chuckled, before reaching behind his neck and grabbing the back of his shirt, swiftly pulling it over his head. and before you could even look at his body, he bent over and pulled his pants down, kicking them to the side. he was so.. perfect. you questioned again for the millionth time that day how you got so lucky. he kissed the top of your head, before leaning in and checking the temperature of the water. his muscles flexed with the movement, muscles in his side and his shoulders that you never got to admire much. he caught you staring. he smiled. "i think the water is warm enough. in you go." he held the glass shower door open, and grabbed your hand. "careful, tiles are slippery." he said as you stepped inside. the warm water felt so nice against your skin. you stepped into the stream, letting it cover your entire body. you heard the shower door close behind you, before feeling strong hands on your waist.

he stepped into the stream as well, the water droplets rolling tantalizingly down his chiseled chest. you were staring again. you forced your eyes up to his face. he was looking at you, his eyes practically sparkling with admiration. the steam in the air was already causing his hair to start to curl and that made your heart flutter. you loved his curly hair so much, you wished he would embrace it more often. he reached for the soap, opening the bottle and dispensing a small amount into his hand. he rubbed his hands together, the veins running down his fingers and up his wrist, under his chrome hearts bracelet that still hung from his wrist. god his hands looked good. you were staring again. you scolded yourself internally. telling yourself to get a grip.

his hands started on your hips, rubbing the soap in circles, the bubbles sliding down your legs. he moved his way up, washing your tummy, and your arms, before gently taking your breasts in his hands, rubbing the soap into your skin. your eyes closed, your body swaying. "eyes open princess. i don’t want you to fall."

he washed your collarbones and your shoulders, before motioning for you to turn around. he got some more soap and started rubbing circles into your back, your neck, and your ass. he rubbed back and forth, trying to squeeze your cheeks with his hand, but your skin is too slippery. you felt him kneeling behind you, rubbing the soap in to your thighs and your calves.

"okay, baby." he said. you turned back around to see him kneeling on the shower floor, looking up at you. his thighs looked large, his muscles flexing, his cock was semi hard, resting against his left thigh. the muscles in his stomach were prominent, the hard ridges wet with water. his chest was similar in musculature and dampness, giving way to his broad shoulders that you loved so much. but most devastating, was his face. he looked up at you, his brown eyes twinkling in the soft light of the bathroom, a single drop of water perched on his cupid’s bow, threatening to spill over his full lips at any second. his dark curls clung to his forehead, begging to have your fingers running through them.

the sight made your knees weak.

he reached for the soap, the separate soap you use just on your intimate area. he squeezed some into his hand, and looked up at you again, almost questioning with his eyes if this was still okay with you. you nodded. he nudged your legs apart slightly, before bringing his soap covered hand to your center. he gently rubbed the soap back and forth, coating your skin and hair but careful to only stay on the outside. this should not be sexual, you thought. it shouldn’t be. but god did he look good, his eyes focused on the task in front of him, his gentle fingers rubbing against your most sensitive area. you held back your whimpers, not wanting him to see how much this small action from him affected you.

"could you hand me your razor?" he asked, his voice gruff. this was affecting him just as much as it was affecting you. his cock was hard now, standing up on its own. he held his hand out and you placed your razor in his palm. "put your foot there." he pointed to the small ledge to the right. "please be careful, it’ll be hard for daddy to catch you when i’m on the floor." carefully you lifted your leg and put your foot on the ledge. "good?" he asked. you nodded, feeling sturdy for the time being.

he turned his attention back to your center, analyzing, trying to decide where to start. you had the thought that he may be nervous. which was a rare occurrence for him, at least outwardly. he was always so confident, it was cute to see him a little unsure. with his thumb, he reached up and held the skin taught, before slowly bringing the razor to your skin. he made his first pass, pulling the razor in the direction of your hair growth. he reached behind you and rinsed the razor in the falling water. "is that okay?"

you nodded again. "you’re doing good." you said.

he smiled. "thank you baby." he made pass after pass, stopping to rinse the blade each time. and your arousal grew with each pass. he was so gentle, so careful with you. you felt so small, and loved, and taken care of. you needed him. he made quick work of it, honestly. but was careful around the top. he knew you liked to keep some hair there, so he was gentle and made sure to only trim that area and not shave it completely. he leaned back and admired his work. "i think im done." he said. "does it pass?"

you reached down and felt your skin. it was smooth and hair free where it needed to be and there were no cuts or scrapes. "i think it’s perfect." you told him. you leaned back, letting the water run over your shoulder and down your body, rinsing away any left over soap.

"i think you’re perfect." he said, watching the water fall over your bare skin, drops catching on your nipples. he leaned in and placing a kiss just below your belly button. his kiss was sloppy, you could feel his tongue against your skin. "now that i’ve shaved it, can i play with it?"

he kissed lower, over the small patch of hair that he purposely left. he looked up at you through his lashes, waiting for your answer. "fuck- yes. yes you can." you huffed out.

he let out an mmm. "language baby." he scolded gently, his kisses going even further south.

"sorry daddy." you mumbled. "just need it so bad."

"what do you need, princess?" he asked, pulling at the hair gently with his lips, his fingers grazing your inner thighs.

you whined, unable to find the words, frustrated that he is going to make you say it instead of just giving it to you.

"you can do it baby, tell daddy what you want."

your hands balled into fists at your sides, you would have stomped your feet in protest if you weren’t so precariously perched on one leg. "need—" you tried, his tongue played in the little patch of hair, causing your brain to short circuit. "need your fingers."

"my fingers?" he teased. "where?" he ran his hand up your thigh, and ran his fingers in between your folds. "here?" his fingers rubbed small circles around your clit, your body jerking. you forced your body still. you didn’t want him to stop because he thought you may fall. his fingers slid down and played with your entrance. "or here?" he asked.

"there. please there." you almost cried.

he slipped his index finger inside of you, pushing it in slowly. "but what about your little clitty baby?" he pumped his finger in and out, agonizingly slow.

"you— your— your tongue."

he licked one quick pass over your clit, your body jerking again. "baby i’ll lick and finger your little pussy but you have to stay still okay? i’ll never forgive myself if you fall and i can’t catch you."

you nodded quickly, needing him desperately. "i— i promise i’ll be- be careful." you hiccuped.

"good girl baby." he said before lapping at your clit. he added another finger, sliding it easily in with the other, your arousal coating his fingers. his tongue moved leisurely back and forth, savoring your taste. one of your hands braced yourself against the wall, the other came down and tangled itself in his mess of curls. he hummed against you as you tugged gently on his hair. a stream of curse words were running through your mind, but you didn’t let them out, wanting to be a good girl for him. instead you let out the moans and whimpers, your voice echoing off the tiles.

"your clenching around me, princess." he said, curving his fingers to hit your favorite spot. "are you going to cum?"

you nodded, having increasingly more trouble holding your body still. you felt that familiar feeling and you were suddenly glad that you were in the shower. "daddy— it’s going to be a big one." you said, your cheeks and ears flushing pink. he knew exactly what you meant. and it made his cock ache. he reached down and stroked himself, fucking his fist as he licked across your clit.

"are you gonna make a mess, baby?" the sounds coming from your pussy told him that you were. it was getting harder and harder to push his fingers into you, you were squeezing so hard. "want it on my face baby." he mumbled against your skin. "fuck— i know you can do it." his tongue kept the same glorious pace, his arm muscles working overtime to continue pumping his fingers into you. and you could feel it, your orgasm crashed over you and you gripped his hair tightly. "good girl baby. good girl." he praised. your release was leaking out around his fingers, he pulled them out quickly and replaced them with his tongue, your cum squirting out into his mouth and coating his chin and chest. "fuck— yes." he groaned, one of his hands squeezing your ass as he licked up every drop.

you were proud of yourself for not falling, but your legs were incredibly weak. you looked down at him, his skin was flushed, his eyes glazed, his cum peppered his abdomen. he looked completely fucked out. "you.." he panted. "you, are perfect, little one."

he stood, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, you tasted yourself on his tongue. you carefully removed your foot from the ledge and placed it on the floor, your legs wobbly as you fell into him. "hey hey, easy." he said, holding you. he quickly washed himself, cleaning the evidence off of his skin, before gently washing you again, his fingers running over your sensitive and puffy clit. he rinsed both you you, the water only lukewarm at this point. he reached behind you and shut it off. you leaned against him, feeling useless, your body heavy and weak. he opened the shower door and grabbed a towel. he wrapped the fluffy material around your body, rubbing back and forth and helping you dry off.

"you did so good, baby." he said, kissing the top of your head. he wrapped the towel around your shoulders, and his arms over the towel, before squeezing you against him. "i love you." he said against your hair.

you did your best to wrap your arms around his waist, returning his hug. "love you, daddy."

he stepped out of the shower, holding your hand he helped you step out onto the bath mat. "let’s get you to bed."

you nodded, sleepily.

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[fairyhaos]

❍ the 2k event: jeonghan + jellyfish

vote for this fic in the poll!

alternative title: down here in the deep blue sea

pairing: siren prince!jeonghan x selkie!gn!reader

genre: mythical au, siren au, friends to lovers

word count: 1130

warnings: none

event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @my-moarmy-heart @hannyoontify @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @sweet-like-caramel @horanghae8 @graybaeismytae @karionice @hopetiger10

The bottom of the ocean is dark and cold and unpleasant. There is little light, and the creatures that live here are fierce, hardened by the harsh environment they’ve evolved to survive in. Here in his palace, Jeonghan is shielded from the worst of it, but even he understands that the never-ending abyss that makes up his family’s kingdom is nothing like the glittering, lively seas that their distant mermaid cousins live in.

But it’s all that Jeonghan has ever known.

That is, until he met you.

“Jeonghan! Jeonghan, Jeonghan, I’m here!”

Jeonghan doesn't have time to look up before a selkie comes crashing into him, all sleek, soft fur and big eyes. He laughs, because he's used to this by now, and pushes away your head slightly so that you're not squishing your cheek against his. 

"Get away from me, you rascal, you're going to mess up my hair," he says, but he's smiling, and you beam at him in return, all twinkling irises and bubbling laughter. 

"Yeah, yeah, it's gonna get messed up anyway," you say, ruffling his hair just to prove your point. "Anyway. Ready to go?"

Jeonghan cocks his head, smiling. "Maybe. Where are we going this time?"

You tap your lips secretively. "It's a secret. You ready to come or not?"

He rolls his eyes, pretending to give a long-suffering sigh. "Alright. Let's go." He looks around the darkened sea garden, peering into the bushes. "Shua!"

Another siren pops his head up above a cluster of bioluminescent sea flowers. "Yes, sire?"

"I'm gonna leave," Jeonghan says, pointing to you. "Y/N's taking me hostage. Don't expect me back until at least supper time."

Joshua crosses his arms and swims towards where you and Jeonghan are sitting. "Jeonghan, I can't keep covering for you forever," he protests. "I think there are only so many times I can pretend you got lost in the Royal Seaweed Maze before someone realises I'm lying about the Crown Prince's whereabouts."

"Then just this one last time, Shuji," Jeonghan says easily, grinning. "I'll bring you along next time Y/N and I go somewhere. How about that?"

Joshua wrinkles his nose, the scales on his cheeks glowing neon pink in the light of the flowers. "Hmph. Just go. Tomorrow, I'm resigning as your personal guard."

"You do that," Jeonghan says with a smile,  because they both know that Joshua would never leave him. "See you tonight, Shua!"

"Yes!" you cheer. "Let's go!" You ruffle Joshua's hair in consolation before grabbing Jeonghan's hand, sending a bright grin over to the siren prince and then swimming upwards, up, up, away from the kingdom down in the abyss. 

———————————— 🪼

"Are you really not going to tell me where we're going?"

You look over at Jeonghan, whiskers twitching, and reply with a chirrup, bubbles escaping your mouth. 

He sighs at you, smiling, flicking his tail and swimming faster so he's beside you. You slap at him with a seal flipper when he attempts to poke your cheek, making more seal noises before he laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. 

"Okay, okay. But seriously, where are we going?"

You morph out of your seal form into one that's slightly more conversation-able, the faintest whiskers still on your cheeks and the sleekness of your selkie fur blending into something resembling human skin. You grin, and point upwards. "Not a where. A what."

Jeonghan looks up, and his eyes widen. 

You've led him so far away from the depths of the ocean, and with just a few miles of swimming he'd be able to break the surface of the water. But that's not what he's looking at. 

Above you both, there's a swarm of transparent, floaty things, tinted in pretty pinks and oranges with what looks like long, thin threads dancing in the movement of the sea. 

"We're here to see the jellyfish," you say, and he mouths the word to himself in wonder. 

He watches as the jellyfish bob around, following the movement of the current. They look almost like mysterious spirits, with elusive purposes and elusive aims and elusive goals. 

It's fascinating.

Their transparent bodies filter the rays of sunlight right through them, and it's a kind of glittering, crystalline wonder that Jeonghan has never been able to see before in the near-pitch black darkness of his kingdom. He finds himself awed, unable to take his eyes away even as you take his hand and draw him closer to the shoal. 

"Jellyfish have no brains, no hearts, bones, or eyes," you say. 

"Aw. That's actually really sad," Jeonghan says. "Imagine not having a heart." He pauses. "Oh, and no brain, too."

You smile. 

"They're actually mostly made of fluid and transparent muscles, which are the bell parts that you can see," you carry on, pointing to one jellyfish. "And these thin tentacles? They help the jellyfish catch their prey."

"How do they eat?" Jeonghan asks, confused. 

"They trap their prey in their tentacles, and then eat through the opening in the middle of their bell body," you say. "See? It's like their mouth is in the center."

"Huh."

"Do you wanna touch them? They're dangerous for humans, apparently, but I found out that they're pretty much harmless for us to touch."

Before you came into his life, Jeonghan lived almost entirely within the walls of his palace, surrounded by darkness, knowing and going no further than the surrounding cities. It was a miserable existence, to always be held on a leash, unable to stretch his fins and breathe in new water into his gills. 

But then came you. You stumbled into the palace gardens one day, all twitching whiskers and bright selkie eyes and a smile and an outstetched hand that promised new, bright, wonderful, fascinating. 

Jeonghan had grown up being told not to take risks, but taking your hand? 

That felt like coming home. 

You come to him randomly, with new facts and new adventures and every day he's with you feels like living a new life, witnessing the shimmer of aquamarine seas and vibrant coral reefs with his own eyes. It's exhilarating, makes the blood in Jeonghan's veins sing. And listening to your voice, filled with such eagerness and fondness, is more mesmerising than any siren song that even his father could conjure. 

"—not actually fish, you know? And they're pretty much harmless. Okay, maybe not totally harmless, but they don't bother you if you don't bother them."

You pause, then, because one jellyfish chooses that moment to bob upwards in a swirl of translucent jelly right into your face, and you scrunch your nose with a barking laugh. 

Jeonghan watches you, the smile widening on his face, before he pauses. 

Oh. 

He might be just a tiny bit in love with you. 

[gold-rhine]

You know, now that I’ve played the event I think Ayaka’s skin is revolutionary actually. Like, all skins before are pretty basic in conception and smth you could reasonably expect to see a character wearing. And it had to be tied to the event storyline, which also seems pretty limiting.

Like, Keqing and Ning got fancy new dresses for the Lantern rite, completely normal. Jean and Barbara are on summer islands vacation, they get summer swim suits, okay. Diluc got his old batman costume out for a ride, sure. Fischl is cosplaying her fav kinnie character, Lisa has a sumeru scholar uniform, nothing unexpected.

But like, Ayaka is cosplaying a French Nancy Drew because she was supposed to fight in a ritual dueling event with religious connotations, but the votes got mixed up with some manga popularity polls??? Like if THAT’s a valid reason for a skin, then ANYTHING is. Do u guys get it, EVERYTHING is on the table now, no matter how bullshit and the timing doesn’t need to make any sense.

Like you might expect a Hu Tao ghost skin on Halloween, given the spooky associations, but no, it’s Ayato dressed as a Dracula bc he’s doing some party for cultural exchange or whatever. He has an enormous cravat, purple cape and instead of boba, he’s drinking red wine from a fancy goblet, but still with a straw and he’s still slurping.

Heizou has to conduct an investigation on the cat island in a cat island event which you KNOW is coming one day, that’s too marketable to pass up, and you know how he likes to dress up to ~blend in~ with locals, so boom – Heizou in a catboy outfit. He’ll look super cute and can you imagine how funny his punching combat animations will look

I know we all want Venti’s whore Archon skin, but like no, there’s a Mond event where they celebrate Barbatos and they make Rosaria to dress up like his Archon outfit as like someone who will represent him from the church, but she makes it goth, so she looks like an undead fallen angel with black roses, dark feathers and shit.

Thoma seems like a no-brainer for a maid outfit, but he’s already a maid, that’s nothing new. Instead it’s Chide, bc he’s all about home and cooking and so on, but it’s the thriller movie maid, his outfit is just a little askew and ruffled and there are sus specks of red, and he has an idle where he twirls a huge bloodied butcher knife. His idle where he dramatically throw the scarf over the shoulder is changed for an animation of his just as dramatically fluffing up the skirts.

Beidou dressed as a sexy boxer bc she’s running some hand-to-hand combat event. Eldritch Kokomi skin after we finally get a new event in Enkanomiya. Alternatively, Enkanomiya event with Albedo since he got screwed over Dragonspine event this year, where he goes to investigate truth about ancient civilization and gets an ancient greek toga-inspired outfit, but sluttier. Lets go wild guys

[hoffstrap-yuri]

Primadonna Girl

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary:

“I haven’t said ‘I love you’ in almost twelve hours.” “What makes you say that now?” “Just… thinking about how I want to say I love you.” “I love you too.” Mark leaned in and kissed Strahm’s cheek. Strahm took his foot off the brake and looked into Hoffman’s eyes. “Pete?” “Let’s get married.” “Peter, are you crazy?” Hoffman laughed.

*Rating: +18 for Explicit Mature Content

*Tags/Content: Crack Treated Seriously, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Fluff, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, Feeding, Alternate Universe, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and Humor, Smut, Gratuitous Smut, PWP, Domestic

*Status: Chapter 1 of 2/Complete. Link to Chapter Two Here.

Author's Note: You voted, you got it! A request for @markhoffmanluster who wanted more feeding and more drag Hoffman. I could never refuse the two for Mark. Running that poll was really pretty fun, I'll have to do some more in the future. But here's a little sequel to the sequel of my Hoffstrahm fake dating AU, I hope you'll enjoy!

“I love you.” Strahm curled his hands around the ends of the wig that his partner wore for him. He pressed his lips onto his and kissed him. His hands shifted to his partner’s back, taking a hold of the thick love handles he loved so dearly. He needed to drink in every last bit of his being, needed to be one with his love.

“I love you too.” His love finally responded to him, biting down on the inside of Strahm’s lip. “I love you so much… You know your lips would look prettier wrapped around my dick.”

“Shut up.” Strahm replied sternly before cracking. He smiled like a dope at the object of his affection and ran his hand across his chest. He kissed the divot in Hoffman’s chest where his neck met with his torso and sucked

“I’m going to get looks at the precinct if you don’t move that stupid mouth of yours lower.” His hand glided through Strahm’s hair

“Wear a shirt that covers your tits.” Strahm’s lips hardly left the surface of Hoffman’s skin as he spoke. He dug his knee into the space between Hoffman’s legs while the other man grinded up into him. “I love…”

“Don’t say it again. You’re gonna wear it out.” Mark’s arms wrapped his arms around the back of his neck. Strahm lifted the wig up from off Hoffman’s head and kissed along the indent in his forehead.

“I need you.”

“Need me how?” Hoffman raised an eyebrow, “You can have me right now.”

“No I mean… I need your everything.”

“You’re not making any damn sense, babe.”

“That’s okay… it’ll make sense.” Strahm sat next to Hoffman and wrapped an arm around his back

“So you just turned me on for nothing?” Hoffman teased him, palming at Strahm’s crotch.

“I can take care of you…” Strahm sat up a little before being pushed back down by the tips of Hoffman’s fingers

“No, it’s fine.” Hoffman kissed him, “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He nodded and lazily kissed his partner back. Hoffman rolled onto Strahm’s lap and looked into his eyes. “We need to go to bed.”

“Five more minutes.” Strahm grumbled, burying his head into the crook of Hoffman’s shoulder

“No.” Hoffman hauled himself up off Strahm’s lap then helped him up onto his feet. Strahm hadn’t realized how tired he was until he swayed as he stood and his eyes fluttered. Hoffman helped him to their bed and laid at his side. His fingers found their way through Mark’s hair and in turn Mark ran his hand over Strahm’s stomach.

“I love you…” Strahm whispered, his voice muffled by the pillow his head was rested against

“I love you too.” Hoffman rested his head against the taller man’s shoulder. Strahm’s arms looped around Hoffman’s stomach and he held onto him like the slightest crack in his touch would make Mark slip from his fingers. The light woke the special agent up in the morning and he lifted his head up to look for Hoffman. As if his partner read his mind, he appeared at the foot of their bed.

“Your turn.”

“Huh?”

“The shower. We have to go to work, Agent.”

“Yeah…”

“You seem distracted.” Hoffman’s hand crept up the inside of Strahm’s thigh

“Yeah, you have that effect on me.” Strahm shot back before getting up. He turned the water on but left it as cold as he could stand it, trying to kill the morning wood he had. He was going to do it. He was going to propose. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought about it. Would Mark tell him he’d gone to far with their ruse? That he went off the deep end? He had the ring at the ready, he had a dinner reservation for the weekend… Mark knocked on the door,

“C’mon, we’re going to hit traffic if you stay in there.”

“I didn’t say you had to stay.” Strahm bit back a little

“Who else was going to tell your spoiled ass to keep moving?” Strahm heard Hoffman step away from the door. He dabbed on some aftershave and stepped out into the bedroom. His clothes were lying neatly on the bed and he could smell Mark working the toaster in the kitchen. He hurried into the outfit and shuffled downstairs as fast as he could, picking his shoes up from the entryway to throw on while he waited for his toast. The pieces popped out, and Hoffman grabbed them before throwing it onto a plate. Strahm finished tying his shoes before taking a bite and pressing his lips onto his partner’s cheek. Rather than focus on the food, Peter’s arms found their way around Hoffman’s center.

“You’re even more affectionate than usual. Hurry up.”

“We don’t have to rush. Lindsey knows.”

“I know she knows.” Mark rolled his eyes, “She wouldn’t be a very good agent if it’s taken her five months to realize her previously frigid co-worker was dating their point of contact.”

“I…” Strahm tried to rebuttal but couldn’t come up with anything more than a slightly disappointed “Yeah” at himself. His arm tightened its grip around Hoffman while his hand slid up the other man’s chest and rested against his cheek. “Let’s go out this weekend.”

“Out or out?” Mark put emphasis on the latter option

“Like I want to see your fat ass in a tight dress.” His lips hovered over Hoffman’s neck before pulling back. If they touched now, Perez wouldn’t see the two for another business day.

“It’s a date then.” Hoffman’s thumb ghosted over his boyfriend’s lips. Strahm looked down at the appendage before applying the softest of kisses onto it. Ever the romantic, Mark brought his thumb up to his own mouth and connected their kiss. “Let’s get to work.”

---

“Hey Pete. We need to talk.” Perez said as soon as Strahm walked in to their make-shift office that wasn’t so make-shift anymore.

“And a ‘good morning’ to you too.” He replied, dragging his hand across his face. He hadn’t realized just how tired he still was back at Hoffman’s house. He wishes he had listened to Hoffman about hurrying up so he had time to grab coffee before coming in. “What is it?”

“It’s about Detective Hoffman.”

“Yes?”

“I know you’ve been dating him, but we haven’t had time to talk about it. Every time I’m like ‘hey you want to go and get coffee’ you reply with something about him.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m not hurt.” She shrugged, “I’m happy you’ve found someone willing to deal with your anal tendencies.”

“I don’t have anal tendencies.”

“Peter.” She looked at him with the look of a mother ready to scold her child

“What?” He asked before more exasperatedly asking, “What?”

“For one, you fixate on something someone says and use that to try and circumvent the issue at hand.”

“I do not do…” He paused as he had a moment of self-awareness. He chose to keep his mouth shut after that.

“Uh huh.” Lindsey grinned, basking in her smug satisfaction of being proven ever so right. “But really, how is it?”

“How’s what?” He responded after logging into the work computer, “You mean the sex or…”

“Ew. No.” She gagged, “No I mean how’s the relationship going? He treat you well?”

Strahm started with a sigh, “Well he treats me like an ATM.”

“And you just let him? Talk about whipped.” She laughed mostly to herself, “Is Peter Strahm in there? Mister ‘I’m not buying a second ring for my second wife’?”

“That’s different.” He protested

“Uh huh.” She replied before Strahm shoved his head onto the desk. He didn’t want to look Perez in the eyes as he pulled his box of shame out from his pocket. “Oh my god, are you two that serious and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’m that serious.”

“Then you don’t know how he feels? Peter, I love you, but this is just asking for divorce number three.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” He tucked the box back into his pants, hiding the growing red flush across his face.

“Just think about it a little bit. Okay?”

“Think about what?” Hoffman’s booming voice crackled behind the two FBI agents

“His coffee order. I’m running to Starbucks. You want anything?” Perez answered for her partner

“Flat white. Venti.” He replied. He closed the distance between himself and Strahm. He rested his hand along Strahm’s shoulder before saying, “You look dead tired. It’s a good thing Lindsey here cares about you.”

“Yeah, she’s got the patience of a saint for dealing with me.” Strahm grumbled, barely lifting his head up from his shame huddle.

“I do. What do you want, Pete?”

“Red eye’s fine.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. In the meantime, you can pour over those files I have on my desk.”

“Got it.” He replied, sliding his chair away from Hoffman and over to Lindsey’s work space. He stole a small stack and handed Hoffman a similar sized stack to sift through. She turned around and headed out to get their drinks. Hoffman flipped through a file before interrupting Strahm’s concentration.

“I do have a job, Agent.” Hoffman set the file folders down on Strahm’s desk, “I’m your liaison, sure, but I do have work for the police department to do as well.” His words were bitter, but his voice was cloyingly sweet.

“Then go do your job.” Strahm huffed, “Simple solution really.”

“I don’t want to. Not right now anyway.”

“Then don’t bitch to me about it.”

“Easy Agent.” His hand rested firmly on the center of Strahm’s chest before he started circling with his fingertips, “Wouldn’t want you popping a blood vessel in that pretty face of yours.”

“Did you come here to kiss me or just piss me off?” Strahm leaned against his desk

“If I said it was both?” Hoffman smirked

“I’d tell you to go fuck yourself. I have a job to do.” Strahm threw the words back at his partner. Despite the malice laced in the words, Mark knew that Peter was all bark and no bite. He leaned in and kissed Strahm’s cheek before turning away from him. Strahm pulled him back by his wrist for one quick proper kiss on the lips before letting Hoffman slink back to his bullpen. Strahm stared at the clock in the corner of the computer. Mark was eating at his mind. His touches, the way his mouth crinkled when he tried not to smile, the way he made looking like a woman attractive… he hated him with such passion it twisted itself into an intense, perverse love. There wasn’t anyone in the world that made Peter feel this way, he had the trail of divorce papers in his path to prove it. He knew that Mark Hoffman was the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, it was just that simple to him. Lindsey came back with their drinks, dropping the red eye in front of Peter.

“How much work did you get done?”

“I flipped through a few files.” He replied, bringing the cup to his lips before taking a tentative sip. Thank god the coffee wasn’t scalding hot.

“Uh huh.” She looked the pile, “I guess three file folders over twenty minutes isn’t that bad. Let’s see if you actually retained any of that info though.” She reached over him and pulled up a document where they had been logging info for the case. She brought her arms back to her body and crossed them in front of her, waiting for Strahm to regurgitate anything. He sweated as he hit the keys for a quick ‘the’ before going back and deleting everything. ‘The victim’ and back. “You didn’t read anything.”

“No.” He sighed

“You were thinking about Hoffman?”

“Yeah.” He let out a pathetic croak

“You’re useless.” She smiled and took the folders back off Strahm’s desk and got into her own work for the day. At some point in the day, the special agent passed out. He woke up in the dead of night, Hoffman sitting across from him.

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah.” Strahm grumbled. He sat up and the suit jacket that was draped over his shoulders slid. He quickly grabbed it to prevent it from falling on the floor, knowing that Mark’s taste in menswear far exceeded Strahm’s wallet. He tucked himself back up into the larger garment, sniffing the collar to feel closer to his partner. Hoffman got up from Lindsey’s chair and came to wrap his arms in front of Strahm’s neck.

“I don’t normally get to see you sleep. You looked so peaceful not barking out orders.”

“I don’t bark out orders.”

“No, you just like dressing them up like dolls and fucking with them in hotel rooms.”

“Are we still talking about orders?”

“Maybe.” Hoffman’s lips curled up at the ends

“What time is it?”

“About 7:30. I’ve already called in an order at our Chinese place, I’ll go inside if you drive me there.”

“Okay, okay.” Strahm wiped the tired from his eyes and got into his car. He didn’t realize how warm he felt when he heard Hoffman call it ‘their’ restaurant. They had… a pattern, something tangible. Hoffman slid into the passenger seat and reached his hand over, letting it rest on Strahm’s lap. “I haven’t said ‘I love you’ in almost twelve hours.”

“What makes you say that now?”

“Just… thinking about how I want to say I love you.”

“I love you too.” Mark leaned in and kissed Strahm’s cheek. Strahm took his foot off the brake and looked into Hoffman’s eyes. “Pete?”

“Let’s get married.”

“Peter, are you crazy?” Hoffman laughed. Strahm didn’t know if this would be the end of everything if he kept going but he needed to get his feelings out there. He pulled the box from his pocket and presented it to Mark. “You are crazy.”

“This isn’t how I planned it…” He started to apologize, only to be quieted by Mark’s lips pressed onto his. His hands hovered over Hoffman’s back for a second before his partner pulled away.

“Put it on.”

“Okay.” Strahm fumbled a bit, pulling the ring from its holder and slipped it onto Hoffman’s finger. It was a simple band, but it looked so right on his finger.

“What was your plan, hm?” Hoffman couldn’t peel his eyes away from the ring

“I was going to take you to a nice restaurant and propose there.”

“Who’s saying we can’t still do that?” Hoffman shared a glance with Strahm. “Just take my ring back before we get in the restaurant, we propose and get a free dessert or something.”

“Okay.” Strahm had to laugh, the idea was so stupid, but he was willing to indulge. The two of them sat in silence for a moment before Strahm put his foot back on the brake and drove to the restaurant. Hoffman slid back out of the car as they arrived, his hand brushing over Strahm’s while Strahm put the car into park. He didn’t need to touch the agent’s hand like that, but he wanted to. He looked at his partner before going in and getting their food. Strahm waited, covering his face with his hand. He’d done it. Truly gone off the deep end. He prayed that Mark wasn’t gushing to the cashier about the ring right now as they had a spirited back and forth he could see from the car. Mark Strahm. Peter Hoffman? Mark Strahm-Hoffman… that could work, if Hoffman liked it that is. Mark came back with a slightly stained brown bag and collapsed into Strahm’s car.

“It smells so good.” He opened the bag up and stuck his whole head in.

“Don’t breathe all over my egg foo young.” Strahm gagged, pulling his head back by the roots of his hair. Hoffman bit his lip as the agent accidentally ended up slamming his head into the car headrest with more force than he intended. “Don’t tell me you’re getting turned on right now?”

“I don’t know. Something about it is hotter when I can call you my fiance.”

“Fiance?” Peter repeated the word with a slight stutter. It felt so right coming from Hoffman’s lip and caressing his ear.

“Just get us home.” Hoffman’s hand laid on its favorite spot along the inside of Strahm’s thigh. Strahm sped out of the lot and drove them home. Hoffman carefully brought the bag of food in before tossing it onto the table in front of their couch. “Do I need to get a dress on, or can you fuck me like the man that I am?” Strahm hooked his hands under Hoffman’s ass and picked him up, shoving him into a wall.

“That answer your question?” Strahm’s teeth sunk into the skin of the detective’s neck. Hoffman wrapped his legs around Strahm’s back and rested his hands behind Strahm’s head. He thrusted his hips up into Strahm’s center, desperately looking for friction. “Wait.”

“What?”

“Let me feed you while we do this.”

“Fucking perv.”

“Shut up. You’re engaged to this perv.” Peter threw it back in Mark’s face. He carefully let go of Hoffman, making sure his feet were planted on the floor before letting go of his back. He sat down at the couch and patted the spot next to him, unrolling the folds of the paper bag. Normally Strahm would ask Hoffman if he felt like starting with the egg rolls or his sesame chicken, but he didn’t have the time. He pulled a roll from the paper wrapper and pressed it up against Mark’s lips for him to eat. Hoffman took a slow bite, only for Strahm to adjust his position on the couch, leaning over Hoffman just a bit more. With one hand pressed into the center of Hoffman’s chest, Strahm forced Hoffman to eat the next bite just a little bit faster, and faster until the roll was gone. He pulled his hands away from Hoffman to get the container of fried rice from the bag. He fumbles with the tabs keeping the container sealed for a moment before taking one of the spoons from the bag and shoving it into the mountain of rice before them. “Think you can eat this whole thing and your chicken?”

“What are you going to eat?” Hoffman acted coy. He took the spoon that hovered in the space between him and Strahm and brought it up to his mouth, wrapping his fingers around Strahm’s for a second while he swallowed. He let go to let Strahm feed him some more of the side. He polished the fried rice without even a sweat, and Strahm pulled the chicken from the bag. It was lukewarm at best, but neither of them cared. Hoffman was hungry, and Strahm wanted to see his partner’s stomach bulge as he scarfed down a meal for two. He finished the sesame chicken before his head could register that he was full, so he asked “What else can you fit in me?”

“Here.” Peter broke into his egg foo young and slathered gravy onto it before shoving it into Mark’s face. Mark licked the gravy off the edge of Strahm’s fingers as he ate the other man’s food happily. His stomach gurgled, alerting the two that he had reached capacity and Strahm’s fingers slowly sunk in to the taut skin. He slowly massaged as Hoffman’s head started slowly catching up.

“Fuck.” He let out a low grumble. Strahm continued to work on moving his fingers in soothing circles over the distended belly that hung over Hoffman’s pants and rested on top of his lap ever so slightly. Strahm’s mouth worked over Hoffman’s jawline like a dog chewing on a bone. Hoffman leaned back, pressing his stomach further into Strahm’s chest as he titled his head and brought Strahm’s lips back to his. Strahm pulled away to get a breath and pull at Hoffman’s belt. It fought against Mark’s bulk until it lay on the floor next to them. He quickly undid the button of his pant and ran his fingers over the red indent that button had made on the underside of Mark’s belly.

“You’re so fucking handsome.” Strahm growled against Mark’s cheek, “Fucking Christ…” Hoffman wrapped his arms around Peter’s back and worked his legs around Peter’s hips. Strahm unzipped his fly as quick as his shaky fingers would let him and pulled his dick out. He unhooked Mark for a second to grab lube from their bedroom and threw the bottle into Mark’s hand. Hoffman eagerly coated his hand in the substance before giving Strahm a couple of quick pumps. Strahm leaned over Hoffman and pressed his lips against the other man’s neck. Hoffman took his clean hand and ran it through the slicked back hair of Strahm’s. Strahm asked, “Ready?”

“Ready.” Hoffman kissed Strahm’s lips before Strahm thrusted into him. He made a grunt as he thrusted harder into his partner, not giving Hoffman any time to adjust if he needed to. Mark’s fingers trailed up along Strahm’s back and dug in slowly to just below Peter’s shoulder blades. He rolled his back ever so slightly, getting Hoffman’s hands into a more comfortable spot as his pace sped up. Strahm’s lips hovered over Hoffman’s for a second, waiting for the moan in the back of Mark’s throat to come out from his mouth before re-establishing a second form of contact between their bodies.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Hoffman’s teeth tugged on the inside of Strahm’s lip as his eyelids flickered shut, getting that much closer to cumming onto Strahm’s chest.

“Fuck…” Strahm came into Hoffman, not stopping his motions until he was completely spent. He used a hand to help Hoffman finish. He made a grunt underneath Strahm as he released, his lips quivering as Strahm drew out his orgasm for as long as Mark could take.

“Fuck.” Hoffman carefully readjusted the two of them so he could sit up on the couch and cupped Strahm’s face between his hands.

“I love you.” Strahm said in a low voice

“Love you too.” Hoffman leaned in and kissed him, running his thumb over Strahm’s cheek. They held onto each other for a moment before Hoffman asked, “What do you want for dinner?”

“Do we even have anything here? I thought that was the point of getting take out.” Strahm’s nose buried into the crook of Hoffman’s neck.

“I can probably throw together eggs and toast or something.” His nose rested against Strahm’s head

“I could throw that together myself.” Strahm bickered

“Just shut up and let me make it for you.”

“Fine.” He unwrapped himself from Mark and let his fiance leave his side. He flipped the TV on and waited for his meal in silence. Hoffman came back about ten minutes later with a decent sized plate and handed it to Strahm. Strahm pulled the bulkier man back down to his side and ate his dinner in silence. He set the plate down on the coffee table and wrapped an arm around Hoffman’s back, resting his other hand on the other man’s stomach. Hoffman brought his hand with the engagement ring up to Strahm’s lips. Strahm took his hand, curling Hoffman’s fingers around his and pressing his lips just above where the ring sat.

“I love you.” Hoffman’s lips hovered over Strahm’s head as he said the words

“I love you too.” Strahm replied. Strahm let go of Mark’s hand and rested his hand on his partner’s stretched abdomen once more, rubbing gentle circles over it.

“When are we getting married?” Hoffman asked him

“When can we sneak off to Atlantic City?” Strahm laughed to himself

“I think I can get away for a weekend in the next month.” Hoffman answered. His fingers gently ruffled the front of Strahm’s hair before his thumb ran over the smoothed skin of Strahm’s face scar. Strahm’s heart pounded in his chest. “The question is do you want me to wear a dress or a tux?”

“Let’s go to bed.” Strahm got up and started walking towards their bedroom

“Mrs. Marka Strahm.” Hoffman said with a satisfied smirk, following his partner as Strahm’s face grew redder than Rudolph's nose.

[wine-cooper]

Intro

Smuggling info

Lore information

Kill count: 18(The system has Miss counted retry later)

(BASIC INFO)

Name- Cooper frank Nicknames- Cherry pop , (please give ideas) Age- 17 birthday is October 20 Gender- Female Nationality- America Home state- Tennessee Occupation- Camp smuggler Sexuality- Asexual, Poly,Panromantic

(LOOKS)

Hair Color- Dark wine red Eye Color- Brown Height- 5’7 Weight- 139 pounds Generally Wears- Hoodies/ tank tops with shorts Is Less Likely To Wear- Crop top, sweater , jeans , Clothes with a lot of white on them

(RELATIONS)

Mother-Unknown (Adoptive @aripxllo) Father- Dionysus

Brother(s)- @likeapriceless-wine (Name copy ? Or am I the copy?)

@the-wine-twins (Strawberry and clear )

@hotrussianserialkiller (Snowy :3 please stop killing people)

@im-always-highhhh ( Claws :3 I am so funny )

@ravensonofdionysus (RAVE lol :3

(and any others i don’t know the url of )

Sister(s)-

@winekid-halfblood (I don’t know a lot about you why do I not know a lot about my sisters??)

@clio-daughter-of-dionysus (We have similar hair colors ❤️ and she has so much more relationship drama then me )

@elphie-daugter-of-dionysus (I don’t know a lot about you :( )

@cabin-12-resident-daddy-issues (YAY :3 MORE SISTERS WE WILL WIN THE WAR )

(and any others I don’t know the url of )

Sibling(s)-

@muscalfoxes (I barely interact with you but here you ❤️❤️)

(and anyone else I don’t know the URLs of )

Partners: I have two lovely girlfriends Alex rushman daughter of hebe and Symphony hollow

@silent-sightless-war

Favorite TV Shows- F.R.I.E.N.D.S Favorite Foods- Corn and Bagels Favorite Music-Alternative, pop and hard rock Favorite Possessions Owned- A plush jaguar Other Favorite Things- Cats, Lollipops Things Disliked- Apollo @ex-god-apollo , @the-sun-on-your-skin

(This is a work in progress lol I am trying my best to get this fixed up nice and tidy)

Other people? Green-My creator speaking

Red- My girlfriend Symphony speaking

Pink- My other girlfriend Alex speaking

\\TAGS// Cooper smuggles : Rp

Mod drinks: Me the mod speaking

Coopers questions: asks

Cooper polls: any polls I host on this account

(Wonderful moodboard made by @daonedaonlyskh )

(This wonderful mood board is made by @love-lightning-forethought ❤️ )

[azure-firecracker]

X-Files Masterpost

This post will be a central location where y’all can locate all of the X-Files content I make on this blog. Hopefully it makes it easier for things to be found! The goal is to update semi-regularly, but it will not always be 100% up to date. Also bear in mind that I am a first-time watcher, so please refer to my most recent posts if you want to know where I am in the show. I hope this is helpful!

My favorite thing about this fandom is how friendly y’all are, so please feel free to come to me with questions about any of my TXF stuff, fic or meta requests, random asks, or anything at all:)

My X-Files Fanfic

I have a general rule of not replying to comments for mental health reasons, but if you read these, know that I cherish every single comment and they often make my day, so please consider commenting if you enjoy:)

Beneath the Ice, Beneath My Skin (Teen and Up, 9,984 words): My first fic! An alternate version of Ice where Mulder is actually infected by the parasites. Paranoia and tension ensue!

Flight and Sanctuary (Teen and Up, 6,656 words): Scully and Mulder deal with the aftermath of Irresistible. Lots of angst, lots of worry, lots of hurt/comfort. As of the creation of this post, this is my most popular fic.

(And FANART! By @scullysmywife ! Yippee!)

Salvation (Teen and Up, 7,599 words): Mulder’s perspective during his missing scenes in The Erlenmeyer Flask, followed by how he and Scully cope with the trauma. Very angsty featuring some torture. 2 chapters: one during the episode, one after. The chapters can be read individually or together.

Save Me from the Fire (Teen and Up, 5,672 words): An alternate version of Our Town where Mulder and Scully switch places. Very tense, but also very heartfelt and tender (I hope). A personal favorite of mine.

Piece Me Together (General Audiences, 3,147 words): Scully takes care of Mulder post-731. Introspection and moments of extreme proximity ensue. Probably the most introspection-heavy fic I’ve written.

Caught on Tape (Teen and Up, 4,044 words): Scully finds tapes that Mulder made for her while she was abducted. Very emotional, almost pure angst with a bittersweet ending.

Raise Your Voices (Teen and Up, WIP): My ongoing multi-chapter fic in which Mulder and Scully go undercover in a community choir. Set in Season 2, featuring lots of fluff, humor, angst, hurt/comfort, and little tidbits about folk music from all corners of the world.

(And FANART! By the amazing @scullysmywife !)

Fic Rec Roundup (Seasons 1-3): Favorite fics I’ve read.

My Season Reviews

Season 1

Season 2

Season 3

Individual Episode Takes

Deep Throat

Irresistible

End Game

Anasazi

Syzygy

Wetwired

Memento Mori

Small Potatoes

Meta

Mulder + Scully + Saving Each Other

Intelligence Comparison

Mulder + Scully + Needing Saving

Season 2 Abduction Arc

The Problem with Season 2

Conversation on the Rock

What they Need to Hear: Irresistible vs. Teliko

Bringing Him Back to Life

Polls

Are You More Like Mulder or Scully?

Favorite Season

Hyperspecific Poll (X-Files Edition!)

TXF x Songs

MSR x Gracie Abrams Songs

MSR x Billie Eilish

Miscellaneous

Mulder + Scully being lousy at their jobs ( +Addendum)

Acknowledging Scully + Mulder’s good agent-ing in Season 1

Fanfiction Writers Made TXF

Why I love MSR

X-Files Episode Locations Game

My Camp Roommate’s Reaction to TXF

Criticizing the Score (+ Accompanying Meme)

Scully the “Rational One”

X-Files Ask Game

[fanterfane]

Welcome to the Star Pride! (Sketch)

Here's a thing I've been working on with OccPixTFs (https://www.deviantart.com/occpixtfs)! Fayne beefcake lionification/twinning into Pix's OC Leo! Fayne had never really been a fan of old console games... Especially from consoles older than he was by more than a third of his lifespan. He'd just never understood the appeal of them, with their strange 8-bit graphics and esoteric genres. But when the local game shop closed down they had a closing sale where everything had to go, he had some spare time so figured he might as well give it a chance! The store owner seemed especially keen on getting rid of a specific Sega Genesis and a game for it named Star Pride Voyagers... (https://www.deviantart.com/occpixtfs/art/Star-Pride-Voyagers-199X-Mockup-Pixel-Art-959597243) He gave Fayne such a discount that he got the cartridge AND the console for just 20 bucks! What a steal!! It was honestly too good to be true... He took it home and with some effort, removed it from it's unassuming packaging. It was wrapped in a way that made it seem like they wanted to keep whatever was inside in, rather than keep it safe from whatever was outside... Which was strange to him but Fayne tried not to overthink it like he usually does. When he launched the game and dusted off the old console, the ginger boy was hit with a loud intro, narrated by a campy sounding macho lion! Sitting down, Fayne prepared for a blast from a past he'd never seen before! "Welcome to Star Pride Voyagers! We can see you're new here, but you've got the courage and power of a lionhearted Captain~! After this Training Tutorial, you'll be an ace pilot in no time!" Played the crispy ancient audio from his speakers... Sending a chill up the boy's spine. It was a strange intro, for sure. But Fayne wasn't worried at all until the console started crackling, and he felt static in the air. Then, he started to grow... and grow... and then bluish fur appeared on his skin and he knew he was in for it! Fayne had heard before that a group of lions is a pride, but he definitely wasn't ready to experience a lion's pride firsthand! Now he just needed to find his flightsuit...and his ship, for that matter~ This is probably one of the gayest things I've ever drawn. It took a lot of willpower for me to get myself to make a true male on male transformation/corruption piece with a masculine framing, but it worked out in the end! Tell me what you think. Is it too far for your tastes? Or are you happy to explore new things? I for one am excited to learn more about masculinity and gender in a positive way!! Originally finished in September 2023!

If you like the art I make and have decided that you want to support me and help create more of it, please consider joining my Patreon at www.patreon.com/FanterFane for all of these benefits and more!

Preview all completed art at least two weeks or more before it's publicly posted!

View early sketches of all the things I'm working on! (On Discord)

Vote in monthly Patreon-only polls!

Participate in semi-monthly Patreon Sketch Request Streams!

Access to the Patreon-only section of my discord server!

Commission discounts!

And my eternal gratitude!

Alternatively, if Patreon isn't your style, you can also support me via a tip on ko-fi.com/fanterfane, or by subscribing on fanterfane.fanbox.cc!

[starqueensthings]

Hi pals!

I’ll still be travelling when you’re seeing this and haven’t watched the finale, so I don’t have any new content to share, but last week (maybe longer? I don’t know— rainforest brain lol) I posted a poll asking if anyone was interested in seeing a snippet of my editing process, so here it is feat. possibly one of my favourite Wrecker moments.

I use a myriad of different software depending on: my mood, what computer/tablet I’m using, what the image looks like, and how much energy I’m willing to put into it lol In this video, I’m using Lightroom on my iPad.

The three main factors I look mostly closely at when I’m editing shots are 1. lighting, 2. noise, and 3. resolution (read: clarity).

This image required pretty minimal work so it’s probably not the best example, but ah well. The process in the above video is as follows, and please note the video had been sped up to 2x for file size reasons lol

The first thing I’ll do is see what the auto edit function defaults to. Often times it overexposes the image, resulting in significant colour noise, but it gives me a decent idea of what I should expect in terms of colour corrections and exposure mapping. The auto edit function wasn’t terrible in this case, but did produce some colour noise, mainly on Wrecker’s chest plate, his sleeves, and the officers hat. Once I’m done the initial scope out, I’ll exposure the image as high as possible to crop it— usually with the subject being as centered as possible.

This software lets the user tweak the bones of the image individually in three ways, all of them very quickly demonstrated here. The first is the curve method which I despise and NEVER use— because it alters multiple aspects at once, I don’t feel like I have the same degree of control as the other methods. Next is HDR setting (the default upon import) using the sliders on the right. This is effective for images that are already pretty well lit, and does give me a little more control, but most of the time because the screenshots are so dark, I’m editing in SDR mode.

Once I’m satisfied with the exposure/lighting, I’ll move on to correcting colour distortion and saturating the image. This software also provides three methods for colour alternation and I’ll typically use all three in conjunction with each other. Colour mixing is extremely crucial when it comes to reducing odour noise and distortion. Because this software lets me isolate certain colours to adjust their hue, saturation, and luminance, I can typically reduce most of or all of the colour noise. However, it does have its limitations. In this particular post, desaturating the colour noise in Crosshair’s rifle coincided with blanching his skin tone, because this software does not let me isolate certain areas of an image. It was also important to me to emphasize the warm tones from the sunset in the background for the overall mood of the shot, so I opted to remove what colour noise I could and leave the rest. (You can’t win em all… especially when the starting image is near-black lol)

Correcting the colour distortion in this image was not particularly difficult, desaturating all purple tones removed the noise from his chest plate, and shifting green tones to something near a yellow instead removed the noise from his sleeve. I didn’t notice the colour noise on the officers hat until a little later, but that was pretty easily corrected too.

Once I’ve fixed the colour noise, I’ll shift to toning the overall image. Wrecker particularly looks good in cool tones, but It’s nice to contrast a cool tone background with the warmth of his skin.

Once the toning is done, I’ll move on the image clarity. I don’t have the means to alter the actual resolution of the image, but I’m particularly picky with balancing texture and clarity. Wrecker always looks the best with texture and clarity increased, because it brings out the scarring on his face and further humanizes him, but overdoing the texture can also emphasize pixelation. Once that’s done, I’ll reduce the overall noise only slightly (doing too much makes them look airbrushed and unnatural), and whatever is left of the colour noise (too much of this setting makes them look like ghouls LOL)

This software also offers a series of preset alterations/filters briefly shown in this video… but I’m not the biggest fan of any of them. I’m a bit of a control freak and would rather tweak each aspect individually to the degree that I like, instead blanketing the image with present modifications and then undoing certain aspects.

Before exporting the image I’ll do another once over and make sure I’m happy! In this case, I opted to go back in and add some darker tones back into the image. I don’t do this often, particularly when they start so damn dark, but I wanted to keep the focus centrally on Wrecker’s radiance lol

That’s about it. If I’m working on multiple edits in a set, this software lets me just copy and paste the settings, so the following images only require extremely light tweaks and take almost no time. And that, I’ll export, autograph, and upload!

Thank you for attending this unprofessional Ted Talk.

[verycharismaticdragon]

On Air Island - chapter 1 - part 3

[prev] - [story so far] - [next]

In today's installment, we are unfortunately hitting one issue this game has, which is that the quality of translation sporadically drops in some branches. Now is a good time to remember that this is a Korean indie game with a developer team that fits into one single screen in the credits. Fortunately though ya boy Dragon has been handling mtl for ages and knows exactly how to make it yield actual result instead of garbled nonsense, so I added the translation to the video and the 'script 👍 Lemme know if this format works!

(the transcript is available below the poll, under keep reading)

Ah right: A.H.M, Shishinao, and Shirashinao are all~ Naoto's nicknames. I'm pretty sure that's also a translation thing, but it's way funnier like this? Let's give him a few more. Naonao~

Anyway,

Transcript legend:

In-game text

Character speaking: dialogue line

regular chat message Donation: donation message

available donation messages

{ Alternative translation }

———— ———— ————

Hanse: The result for the 1st day settlement is! Mr. Fact in the 1st place and Honari for 2nd place!

[player] donated 50 Small Heart: (Voice) Hanse, don't be discouraged!

[Hanse, don't be discouraged!]

Predator: Ugh. Kissme3: Ha, ha, ha.

Hanse: ……………!

hasebuck: Ha, ha, ha. 9nine: Look how surprised he is hanmanse: He looks so cute...

Hanse: Wow......! I was surprised that you were able to post a voice message......

bbongGGu: Seems like he didn't know it So_yool: Adorbs

Hanse: But somehow...... Is it my mood? I feel like all eyes are on me......

Mr.Fact: You almost freaked me out? Don't freak out, it's only just begun. { What, huh? You almost got discouraged~? It's only the beginning, so don't get discouraged, yeah? }

jimjman: What is it? Wannable: ;; VivaViva: Why is he like that

Hanse: Ugh, I'm sorry, Mr.Fact......

OnlyHim: Hanse's expression is hardening in real time boksunga: Be mindful Mr. Fact;

Mr.Fact: Oh, but~ I'll never get to the top. You can't take a shot at me. Okay? { Oh, but~ Quit dreaming of getting to the top. You're no match for me. Okay? }

OnlyHim: <Chat deleted by cleanbot>. ASHA: He's so fake NARICHAN: He just live by his name, Mr. Fact

Honari: But they say to dream big, right?

hansevly: ?! Perish: Oh…?

Honari: Even if you can't. { Even if you can’t achieve it. }

kimbab: Be careful Hanse! PunchHim: This is exciting, someone bring me some popcorn. FactOppa: (nom nom nom)

Mr.Fact: What? You're interrupting me?

island: Is that you? RealFact: If you're rich and popular, you're older than me.

Mr.Fact: You're thick as a board~ You're not afraid of the stares? { Honari, you're thick-skinned~ Are you not afraid of the viewers' gazes? }

Elvis: Suddenly? UglyFace: Are you going to drag Honari here?

Honari: What? I have no idea what you're talking about......

Snitch: ... Fearless: I feel sorry for Nari… hanse1se: Do dum;;

Hanse: Okay, wait......

DUMMY: Refrain yoursel Hanse. outnow: I will ** yoiu if you touch Hanse!

DUCKACOON: What's all the noise, quack? We'll keep going, quack!

Steward: Hey MyMaster: So boring CLAPCLAP: Thank God

Mr.Fact: I'm not even in first place. { Ugh, you’re not the first place, what do you know. }

doremipa: Woah that's crossing the line tho hansefan: Do you think 1st place can do everything?

Honari: … … … … …

Hanse: Ha... ... ... ... ...

kimbab: Eeek Imcrazy: Maybe this is how he treats lower ranks

DUCKACOON: A decent meal was prepared for the middle ranks quack.

lalala99: So-so Thief Jin: Just so-so BeSlave: Hahhhaha So-so

Naoto: Why on earth would you give it such an unappealing name?

rusure: I'm losing my appetite haahaha Rolling: Is it that harsh? Know_all donated 20 Ordinary Clover: Yep! Let me explain so, Shishinao is Naoto Know_all donated 15 Small Spade: Rumour said that he resigned from a broadcasting company and started his own broadcast

Naoto: I mean, it's not exactly broadcast quality...... We'll see. Tomorrow, we'll go to the top. { Anyway, considering the level of the broadcast… Just wait and see. Tomorrow, I will move up to the top. }

Perish: Fighting~ Flos: What? Crying? NARILOL: Anyone think the rank won't be changed? Angelic: 1111111 180x181: 222222222 Know_all donated 20 Touching Diamond: Moreover there is a rumour saying that he is son of a politician, it's interesting fight between the father and son!

Alice: It's too overwhelming for me......!

Carat: But I'm pretty sure Hanse won't be number one. Melody23: What a fact we got here

Alice: Above all............... You're holding my meal as hostage!

c'monya: There was a rumour that Alice is come from a conglomerat family. Know_all donated 5 Amazing Diamond: She is an influencer going by the name ALICE KingCry: It's not a rumour, it's a fact. Know_all donated 10 Amazing Diamond: I don't really remember but i think she start knitting for a hobby and got famous

Alice: That's just so evil---!

BeAKing: She is offended? Imfather: Oh my god. LoveCute: She'll get home by helicopter then Know_all donated 15 Small Clover: Honeslty, if she is the daughter of the S Company's president, they might have support her

Hanse: So.... Naoto is the 3rd place, Alice is in the 4th place. But the gap in vote results between them is quite significant.

Igiveu: I wonder if she's ever had a good meal. koncijeu: No wonder she's so annoyed.

Is A.H.M okay?

Wow, ALICE has such a nice voice.*sarcasm*

(Voice) Hanse, don't be discouraged!

[myfaveisfuckable]

Wen Kexing:

look little evil babygirl who serves cunt everyday of his life. he lead a rebellion in like what is basically the mafia and killed his way to the top at like age 20 and then skinned the former leader alive before starting his reign of terror for like 8 years. like his nicknames are lunatic wen (given by his subordinates) and philanthropist wen (given by himself). he was ready to burn the whole world down but then met this homeless man and decided he could just burn some of the world so that way he could still be a housewife. his pussy game was so good that it gave back a man his will to live.

* canon in my heart* no pussy but he be serving cunt ngl

Viktor:

He's literally powerful enough to destroy the world and a canon bi trans king. Pre-transition, he made a woman realise she was gay. Post-transition, he helped his siblings defeat what's esentially a bunch of evil alternate versions of themselves in another universe. I probably couldn't fix him but we could make each other worse.

* CANON BAYBEE 🎉🎉

[original-character-championship]

Bracket G Round 1

Poll 12

Jhero Decedar (@scribespirare) vs. Kalamari & Magnapinna Talismani (@arcadian-vampire)

407. Jhero Decedar (@scribespirare)

He/Him

Jhero is a villain by choice after growing up a prince who should be heir to the throne, but instead is absolutely despised by (some) family and the court alike. He has a twin sister he switched places with as a child as they're both trans, and they guard this secret religiously. On top of that he's a powerful empath with no one to teach him how to control his powers. Constantly bombarded by other people's emotions, he turns to anger to drown them all out and as such is a vengeful, loud, violent child who, at 16, is sent away to a dilapidated castle as punishment for his behavior. Of course nobody realized he'd be seduced by and fall in love with the powerful eldritch ghost of a long dead king that lives there.

AKA the most entitled, angry 4'11 trans man you've ever met puts a powerful demon on a leash and plans world domination

5' foot tall, dark skin, blond hair, pink eyes, and the nastiest glare you've ever seen. Also freckles. So many adorable freckles

408. Kalamari & Magnapinna Talismani (@arcadian-vampire)

He/She/They/It, alternating Frequently

(They’re a DID system)

They're a funky wandering salesperson, trading goods that are definitely for sure obtained entirely legally, he promises!

Gender fuckery icon, moral compass comes down to 'would it be fun?', never seen without her masks- a smiling face for Kalamari, and a scowling face for Magnapinna- they manage to simultaneously be The Horrors and Endless Whimsy.

Its names come from 'squid served as food (calamari)', and 'the freakiest squid I've ever seen that 100% looks like it would serve YOU as food (magnapinna talismani squid)', because I'm autistic with a special interest in weird sea creatures. If he wins, she will Not shut up about it for the next eight million years.

[isqueedmyself]

The Bracket

Kate Stewart did not admit to watching television, at least not at work. At UNIT Headquarters, she was all business: alien threats and ancient undersea terrors and psychotic extraterrestrials in Number 10. One had to concentrate on the real things, not television.

Particularly not television featuring women who loved other women, beautiful women Kate's age who could do a sultry look that would have every pair of lesbian or bisexual knees in Unit HQ going totally wobbly.

Of course, that was probably just Kate's knees, but that was enough.

She was surfing the web on her phone, not wanting the browser history of her government computer to reflect her extracurricular explorations.

And what explorations! There was a bracket, a tournament-style voting arrangement for people to select their choice for the sexiest sapphic.

There were more than fifty of them, she saw as she scrolled through the options, and they were all gorgeous.

Well, not that one so much. Not the cartoon duck. Feathers on skin… Kate closed her eyes briefly, then snapped them back open.

No. Just no. Kate kept scrolling, kept enjoying one offering after another.

But… but that woman from the American teen show? The one Kate sometimes caught herself looking at in inappropriate ways when she watched certain episodes alone?

That woman was losing.

Losing two to one, to somebody's mother from a newspaper show from DECADES ago!

Honestly!

Kate shared the poll to several of her clandestine social media accounts, closed her phone and went back to work.

OOO

Osgood did not understand why her boss persisted in using her phone to surf the Internet at UNIT headquarters. It certainly bought her no privacy; UNIT monitored every communication in and out of the building, even the sandwich deliveries.

This, though, might prove embarrassing if it got out. Apparently the boss was a fangirl. A lesbian fangirl.

Osgood knew Kate had been married, and had met her ex-wife Valentina. She had seen her boss get into a lustful gaze with Missy from all the way across the room that had had the Doctor twisting in place until Osgood thought he might screw himself into the floor. Osgood had no illusions about Kate's sexuality, but she hadn't thought poultry would be on the menu. At least, not with the feathers still on.

But Kate was a fan of that long-legged redhead with the sultry voice and the tendancy to alternate the genders of the people she dated.

Maybe Kate liked freckles. Her blorbo certainly had a delightful array of them scattered across her breastbone. Osgood licked her lips, just a bit. Very nice.

But she was losing. She was losing the poll. She was going to be eliminated in the first round.

Well, not if Osgood could help it. She opened her secure browser and started her security penetration protocol.

OOO

"Miss Osgood?" Kate called. "Could you step in her for a moment? And close the door."

Uh-oh. Osgood followed Kate into her office. The images from the bracket were openly displayed on Kate's monitor.

"Network security has informed me that someone has been using UNIT bandwidth for unauthorized purposes, to wit, hacking a fan sight."

"Wow," said Osgood. "Who would do a thing like that?"

"No idea," said Kate. "I'd like you to look into it, though, and make very sure it doesn't happen again."

"Perhaps a certain degree of professional education might help," said Osgood. "Certain employees might not be aware that communications by any device over UNIT's network are open to inspection--tablets, phones, FitBits, everything."

"FitBits?" said Kate.

Osgood nodded sagely. "Some of the guys from IT nag me if my step count gets too low. This, though…."

"This is illicit," said Kate, "and it can't happen again."

"I'll take care of it, ma'am," Osgood assured her. On screen, the freckly redhead was now firmly in the lead in the first round. She would continue to pick up a substantial number of votes until the poll closed, unless someone shut down the worm Osgood had planted.

"She's very pretty," Osgood told her boss, who was looking at the screen.

"Yes, she is," said Kate. They both looked at the screen for a moment.

And then, somehow, Kate was looking into Osgood's eyes, and Osgood was sinking into those dark amber pools and feeling herself swept away, and away, and away.

A few moments later, Osgood came out of Kate's office and pulled the door closed. She held her head high and strode across the outer office, not meeting the eyes of anyone who might have anything to say about the furious blush burning across her cheekbones.