#I feel bad for her having to fight him!!!

[chuluoyi]

jealousy, jealousy...

- nanami kento x reader

your husband seems to be immune to jealousy, and you've pretty much convinced yourself that he just doesn't have it in him... or does he?

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, jealous!nanami (he is in denial), implied suggestive content, mentions of pregnancy, gojo cameo (i just can't pass up the chance of him annoying the heck out of nanami ahaha)

note: based on this ask, this is a little continuation to the secret wife! and this is in the same universe as love entries so gojo is married to the love entries reader! :)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

By all means, Nanami Kento is not a jealous man.

He knows his worth. And he knows you. Out of all people, you wouldn't try anything with anyone.

Even more so with Ino. He knows him too, and there is just no way.

So... he really shouldn't get riled up, especially when it was his shitty senior who tried to set him on fire—

"It's still beyond me, how you managed to bag her," Gojo remarked with a bark of snort. Both of them shared the same table in this high-end bar, an afterparty for the school's graduation, but Nanami was seriously considering to move after Yaga left earlier until this clown came. "And keep her a secret too. I mean, that's so foul! If I were your wife, I'd divorce you on the spot."

Nanami threw him a pointed look. "The feeling is mutual. I feel bad for her for putting up with you too. And please don't be gross and say things like you being my wife. It's appalling."

Gojo's wife being his close friend and former classmate was what foul, Nanami thought. Sure, he would acknowledge Gojo's relentless efforts, but still, anyone willing to be this shameless paintbrush's wife must lead a really daring life.

The strongest sorcerer rolled his eyes. "Nah, I'll have you know that my married life is full of bliss. I have a proof, look at my—"

"If you want to show me hickeys, I'll seriously report you for harassing me."

And to that, Gojo merely whined and pursed his lips, and Nanami finally had some peace. He really entertained the thought of going back, because Gojo wasn't exactly a fun company, and this was getting late, until…

"Hey, Ino—the one who always follows you around," Gojo suddenly said. "Whoa, you're letting him close to your wife too, huh?"

Nanami whipped his head to where you were, and true to what Gojo said, you were indeed there, talking animatedly to his junior.

You were all smiles, and Ino was every bit as excited as you were. There was nothing remotely wrong with how you were conversing. You two looked like a pair of really, really good friends.

Ever since word of your marriage got out and became common knowledge, you've been receiving the kind of attention that Nanami wasn't sure he preferred. While he hadn't intended to keep it a secret, he certainly felt that a more private life was preferable.

But the thing was… weren't you too close with him? If it were up to him, Ino could've had at least two steps back. What were you discussing anyway?

"You're a lax husband, Nanamin, heh," Gojo whistled, totally grinning because he won this fight. "I know you probably think it's harmless, but a puppy is still a dog, you know~"

A puppy... is what?

That night, that phrase was what going through in his mind over and over as he chugged down his drinks.

No way, no way... It must have been because he had too much to drink. He couldn't possibly!

The next time he felt that unpleasant feeling, it was on one night, at the comfort of your home.

Both of you had just finished watching a movie, still lounging on the sofa. You were blissfully humming, texting away on your phone at—Nanami looked at the clock—11 p.m.

Now, now, he wasn't one who would be checking your phone or such, but he couldn't deny the curiosity within him, because you weren't usually texting anyone this late at night.

"Hehe~" suddenly, you giggled and Nanami glanced at you in wonder. You seemed to be having fun.

Who... are you texting?

Despite telling himself he wouldn't meddle in your affairs, he gruffly cleared his throat. "Dear, it's late."

"Oh?" you whipped your head to him. "Oh, yeah..."

You were genuinely confused, your husband was folding his face as if he was sour of something. "Kento? What's wrong?"

But suddenly, his face lit up into a smile, kind of forced though. "Ah, nothing..." And suddenly he lifted you up from the sofa, making you almost yelp as you dropped your phone and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Time for bed."

However, what you didn't realize was that your phone's screen lit up just as the sender replied to your message, and Nanami caught a glimpse of it.

Ino.

A puppy is still a dog, you know~

The heck?

"Kento?" you asked again, and he immediately turned to you, unable to read the message. Still, his mind was reeling in many ways, and when he looked into your innocent, round eyes, suddenly he clicked his tongue, eyes slitting in dissatisfaction.

"Time for bed, dear."

Long story short, that night, your husband was somehow a little more aggressive than usual... even as he fondled you ever so softly at the end.

The third time, Nanami had enough.

He had just finished a mission when he got that call from Ino, informing him that you were at a clinic after nearly passing out.

Out of anyone else... how could you not call him first?!

He may be vexed, but worry was what clouded his mind the most. You were almost five months pregnant now, and to have this happening to you—

He walked in to find you lying on the small bed, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. "Kento..."

"What happened to you? Why didn't you call me?" his voice was rough, and your smile fell. You felt him gripping your hand tightly. "How can you—"

Ino, sensing his apprehension, suddenly intervened, "Uh, Nanami-san, it's not—"

Nanami turned to him sharply, causing him to gulp.

"We were... in a bakery when Y/N-san suddenly felt faint," the younger man explained. "Please don't be too hard on her."

"And why are you with my wife in broad daylight?"

"Kento, it's not what it looks like!" you squeezed his hand urgently. "We were just... trying to find a cake, you know..."

"...what?"

And that day, everything Nanami thought he knew was turned on its axis. Perhaps, if he wasn't thinking too much—if Gojo's words hadn't taken his mind, he wouldn't jump into conclusions this easily.

Your first wedding anniversary was just in a couple of weeks, and you had enlisted in Ino's help to find this one bakery that he swore sold only the best goods. Your texts to each other were solely about that—nothing more, nothing less.

"Aww, Kento~" you cooed as Nanami helped you into your shared bed once you got back home. "You got jealous, it's cute, and I'm happy~"

He huffed. "I was not jealous."

"Ehh, didn't look like that to me though~"

"Listen," he said, taking hold of your shoulders once he had seated you on the bed, looking straight into your eyes. "From now on, whatever you do... you have to contact me first, alright?"

"Oh—?"

"When you need something, when you don't feel well, when you feel like you might be in some kind of danger..." his tone was serious, emphasizing each word. "You have to reach out to me first. You don't go to Ino, Gojo, or anyone else—me. You go to me. I'm your husband, and I intend to fulfill that role well for you."

And he placed a hand on your tummy, gently caressing it. "And of course the father role for the baby too."

You clamped up, totally speechless. This unexpected development made your heart soar with a heap of giddiness.

"Yes!" Your smile was so wide and radiant that Nanami was sure he had started to blush too. Then you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. "And you know... you're already the best husband and soon-to-be father ever! So you don't have anything to worry about, okay?"

Ah, how nice. Nanami chuckled as he placed his hand on the small of your back.

"Mhm, and from now on, I'll take charge of our anniversary. You only have to take it easy, alright?"

And when you giggled, he thought having you in his embrace like this was enough to satisfy him—after all, he was a simple man.

Epilogue

"I know even Nanami gets jealous! Heh, heh, heh~"

Gojo laughed crisply, and Shoko snorted as they listened to Ino recount the story, with the latter scratching his head uncomfortably.

"I really didn't mean anything, and now I feel kinda bad," the younger man said, his head dropping. "Nanami-san seemed upset too..."

"Not many things can get under his skin," Shoko remarked. "I really thought he'd be more rational, but having an expecting wife must've taken quite a toll on him too."

"Nah, don't find more excuses, Shoko! Now is time to pay up~!"

As Shoko grumbled and Ino was lost in his own thoughts, a loud cough suddenly echoed behind them.

"Gojo-san... Ieiri-san..." Nanami leveled his unamused gaze on them, his glasses glinting in the light, causing the two gulp. "What are you two doing?"

#nanami kento x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #kento nanami x reader #nanami x reader fluff #nanami kento #kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #nanami x you

[followerofmercy]

I think Freminet has some of the most interesting dissonance in his self perception of any Genshin character.

Like, of the Hearthlings we know, he's one of the most emotionally mature and intelligent. Lynette might still have him beat, but after playing her hangout... I dunno. I think they're tied. Lyney is Crumbling, Alrecchino is. Well. Arlecchino. Everyone else is a deeply traumatized child or adult and Freminet seems to pretty regularly be people's emotional support. His character stories talk about getting his vision by saving a bunch of other kids on a dive that went bad. The Selkie event literally had him being a therapist for a grownass woman, citing his past experiences with all the other Hearthlings that have died or killed themselves. And he handled that situation WELL. Yeah, he seems to live in a fantasy, but goddamn he's alive and a lot of people in his position aren't so clearly something is working.

Either his or Lyney's character story talks about the time Freminet had reached out to Lyney to try to ease his burdens, which resulted in Lyney blowing up at him. That probably contributed to Freminet thinking he's not good at it, but I think the reason Lyney reacted so badly was BECAUSE Freminet is actually a good support. He can't allow himself that from the little brother he's supposed to protect.

Freminet seems to both cry and dissociate often, but like... Kiddo you are in fact the only person in this family actually processing your emotions. Lynette dissociates 24/7. Arlecchino. Lyney lies and tells everyone he's fine and would literally rather die than admit otherwise. In comparison, Freminet is doing FANTASTIC

Freminet also gets a lot out of helping people! Like anyone, he needs to feel useful and needed. He seems to be an excellent mentor to the younger Hearthlings and perfectly competent on his own, but when you put him in a room with Lyney and Lynette who baby him and insist that THEY take care of HIM, he withdraws into himself.

Like, Freminet by himself feels like a young man and Freminet with the magician twins feels like a teenager. I have no idea how old he actually is. Logically, he would be OLDER than them! He's been with the House much, much longer and his experience shows. I think it's fascinating that they love him SO MUCH and yet, they just Cannot let him help them. Which is hurting him.

(Lynette is much better about not babying him and that is probably why their relationship is so much better than Freminet and Lyney's. Also why she keeps having to mediate between them. Because Lyney charges off trying to Fix Everything and that just makes Freminet feel useless and he doesn't want to get in the way and- you get the point)

Idk. It's hard to tell what things the previous director said to him vs what Arlecchino has said to him. I'm inclined to think our Arlecchino was the one that said he cries too much, but in a "crying in front of your enemies will get you killed" way and she herself is too fucked up to realize how "you cry too much" could be damaging.

Also I try not to consider gameplay stuff when it comes to story, but Freminet also has some of the most BRUTAL animations. He SMASHES HIS EMOTIONAL SUPPORT METAL PENGUIN INTO HIS ENEMY'S FACE. He doesn't think he's the most amazing fighter, and by Fatui standards he probably isn't, but he is winning fights against most grown men.

Tldr Freminet thinks he cries too much and is a burden and isn't good at helping people when he's actually the most mentally stable Hearthling send tweet

#freminet #genshin #house of hearth #character analysis #this is all over the lplace bc I'm on my phone #many freminet thoughts today #I don't wanna talk about trailer spoilers but also #this young man is a physical MONSTER #he's so similar but so different to Kaveh #where a lot of people Do perceive Freminet as a little... off #and he is #but he is a beacon of hope for all the other fucked up kids that are lost and alone #and I just think that's neat #kiddo benefits a lot from helping others #you can see how he lights up #even the hydro dragon hydro dragon don't cry #I'm sorry #this kid is comforting GOD #i think that says something

[figscigfigs]

my favorite moments of episode 15 of fantasy high junior year!!:

brennan making his friends write a limerick in 5 minutes

siobhan just immediately recognizing the elven bc she’s read lord of the rings so many times

ROCK HEAVEN BABIES MENTION!!

SHRIMP DRAGON!!!!! (literally such a beautiful mini)

the drivers ed question (i am so nostalgic ahh)

"not the same dice as before, right?" "it's a different die" “want one that's been rolling good for me?" "no cuz i'll ruin it" (literally the most romantic convo ive ever heard)

the rats HAVE to defend their livelihood

the stamps all over siobhan’s arm

PENTACORN!!!!!!

PURPLE WORM!!!!!!!!!

"let's kill all the monsters and then if we feel like we're gonna fail we'll kill each other" *arguing* “i'll cut off my head" “i'm just saying i call fabian"

gorgug’s absolutely endless supply of crits

“sit down you’re fricking rocking the boat my guy”

mephit bombs!!!!

emily and her characters constantly making out with the people they’re about to kill

“the fighting’s over it’s all love now”

NOT WHEN KIPPERCUNT CHEATED?!??!??!? HOW’S THAT FAIR BITCH WHAT?!?!?!

the pull up bar (cinematic parallels to the ribbon)

aguefort’s lil video recording (i miss him so so much AND I MISS AYDA MORE BRING BACK AYDA , YOU COWARD)

“so we didn’t have to study at all, we could’ve just done this”

gavin’s very kind and trusting conversation to the bad kids after the exam

fig getting rid of her phone AGAIN

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #the last stand #fhjy ep 15 #brennan lee mulligan #emily axford #ally beardsley #brian murphy #lou wilson #siobhan thompson #zac oyama #fig faeth #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #fabian aramais seacaster #adaine abernant #gavin pundle #kipperlily copperkettle #buddy dawn #oisin hakinvar #arthur augefort #ayda aguefort #shrimp dragon #purple worm #pentacorn #the bad kids #fcf fhjy fav

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 13)

Masterpost

Danny was holding Jason’s hand so tight he felt like his fingers were creaking but Jason wasn’t about to say anything. They were waiting in the doctor's office for Danny’s first ultrasound and Jason was accompanying him as promised, if Danny needed to squeeze his hand that was what Danny needed to do then so be it, it was better the bolting, which it looked like he was considering. Leslie didn’t usually make people wait long but when she had an emergency she had an emergency, it didn’t matter that Bruce funded her clinic, and was sitting awkwardly in one corner, they could wait.

It had been decided that as Danny’s guardian and maybe boyfriend? Bruce and Jason would be the ones to go in with him, with Danny’s agreement of course. Jazz and Dick had both wanted to come too but they didn’t want to crowd the room or overwhelm Danny so it was decided they would stay close by but not come In. Just then they were waiting together at a cafe across the road in case they were needed.

“Alright, I’m sorry to keep you both waiting but you know how Gotham is,” Leslie said a little grim-faced and still stripping off bloody gloves as she walked into their room and tossed them into the trash can. “So, Danny right,” Danny nodded. “Will you come with me into a private room for your examination?” She asked, because of course she did, the phrasing too was carefully worded to not put him on the spot so if Danny was feeling at all threatened or uncomfortable about Jason and Bruce being there he wouldn’t be blamed for following her. 

“You don’t have to,” She added quickly when Danny looked panicked and clung to Jason so tight Jason couldn’t help wincing. “We can move forward with the appointment if them being here makes you more comfortable?” 

Danny nodded quickly so she nodded as well and sat down at her desk, opening a file on her computer. “So, you’re here for an ultrasound right?” She glanced over and Danny nodded again, he seemed to be feeling really shy, Jason had never seen him so nervous, Bruce looked worried. “But it says here you haven’t had a check up in years so would you mind if we do a general exam first? I would like to make sure that You are healthy before we move on to the babies.”

“Yes that’s fine, but you know I’m not fully human right?” Danny asked, she paused for barely a moment. 

“I was told you had some differences,” she confirmed gingerly. “What should I expect?”

“Well, my heart rate is naturally slower than it used to be, and my body temperature is lower. Like I get to ‘healthy human’ temperatures when I have a bad fever. I don’t know what else has changed, honestly. I’ve been avoiding the doctor ever since my accident because I knew how my parents would react,” he said sounding tired and resigned.

“Well then we’ll take today as a paceline and monitor changes. If you’re feeling well today?” She suggested, she probably would have liked to get a baseline before Danny was pregnant but obviously that was impossible. 

“Ya that’s fine, my heartrate is probably a bit fast because I’m nervous but I’m probably healthier then I’ve been in a while. I haven’t been getting into fights and I’ve been eating regularly after all!”

“Alright. I understand but there’s no need to be nervous. This is a safe environment, I won’t do anything that’s not medically necessary.”

“I know, if Bruce and Jason didn’t speak so highly of you I wouldn’t be here. They don’t seem to see eye to eye on much so if they both trust and like you you must be good,” Danny said with a little smile though he was still tense and pale. That anxiety wasn’t going anywhere fast. In the corner Brace gave a sort of strangled cough that had Jason glaring at him even though he didn’t really know what it meant.

“Alright, then let’s get started,” She said before she started Danny’s check-up, all of the normal things a doctor would do if a bit more thorough. Checking eyes, mouth, ears, heart and lungs, and reflexes, circulation and blood pressure. His heartbeat was slow and his blood pressure was low but Danny thought that was probably normal for him? She gave an unconvinced hum. “We’ll have weekly check ups and check it again then. If it’s sustained and doesn’t affect you then we can say it’s normal for you.” She agreed. 

“Alright, well based on the information you’ve told me I think we’ve established a baseline and you’re healthy. Are you ready for your ultrasound?” She asked and Danny took a deep breath, Jason, still standing next to Danny, squeezed his hand gently.

“Ya, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Danny agreed. 

“Thank you, just lay back and pull up your shirt please,” Dr. Leslie requested and Danny did as she’d asked as she pulled up the little monitor and set things up. In the background Bruce shifted so he could see the screen better. “There won’t be much to see,” Leslie warned, shooting Bruce a look as she applied the ultrasound gel. “It’s still too early.”

She put on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbed the wand, “Alright, let's have a look.” She said, pressing it carefully against Danny’s stomach. 

Danny had let go of Jason’s hand while he lay down but now he grabbed around for Jason again, without looking away from the screen now showing inside his abdomen. Jason stepped closer and grabbed Danny’s hand, looking at his face rather than anything else, monitoring for signs the trepidation there might be getting to be too much. He knew Danny was nervous, but they didn’t want this to progress into a panic attack. 

“There they are. Oh! Two, twins. You’re further along than I expected, 10 weeks by the looks of it?” She asked glancing at Danny who nodded. 

“Ya, I’ve only been carrying them for 6 but they’re test tube babies,” he confirmed, his eyes fixed on the screen. 

“Ah,” She sounded, nodding her understanding. “The little round things below their hearts are odd. Do they have two hearts? No, those ones aren’t beating…”

“Those are their cores,” Danny murmured before it seemed to hit him and he looked at Jason, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh my god I AM actually pregnant, it’s not just the cores, I’m pregnant, oh my god I’m pregnant,” he was starting to hyperventilate. 

Dr. Leslie pulled back and Danny practically threw himself into Jason’s arm who held him tight as Danny hid against his chest and trembled. “Do you want us to call Jazz?” Jason offered softly as he held Danny and let him cry.

“No don’t go,” Danny hiccuped against Jason’s chest. 

“I’ll call Jazz,” Bruce added, of course. He would want to help, he did care, but he never had any actual idea how to help. The emotionally unavailable bastard. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Dr. Leslie asked gently. “I would like to have a better look at the twins to check on their development but if you need time I can come back later, or even another day.”

“Just-just give me a minute, please,” Danny sniffled as Jason rubbed his back.

“Of course. I know this is overwhelming,” Leslie said gently. 

Jazz barged into the room and immediately hugged Danny a well, sandwiched safely between her and Jason. “Scruff him, it’ll help,” she told Jason, who nodded and squeezed the back of Danny’s neck. 

He shuddered and then started to relax between the two of them, basically letting the two taller, and trusted, people hold him up. His sobs turned into sniffles and then a few deep breaths. “Okay, okay I think I’m ready. I want to know that they’re okay too. I know their cores are developing well but if they have human bodies, we need to make sure those are healthy too right?” 

“Right. Do you want me to stay, or do you want Bruce to come back in?” Jazz asked gently. 

“No, you and Jason stay please,” Danny said softly. He had thought it was right for Bruce to come in as his guardian, but it was Jazz who had really been looking after him for years. “There’s not much to see right now, just little blobs. We’ll tell him how it goes.”

Danny took another breath and then squirmed out of both of their arms and went to lay back on the table, pulling up his shirt again. Jason stood next to the examination table, taking Danny’s hand again, Jazz went and sat on the table by Danny’s head and stroked his hair while Dr. Leslie applied fresh jelly to his stomach since it had been worn off during his panic attack. Jason might have to change his shirt after this.

“Alright, let’s have another look shall we?” She said with a warm smile as she pressed the wand against his stomach again. She found the babies again fairly easily. “They seem to be sticking pretty close together,” She said with a little smile. “They’re active little things! It’s far too early to tell anything else about them but from what you’ve told me they seem to be on track and developing properly,” She said, pulling back and offering Danny a cloth to clean the gel off his stomach.

“Do you mind if we call Bruce back in? As your guardian I’d like him to be here for you treatment plan?” She asked.

“Sure, makes sense,” Danny agreed with a nod. 

She nodded back and looked at Jazz, who nodded as well and ducked out to get Bruce. “While we’re mostly alone I want to know, do you know all your options Danny? You know you don’t have to carry them. They’re just embryos right now, not even conscious. Your health and safety comes first,” Dr. Leslie told him gently. She knew Jason was firmly pro-choice.

“No, I know,” Danny said with a little smile and a nod, looking down at his stomach and gently caressing it. “I know I don’t Have to do this. But I do want them. I’m already attached to them, you know?” He said looking up at her, worried that she would judge him. He hoped he was making the right choice, that he wasn’t ruining his life at 16 or something. Fuck he could be on that trashy tv show! 

“I understand,” She assured, no hint of judgment on her face. Of course not, if she could treat rogues without judgment she sure as hell wasn’t going to judge a teen parent. She glanced up as the door opened again and Bruce and Jazz entered. “Right,” Leslie said, sitting down at her computer and starting to type. “You’re still a little malnourished so I’d like to get you taking prenatal vitamins immediately,” she said, glancing up to see Danny nod. “With your unique condition I’d like to see you more often than usual, weekly visits would be best for now. Once we’re sure you and the babies are okay we can go down to every other week.”

“I don’t think we need to do that,” Danny said, shifting nervously. “I mean you say the human side is looking good, and my ghost doctor says they’re developing well on that side, if slower than usual. I don’t need to come in every week,” He said looking hopeful. 

She hesitated for a moment, organizing her thoughts and considering his words. “Even so, there’s clearly some bleed over that makes it hard to tell how healthy you are. I would feel better if you came weekly, at least for the first month so we can establish a true baseline.” 

“Alright,” Danny said, drooping again, looking back at Bruce. “Can you make the appointment? I want to go home.”

“Sure Danny,” Bruce agreed, pulling out his planner to check their schedule. 

“I’ll take you back to the manor,” Jason assured, using his grip on Danny’s hand to help him up. 

“I’ll go back to the cafe with Dick, we were having a good conversation, I wouldn’t mind continuing it,” She said, giving Danny a smile. “Unless you want me to come?”

“No, that’s alright. Have fun Jazz,” Danny said, leaning against Jason and letting him usher Danny out of the clinic. Jazz waved as she crossed to the cafe where Dick was waiting, looking worried till he noticed them, then he smiled and waved. Jazz waved back and jogged across, about to tell Dick all about the twins no doubt. 

Jason led Danny to his bike, and got on first, pulling Danny onto the seat behind him. Danny wrapped his arms around Jason and pressed against his back, half hiding from the world. Jason didn’t try to talk to him, he needed time to process. He would talk when he was ready to.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #jason todd #fanfiction #trans!danny #trans pregnancy #teen pregnancy #dead on main #bruce wayne #jazz fenton #dick grayson #eldest daughter syndrome #that's what Dick and Jazz are called as a ship right? #finally getting help AU #Danny is pregnant #tw dysphoria

[goodnightoilcountry]

Fic Rec List

hi - welcome to my attempt at being a fic writer again. i have a wip list in the works but first things first: my fic rec list of all the works i've found and adored.

if you don't know yet, you will know soon that i am such a sucker for angst. i hope you find something new to love from the list below !

i will aim to update this weekly with new additions have NEW tagged next to it. additionally, if any fics become archived / deleted i will also tag it as such.

p.s. all summaries have been written by the authors themselves.

* updated thursday 18 april 2024 *

like my selection of fic recs? have a player who's not been featured? let me know and i'll go on a deep dive for you!

ANAHEIM DUCKS

better man (trevor zegras) by @starry-hughes summary: even though trevor wasn't good for you, you can't help but miss him sometimes.

hard to forget (trevor zegras) by @hockey-fics summary: you had a history with trevor but it was a history you had worked hard to forget. but forgetting it becomes even harder when a new person finds their way into the middle. word count: 11.8k

something about the sunshine (trevor zegras) by @huggybug word count: 3k

last night in anaheim (trevor zegras) by @itsjusthockey word count: 2.3k

CAROLINA CANES

do i really have to tell you (brady skjei) by @senditcolton summary: do i really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life? word count: 6.7k

this is how it ends (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive summary: not every chapter ends in happily every after word count: 6.4k

i could love you with my eyes closed (sebastian aho) by @matthewtkachuk summary: sebastian doesn't like your boyfriend - he's forgetful, stands you up, and doesn't know a thing about you. When will you see that he's the right guy to figure you out? word count: 4k

finish line (sebastian aho) by @silverstonesainz-archive summary: a resolution where all parties are happy. word count: 4.1k

lover boy (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov summary: hockey is a violent sport, one based on luck yet also talent, and most never escape unscathed. you learned that lesson too early, and haven't quite been the same ever since. then seth jarvis comes along, tearing down your hardened walls with ease, and, suddenly… you don't feel so alone anymore. word count: 9.7k

being bold (seth jarvis) by @sydnikov summary: seth has a crush on you. a bad one, and he makes it very obvious throughout the years he’s known you, though you’ve still never taken him seriously because of his immaturity and energetic personality. much to his chagrin, you keep denying him—until one night, scorned by thoughts of your most recent ex who never knew how to touch you right, you give in to seth’s advances. word count: 7.4k

9PM in Vancouver (andrei svechnikov) by @thewintersoldierdisaster summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal word count: 7k

in five (andrei svechnikov) by @sydnikov summary: something hurt/comfort where the reader is comforting svech when he finds out he has have to surgery, and helping him through the recovery process. word count: 6.7k

COLORADO AVS

summers back home (nathan mackinnon) by @happer08

crushes with beefcake (nathan mackinnon) by @ohmyeyesmyeyes summary: josh has some questions and nate jumps at the opportunity to tell a little story of his own word count: 5.9k

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hey, i can be your boyfriend (nico hischier) by @theemporium summary: when in desperate need for a date to your friend's wedding, the last person you expected to step up was nico hischier. then again, he didn't step up as much as he was thrown into the mess by jack. word count: 11.6k

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show you (mathew barzal) by @islesnucks summary: after hearing something he shouldn't have Mat is set on proving he is serious about dating you word count: 7.2k

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the word wing-woman (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme summary: you've been in love with mat barzal for as long as you can remember, so what do you do when he asks for your help to win over your friend?

this is how you fall in love (mathew barzal) by @youunravelme summary: when confronted with the idea of going home without a date, you lie and say you have a boyfriend. which would be fine, except you haven't dated anyone seriously in a year. so instead of facing the ridicule of your family, you ask mat. word count: 18.9k

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TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS

cause i'm not ready (auston matthews) by @misshoneyimhome summary: jealous!auston; Austonxreader;

3 times people asked you if you an auston were together + 1 time you finally are? (auston matthews) by @bedsyandco word count: 1.2k

we're parents? like actually parents? (auston matthews) by @austonwithan-o

moth to a flame (auston matthews ft mitch marner) by @marnerparty

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5 times Quinn wanted to kiss you + 1 time he finally did (quinn hughes) by @bedsyandco

friend's don't (quinn highes) by @hischierdevils summary: everyone can see that you and quinn are more than friends. everyone except the two of you. word count: 2.4k

third time's the charm (quinn hughes) by @thatintrovertedwriter summary: in which quinn hates parties, yet keeps throwing them in hopes you'll show up.

fearless (quinn hughes) by @theemporium summary: the five times you tried to deny it, and the one time you and quinn gave into the bond pulling you together word count: 8.3k

plus one (quinn hughes) by @bagopucks word count: 4.6k

growing up is (quinn hughes) by @adoristsposts summary: in which quinn has a hard time coming to terms with the road your relationship has taken

#nhl imagine #nhl fic rec #nhl fic #hockey imagine #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras imagine #brady skjei fic #brady skjei imagine #sebastian aho fic #sebastian aho imagine #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #seth jarvis fic #seth jarvis imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon imagine #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk imagine #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #auston matthews fic #auston matthews imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine

[oomiya]

HIS HEART BEATS FOR. gojo satoru x reader

summary: when a series of events–and an unfortunate miscommunication courtesy of nobara–sends you spiraling down an unknown path with your oldest friend, how else are you supposed to handle it with panic? then again, maybe if you knew, and if satoru knew, that you were running out of time, you would've handled everything a little bit differently. too bad hindsight is 20/20.

warnings: heavy angst, major character death, spoilers, mentions of blood/slight violence, smut (minors do not interact), unprotected sex, car sex, cursing, fem reader (she/her pronouns), possible slight canon inaccuracies, miscommunications, this does not have a happy ending #sorry

word count: 9.1k

a/n: my first fic back on tumblr ! this is kinda not great, goes from 0 to 100 real quick cause i have no patience, and is a little bit all over the place but oh well. all the love <3

It left a bitter taste on your tongue.

The look on his face–strained, tight around his eyes with a loose grin that looked too forced to really be his–caused a flighty, anxious feeling to crawl in your chest. It filled you unforgivingly, carving out any extra space and constricting your heart until you swore it wouldn’t be able to beat anymore. 

Your response–or, you suppose, your lack of one–caused the man in front of you to scoff derisively. His fingers tightened on the back of the couch, and if you hadn’t been fighting the thoughts swarming in your head and the multitude of uncomfortable feelings from eviscerating your bleeding heart, maybe you would have seen how he squeezed until his knuckles turned white. 

“If you can’t figure it out by now, then–geez, I don’t know–then I guess I don’t have anything else to say.”

You hated yourself for not having anything to say. Or, you did have things to say–fuck, you wanted to simultaneously smack a palm upside his head like you did when you were teenagers and pull the back of his neck until your lips met in a frantic, terrifying kiss–but all the words that could have led you there turned to ash in your mouth. 

“I–I don’t–” You hated yourself for stuttering, but the ash suddenly turned to a thick, heady cement glued to your tongue. So, you shook your head, took a deep breath. Anything to shake the choking feeling that suffocated you. 

But you took too long. Your silence was all he needed–all he needed to misunderstand. A look of shocked hurt crossed his face–that easy but not-so-truthful grin faltering–and all you could do was hang your head and squeeze your eyes shut as the tears prickled like tiny thorns in the corners of your lashes and the cement coagulated so much that you swore you could taste it. 

This was for the best, this was for the best, this was for the best–

Gojo Satoru turned away from you, and if you knew you didn’t have more time, you might’ve stopped him. If you knew he was going to leave, and you were going to die, maybe you would’ve been able to speak. 

It’s for the best, for the best, this was for the best.

He stopped in your doorway, lingered in it uncomfortably with a hand held restlessly against the wall. He turned his head slightly to speak to you but barely looked at your eyes. 

“‘M not gonna say sorry,” he stated, voice quieter than usual. Like all the humor had been sucked out of his life. 

You swallowed thickly, no longer fighting the tears as they fell in fat streaks down your cheeks, and refused to look at him. You think that if you did, you might not have the strength to hold your ground. 

After all, you weren’t as strong as him. 

Without another word, you watched from the corner of your eye as Satoru faltered–pausing with his lips parted as if he had more he wanted to say–but then he firmly closed his mouth, his hand left your doorframe, and he left your apartment. 

He never came back, and you would never see Gojo Satoru again.

But a few weeks previously, you were feeling a bit less tragic. 

Satoru was, too, apparently, as he grinned at you from your position on the ground. All you could do was glare in return, irrationally peeved at the way his height towered over you as he stood; you felt a strong urge to punch his shadow. 

“You callin’ it?” your insufferable ass of a friend asks, and you finally manage to gather yourself and your dignity off the grass. 

“Maybe,” you huff, rubbing your palms roughly against your pants to rid them of dirt and grass. The rain from the previous evening left the ground damp; you consider yourself lucky that all the mud puddles had already dried–you’re sure Satoru wouldn’t have hesitated if there was a brackish puddle near your vicinity. 

“Mmm–” he clicked his tongue, “–Need a better answer than that, sweetheart.”

You let out a scoff of laughter at the not-so-endearing term. “You know I hate when you call me that,” you reminded him. Leaning down, you brushed your hands down your legs to rid the fabric of any creases formed from the intense training session. 

You’d never give Satoru the satisfaction of letting him know that he beat your ass–and probably would tomorrow, too.

“Why d’ya think I keep calling you that?” the aforementioned object of your ire grinned, smug.

Satisfied with your work–and almost entirely convinced that you were once again rendered presentable–you stood again, hands on your hips as you appraised the tall man. “That’s rude.”

Satoru replied without missing a beat. “Nah, that’s just me. But hey–we still on for food tonight?” 

“Always. And unfortunately for me, I think I’m stuck with you,” you sigh, not bothering to look back at him as you turn away, starting the trek back to the main campus building. While Satoru didn’t practice with the full force of his limitless, he still insisted on training you far away from his younger students. 

If you thought too long about that, it causes a painful prick to embed itself in your heart. 

“Damn right, you are,” Satoru states, hands shoved in his black pants pockets. He fishes around for a second–you narrow your gaze at him, distrustful–before he pulls out a wrapped cherry-flavored sucker. Ah, the taste of artificial corn syrup and starch.

“Begrudgingly, mind you,” you state.

“If you say so.” Satoru pops the sucker into his mouth and falls in step with you, matching your pace as he has for years. 

Your gaze drifts to his feet, and that painful splinter shoves itself further inside. 

You swallow thickly–as if that could help tamp down the surge of affection you feel for him. “I do,” you shrug; then, to take your mind off that uncomfortable feeling that’s making itself much more comfortable in your chest, you ask, “So, how are the kiddos?”

“Nothin’ but troublemakers,” he says, voice now a bit muffled around the sweet treat, and the laugh he lets out betrays any true meaning behind his words. “Think they’re giving me a few white hairs. Look–” Satoru points to his ruffled hair– pushed up by that black blindfold you occasionally want to pull down–with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Oh, he makes jokes. How cute,” you tease, voice lilting in amusement. “But hey–they’re your troublemakers.”

“Ha–that’s what I tell people about you,” Satoru replies.

“Funny,” you respond flatly. “But seriously, how are they?” 

“They’re good, I think,” he replies thoughtfully, head tilted towards the sky as if admiring the still-gray clouds. You find yourself thinking that you wouldn’t be all that surprised if he could see through that blindfold. 

You walk in still silence for a moment, but the pensive look causing a downturn of Satoru’s mouth, coupled with the hints from his previous statement, fills you with apprehension. You feel yourself tense when he sighs, head falling from the sky to look at you.

At least, that’s what you assume. But even through the eye-covering, you swear you can feel his piercing gaze unwaveringly on you. 

“You know,” he draws out the word, and you bite your lip anxiously at his tone, “they could be your kiddos, too.”

You try not to pay too much attention to the current subject, instead trying to let it simply roll off your shoulders. “Oh, I know. You never let me forget it.”

But Satoru is used to this. “‘Cause you never give me an answer I like,” he retorts. 

You can’t hold back the groan from falling from your mouth. “Satoru,” you grit out. “Are we really having this argument again?” 

The man beside you shrugs, kicking a stray rock in your direction. Despite the vague sense of annoyance you now feel, you stop the rock with the side of your foot easily before kicking it back to Satoru. Maybe using a bit more force than necessary. 

This topic has often been one of contention between you and Satoru. Unbeknownst to you, the man has always believed that the school could become even more invaluable if you were a teacher among its ranks. He’s been trying to recruit you for years–ever since he became a teacher and you moved on to pursue your passions. You don’t know where your hesitance to teach comes from–maybe it’s not even hesitance to teach, but instead, the love you have for the work you’re doing in your current field. Whatever it is, your answer to Satoru has never changed.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t feel a bit of guilt every time he asks. 

“Doesn’t have to be an argument. Could be an agreement, instead,” Satoru attempts to convince you, and just when you start to feel a trace of remorse for how quickly you turned him down—again–he murmurs under his breath, “if only someone wasn’t so hard-headed.” 

Indignation flattens that remorse.

“Me?” you point to yourself, brows raised in disbelief. “I’m the stubborn one? Are you really the one to be dishing it, Gojo?” 

At the sudden use of his last name, Satoru visibly shrinks back. After years of friendship, your use of any name that isn’t his first habitually strikes fear in him–the feeling not unlike receiving a scolding when he was a child.

“You know that’s not how I meant it,” he attempts to explain his poor judgment.

“Satoru, you know I love my job too much. Plus, I just don’t think I’m cut out to teach like you are. Or like how you think I am.” But you relent, wordlessly accepting his hidden apology. 

Not that you were ever really upset about that, anyways. 

Satoru easily semi-changed the subject. He never really was one to back down. “Ah, I knew it! You think I’m a great teacher. Now, if you could just relay that opinion to Megumi somehow–”

“I think we’ve already established that you’re a funny guy, and we can both agree that I’m great, right? But I’m no miracle worker. Sorry ‘Toru,”

The slight tension from before eases away just like that, faster than it came, and an immense feeling of gratitude for your friend sits on your tongue. You look up at Satoru, an awkward ‘thanks’ hanging in the air between you. 

As if sensing how you’re torn–firm in your resolution to not give in to him, yet feeling bad all the same–Satoru softens, nudging your arm with his. No words are needed. 

“I’d feel hurt if I wasn’t still annoyed about the whole teaching thing. But, in all realness, you know the kids love you–”

“Well, that’s a given. Everyone loves me,” you remind him flatly. 

“Yes, especially me. Which is why I would only tell you this–I need your help,” his sudden seriousness, something that is far-and-few-between with him, immediately makes you curious. 

“You’ve got my attention,” you tell him seriously, knocking your elbow against his. He quickly returns the gesture, making something twist in your heart. 

He pauses as if taking a steadying breath. “I think you’d do great stuff here. And I could use the extra help. I wanna do right by these kids, even though I don’t make it obvious sometimes,” Satoru implores, and you can hear the unmistakable earnestness in his tone. It’s only apparent to those who truly know him and those for whom he allows most of his walls down. Gojo Satoru is a mysterious person, sometimes seeming inscrutable to outsiders. 

You pride yourself as one of the few people who truly knows him. 

“Satoru, you literally let the new first years take care of an unregistered special grade a few months ago,” you joke, recalling how Nobara and Yuuji returned from that abandoned warehouse a little worse for wear. But Nobara and Yuuji took everything in stride and were bickering as if they’d been friends for years. You knew Satoru had been proud. 

The man in question merely waves his hand, as if ridding the air of the subject. “You know that practical shit is how they learn–it’s how we learned,” he justifies, and a small part of you can’t help but to agree with him. “But I will admit that you just made my point. With everything going on lately…I don’t know. I have a bad feeling. I could use the extra hands.” 

You hesitate. You can’t help it–you’ve always had a weak spot regarding Gojo Satoru. “Have you even asked Yaga about this? I don’t know, Satoru…” you trail off, unable to find the right words.

“Let me handle Yaga,” Satoru reassures you. “Just promise me you’ll think about it?” 

You pause, thinking about it seriously for a moment. In that time, you can see how Satoru grows impatient, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet beside you. All you can do is groan. 

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” you raise a finger, as if trying to halt Satoru’s excitement from bursting. “But just think about it. I’m not promising anything.” 

His grin becomes all-encompassing and almost all-consuming. You can’t help but be drawn to it, just like your heart can’t help but skip a beat at the joy that exudes from the tall man from a mere sentence. 

“Ah, I’m not worried. I’m sure I’ll be able to convince you,” Satoru states, now standing tall with his shoulders back. He’s clearly pleased with himself, and you can’t help but laugh a bit. 

“Satoru, did you hear what I just said?” you ask, but you can’t help the amusement decorating your tone. 

“I heard. I’m just choosing to be optimistic.”

“‘Optimistic’. Is that what the kids call delusional these days?” you ask, a finger poised on your chin in thought. 

You see Satoru’s cogs turning as he tries to quickly think of a response, but just as he opens his mouth to quip back, the two of you are pleasantly interrupted. 

“Who are we calling delusional?” Megumi asks as the group of first years pops up from behind you. You turn around to greet them with a genuine smile, and Nobara gleefully exclaims your name.

The younger girl happily pulls you in for a hug, and you immediately return it. 

“Your teacher over there,” you explain to them, moving your head to look around Nobara at the other two in her group. You nod to Satoru, who immediately rolls his eyes. 

“Well, we already do that,” Megumi states listlessly. This causes your friend to jump in to defend himself, and Yuuji quickly joins him. 

 You turn your attention to Nobara, who’s pulling away and ushering you away from the boys. 

“They’re too loud. Like, all the time. Or–Yuuji is,” she explains, sighing frustratedly. “I wish I had been in your class. Or, that there were at least a few other girls with me. I can’t handle those two all on my own sometimes.”

You can’t help the warmth you feel at her words, nostalgia ricocheting you back to your school days. The fond memories of your classmates are ones you cherish–spending warm spring days hiding from the sun under a large tree, Shoko and Utahime occasionally bickering affectionately before Shoko tapped on the other girl’s head with her knuckles, lounging as ‘Toru and Suguru got into some type of trouble–

And the thought of your other classmate–the lost one, the boy with long black hair he often kept tied up except on the days that he didn’t–is what grounds you back in the present. 

While your smile is still genuine, the remembrance of him causes it to feel a bit more forced. 

“Well, it wasn’t always as great as you’re imagining,” you explain to Nobara softly, moving your hand to gently ruffle her hair. “Plus–you have Maki. Doesn’t matter all that much that she’s a grade above you.”

She gently swats your hand away, but you’re relieved to see her still smiling. You remember how difficult it was to sometimes corral Satoru and Suguru. 

As if a brilliant thought just entered her mind, Nobara’s eyes went wide with mirth. The look wasn’t unlike that of Yuuji’s–or even Satoru’s–mischievousness. 

Brows furrowed, you hastily tried to intercept her thoughts, glancing up briefly to see how Yuuji is keeping Megumi and Satoru occupied with some kind of story. 

“What’s that look for?” you ask as you look back at Nobara, only a little bit wary. 

She grasps your hands conspiratorially, barely containing her giddiness. “So…how’s the guy?”

Nobara wiggles her brows–as if begging you to let her in on a secret–and the realization comes flooding in. 

“Practically nonexistent,” you tell her, but the younger girl doesn’t let you off the hook that easily. 

Her brows furrow like she’s frustrated, or maybe about to scold you, and her hold on your hands turns firm. “What do you mean? Oh, don’t tell me–” she starts, eyes widening almost comically in realization. “Did the date go bad?” 

At the word ‘date,’ you practically watch as Satoru’s head jerks to face the two of you. However, before he can ask, someone else beats him to it.

“Date?” Yuuji asks, his attention swiveling to you, too. “You had a date?” 

Megumi intercepts by knocking Yuuji on his head. “That’s none of your business, Itadori.”

“What?” Yuuji looks at Megumi, his features akin to appallment. “Nobara’s the one who brought it up,” he grumbles.

“That’s because I’m closer to her than you two dimwits are,” Nobara states, pointing to the two of you. 

The following ensuing argument pulls Nobara’s attention away from you; but you’re not fooled. You know you can only escape her and her relentless questions for so long. 

“I didn’t know you had a date.” 

Sometime during the few seconds you were mindlessly distracted, Satoru apparently sidled up next to you. He’s warm despite the overcast day, and you can feel it as he accidentally brushes his arm against yours. 

Your wishful thinking has you hoping that, maybe, it wasn’t an accident. 

And you wouldn’t know until later, but you were right. 

Brushing off the unbidden thoughts, you cross your arms and watch as the young students continue to bicker. “Are you asking a question?” you ask, refusing to look at Satoru. 

He doesn’t hold the same notion. You can tell he’s looking at you–can practically feel his gaze on your face. You do your best to ignore it. 

“Why didn’t I know you had a date?” he asks instead, and if you were paying more attention, you might’ve caught the slightly irritated twinge in his voice. 

You make a noncommittal sound. “You didn’t ask.” 

“Don’t act like that,” he says.

“Like what?” 

“Like how you’re acting.”

“Satoru,” you groan, feeling your resolve chip away with his needling. “‘Cause there was nothing to tell! It was a guy from work, and we had a date, and that was the end of it–” 

“But what happened?” Nobara says your name, suddenly cutting it. “You were really excited about it. Remember–you were talking to Shoko about it that one morning?”

You remember, all right. You’d been hopeful and filled with a little bit of anticipation for the date–a cute guy who’d been flirting with you for a few months at work. He was sweet, and boyish, with glasses and light curly hair that was sometimes a bit messy. You can’t deny that you didn’t like the attention at least a little bit, so when he asked you to dinner one day, leaning across your desk with a sheepish, kind of shy, grin, you couldn’t help but accept. 

The next day, after trying and failing to find Satoru, you ran into Shoko in the hallways of the school. Being one of your oldest friends–outside of ‘Toru–and after being unable to find the man, you spilled all the details to her. 

Shoko listened dutifully, one hand on her hip as she listened to your jumbled nerves that kept spilling out. Then, the one grievance. 

But what about Satoru?

This caused Shoko to raise a brow, not condescendingly. “What about him?” she asked. 

You were thoroughly stopped in your tracks. She had a point–what about him? Where did that even come from? Of course, you had some idea–the steadily growing feelings of something had been ever-present and ever-annoying, but in the previous few months, they’d gotten worse. They’d been taking root, pushing aside any sort of logic or reason that told you that falling for your closest friend was a bad idea–the worst, actually. 

But you did your best to ignore them, and you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t falling. 

“Sorry–nothing,” you shook your head–like you were shaking the thoughts off. 

Shoko looked at you disbelievingly. “You sure about that?” she asked, clearly skeptical. “Because that sounds like a shitty excuse if I’ve ever heard one.”

Her words stayed with you, and later, you’d learned that Nobara had caught wind of the first part of your conversation with Shoko–the part where you’d been slightly gushing and airing all your nerves about the date to the older woman. 

You’re eternally grateful Nobara had chosen to apparently slink away before catching the tail end of the discussion. 

You shoot Nobara a glare. “You’re not helping,” you tell her, but she grins triumphantly. 

“C’mon! I’m just trying to help you get a cute guy,” she states before offhandedly muttering, “One of us should.” 

You wave your hands in an attempt to dispel the sudden miscommunication. Beside you, Satoru was stiff.

“I had a date; it was fine, end of the story,” you state clearly, looking at Nobara pointedly. 

But your apparent firmness on the topic does nothing to stop the ever-curious girl. “Was it not good? Oh! Has he not texted you back?”

“Nobara!” you exclaim in disbelief, eyes wide at her insistence. 

“What?” she shrugs. “From what I heard, it sounded like you really liked the guy.” 

“All right!” Satoru announces out of the blue, clapping his hands to gather his students’ attention. You gratefully allow him to take over. “Don’t you guys have class soon?”

“Shoot!” Yuuji exclaims, hooking an arm through Megumi’s and pulling him forward. “Thanks! See you guys later!” 

Megumi jerks out of Yuuji’s grasp and turns back around to wave. Nobara joins them, albeit trailing behind a bit, offering a doleful goodbye. 

As they leave, you smile and offer a wave. Satoru still stands beside you, but you can tell that something is a little off. He’s more tense than usual, and his usual grin is absent. 

You furrow your brows, but before you can ask if anything’s the matter, Satoru rounds on you, a slight grin hanging from his lips. 

“So, we still on for dinner?” he asks, his vaguely strange behavior from earlier having disappeared almost entirely. 

Almost. 

With a belated nod, you take in his face. But Satoru betrays nothing. 

“Sure,” you reaffirm, doing your best to forget Satoru’s minuscule change in demeanor. 

You don’t. 

If karma exists, you’re being hit with it in full force.

The evening came faster than you expected it to. You barely had enough time to return home, clean up, subsequently get yourself cleaned up, and grab your wallet before Satoru was waltzing through your apartment door like this was his second home. 

Though to be fair, it kind of is. 

The drive to the restaurant–yours and Satoru’s favorite place–felt short, and any traces of Satoru’s previously strange behavior had all but vanished. Instead, your typical, satisfied friend sat in the drivers seat. 

Then, you arrived. At first, everything appeared normally. You were seated at your favorite table, started sipping on your drink, and stole bits of Satoru’s food when he acted like he wasn’t looking. 

But then, after nearly choking when Satoru made a dumb joke, you caught sight of a vaguely familiar head of messy blonde curls. 

Eyes narrowing, you move in your seat to get a better look at the familiar stranger. Then, you groan, because the head of light curls was most definitely not a stranger. 

“Oh, fuck me,” you groan, dropping your gaze and cradling your head in your hand. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t be entirely against it,” Satoru jokes, using his chopsticks to jab a piece of meat into his mouth. 

You shoot him a scathing look, but your eyes widen when you realize that the waitress just so happened to sit your ex-date directly in your line of sight. And, therefore, place you directly in his line of sight. “Come on,” you groan.

“What? Sorry, I was only mostly joking about that other thing,” the man across from you replies, entirely unaware of your current plight. 

You hastily reach for your bag, eyeing Satoru firmly, and you state, “Hurry up–we have to go.”

Satoru’s brows furrow. “What? No. You’re not even done eating,” he points to your plate with his chopsticks. 

“Satoru!” you urge, not having the energy to go through the trials this morning and your awkward first-and-only date caused. You can’t help how your gaze suddenly splits to your ex-date across the room, hoping he hasn’t seen you. 

However, you quickly come to find that he isn’t the one you should be worried about.

Satoru easily picks up on your rising panic, and with a brow raised in question, he turns to look over his shoulder at the object of your worry. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots. 

“Huh. That him?” Satoru asks, accidentally knocking his elbow against the table as he turns back around. He winces before leaning down to capture his drink’s straw between his lips. 

“Wha–well…” you huff, doing your best to keep your head down to essentially hide behind Satoru. 

He looks at you over his sunglasses–weirdo wears sunglasses even indoors, at night, you think offhandedly–thoroughly unimpressed. 

“Cute,” Satoru states simply, voice only slightly on edge. 

He stretches his long legs under the table, and you nearly jump when his knee accidentally brushes against yours. 

“Exactly. So we need to leave. Please?” you plead with him, not having nerly enough patience to handle Satoru’s antics right now. 

A strange look passes over Satoru’s face, but it’s gone faster than you can decipher. 

“Or…” Satoru draws the word out, and a strangely foreboding feeling runs across your nerves. “We could stay. Make him jealous.”

If you had anything in your mouth, you would have promptly spit it out. 

“What?” you ask, entirely dumbfounded. All you can do is stare at your friend, who’s looking almost too pleased with himself. 

“What? Bad idea?” he asks with a slight frown. 

“Uh, you think?” are the first words that instinctually come out of your mouth. 

However, the more you think about it…

That budding emotion that’s been steadily rising in you for months rears its head again, and you find that when you go to shoot down Satoru’s suggestion, your mouth is suddenly dry. Flirting with Satoru…even the thought makes your heart crash against your chest, and you feel much too warm despite the restaurant’s air conditioning vent on the opposite wall. Of course, that’s supposing that’s what Satoru is implying. If not, well, you just made an entire fool of yourself. 

“Ah, c’mon. You’re no fun,” Satoru stretches again, but this time, when his knee accidentally brushes against you, a flare of something fills you, and you curiously wonder if it was actually an accident. 

You cough out a nervous laugh and reach for your drink. “No, I can be fun,” you suggest, but an undertone of something else makes its way into your voice. 

Of course, Satoru being Satoru, he easily catches on. Something in his eyes shifts–you can see it as he continues peering at you from over his frames–and a tingly feeling starts in your fingertips at the look. 

He still hasn’t moved his knee. Surprisingly–or maybe not so surprisingly–you don’t really want him to. 

Satoru’s eyes never leave yours–piercing with some kind of question in them that you can’t entirely discern yet. It’s something familiar yet wholly unfamiliar as you watch it cross your friend’s face; familiar in that you’ve seen it before but never on Satoru’s face. Then, he swallows thickly, throat bobbing as if trying to push down a feeling that threatens to rise up on his features, and you suddenly know what that look is.

Affection, want. Desire. 

“You can?” Satoru asks, and while you’d previously felt like you’d been frozen to your seat, the heaviness of his words is coated in a sweet, titillating warmth filled with possibilities that warm you through and through. 

No longer worried about your ex-date seeing you, you break your gaze with Satoru. “Maybe,” you say, and your nerves cause only a slight tremble to your voice. “You’ve just never seen it.”

Satoru takes the bait. Or, maybe he was waiting for it all along. “Maybe I want to.”

Oh, his words cause an instant heat to rush through you, and anything outside your booth is suddenly drowned out. It’s like a haze has settled over you both, turning your brain into a vibrating mess of nothing but Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. It suddenly feels a bit harder to breathe, and you vaguely wonder how things have changed this rapidly. How the words and intentions between you and one of your oldest friends quickly went from cordial and friendly to being filled with unanswered questions and staggering but undeniable attraction.

But, you think, maybe that’s where you’re wrong. These feelings you have didn’t appear in the past ten minutes. You’ve felt them for a while, but for a million reasons that don’t seem like reason enough anymore, you can’t shake them. 

And you don’t think you want to. 

As you think about your words, you sip your drink again, wet condensation filling the spots between your fingers. It seems like Satoru is leaving the metaphorical ball in your court–endlessly selfless even if he often hides it behind lighthearted words and joking actions. And that reminder makes you feel endlessly grateful for him. 

“Are you sure?” you ask, and a million questions lie within that one phrase. Is Satoru sure he knows what he’s implying–what you’re implying? Does he mean it, and if he does, is he certain of it? You feel like lightning is zipping through your veins, alighting every nerve you have. 

Under the table, Satoru’s knee bounces a bit–almost like he’s nervous–and then you suddenly realize that he is. A surge of affection fills your heart and your chest, making you feel every kind of warmth that exists. 

“Yeah,” is all Satoru says, and you think it’s all that he needs to say. 

Your heartbeat is in your throat when you reply. “Maybe I want you to, too.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Satoru to have you on his lap in his car, lips hot and insistent on yours as he kisses you breathlessly, hungrily. One hand–large and slightly calloused–rests on your hip, and the realization that he’s touching you and kissing you and it feels so right almost causes you to forget how to breathe. All you can do is kiss him back, mouth opening in surprise at the feel of his hot tongue dragging against your bottom lip. 

Satoru groans against you–a low, gravely sound–and it immediately has you pressing closer, greedily taking all of the affection he offers you. He’s everywhere–one hand pressing against your hip so hard that his fingertips turn pale, the other hand brushing against your face, throat, the back of your neck to pull you even closer. All you can smell is the deep, masculine scent that is simply Satoru, and it is merely one out of five hundred things at the moment that make you feel dizzy–like you might collapse in his hold if he wasn’t holding onto you so sweetly, so firmly. 

Like he couldn’t bear to let you go. 

“S-Satoru,” you say against his lips, voice breathy and pitched higher than usual. A sweet, seductive sound that Satoru has never heard before that, if you weren’t mistaken, causes him to suddenly tense with arousal against you. 

“Say it again,” Satoru nips against your bottom lip, pulling away only slightly to stare at your swollen lips, chest heavily panting. The sunglasses are long discarded–tossed haphazardly in the passenger's seat, and the sight of his eyes blown out and demanding is something that causes pleasure to pool heavy in your gut. 

Your eyes dart between his, chests meeting as the both of you pant into the limited space separating you. His breath is hot as it fans across your face, and you can’t help but lean down to press your lips against his once more. 

“Satoru,” you murmur, lips brushing against his. 

The hunger that flashes across his features is something you think you’ll dream about forever. 

The next few minutes pass by in a pleasure-filled blur. You don’t remember who moved first, but soon, your pants are discarded carelessly–just as Satoru’s sunglasses were–and his are shoved down his legs. You’re grinding against his pretty, hard cock, pressing your clit against the flushed head every time you rock your hips back down, and Satoru’s hand is up your shirt, pressing your bra up, until your breasts are free and he can grope them. The sight is enough to have you moaning again, seeing the man underneath you flushed with swollen lips and his hand squeezing the fat of your chest. 

“Fuck, they’re so nice. So pretty,” Satoru says quietly–almost like he’s not even talking to you–before leaning down and mouthing along your nipple. A gasp gets caught in your throat at the feeling of his soft lips wrapping around your breast, nerves feeling as if they’re standing on end as, at the same time, his fingers press between your legs to swipe against your clit. 

“Oh–shit,” you curse at the feeling of pleasure, winding taut and tight as Satoru continues touching you, unraveling you for him. 

“Mmm, I never hear you swear,” Satoru grins against your skin, tongue darting out to taste your nipple. He blows on the spit then, and it’s enough to have goosebumps crawling across your skin, and you can’t help but arch against him. “It’s cute.” 

Even with his hand shoved between your bodies and fingers pressed tight to your clit, his cock hard and throbbing with every little gasp you let out, Satoru still manages to get under your skin in the best way possible. 

Gritting your teeth, you pull away to glare at him, making him release your breast from his mouth. “Satoru,” you nearly groan, unable to stop from grinding against his hand as one, then two, fingers easily press inside you. 

“Hm?” he hums under his breath, a slight grin tugging at his lips. 

“Are you going to fuck me, or keep teasing the both of us?” You ask, raising a brow and pressing a hand to his chest. 

For a moment, other than the two fingers he keeps crooked inside you, easily pressing up, up until he’s massaging against that sweet spot inside you, Satoru pauses. His grin is bright, excited, slightly cocky, and he keeps slowly opening you up, making you lose nearly all sense of reason as his cock throbs against your inner thigh. It appears as though he might’ve said something, but the way you rest, poised above him, cunt all soft and wet and ready for him, your hands on his body, Satoru sinks against his chair with a sigh. 

“Wish I could take my time with you,” Satoru says quietly, fingers pushing inside your cunt then pulling out to rub your own slick against your clit. The sensation almost has you keening, and you have to bite your lip to prevent an embarrassing sound from falling past your lips. 

“Another time,” you say, not entirely thinking what those words could mean. 

Satoru’s breath visibly hitches at your words, and it’s easy to help him adjust so that you’re hovering over his heavy cock, hot and warm in your grasp, before you sink down on him with hardly any resistance.

“Fuck–” Satoru grounds out, head falling against his seat at the feeling of you dropping your hips to take all of him. You’re in no better shape, hands moving to press against his chest as Satoru’s cock presses into you–deep, deeper than you could’ve imagined–and you hastily grind against his lap to feel the heavier weight of him inside you. 

“Oh–” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut as you circle your hips again in an effort to feel him nudging against that spot inside you again. 

“F-fuck–don’t do that–shit–won’t last long,” Satoru hisses through his teeth, large palms soothing over your back to press against you. He pulls you closer, deeper against his hips, and the new angle has his cock feeling even bigger and heavier inside you. 

“Can’t help it,” you reply, your hand turning into a fist against his shoulder, and you slowly lift off him. It doesn’t take long for you to set a steady rhythm–rising off his cock before pressing back down, circling your hips and grinding against him to feel how the head of his cock nudges that spot inside you that has you clenching and moaning his name. 

“Well, help it,” Satoru nearly seethes, and when his hips rise up to meet you, all you can do is gasp out his name and take the pleasure he gives you. 

“I’ll do my best,” you tell him, but the words feel airy and meaningless when Satoru begins rubbing your clit again, causing that coil to tighten even more. 

“Not gonna last long like this,” Satoru groans, hand tightening on your hip as he fucks up into you. Your cunt feels hot and wet, taking his cock in over and over with his every thrust up into your heat. 

Embarrassingly, you find yourself agreeing with Satoru. The sight of the man quickly unraveling beneath you–thighs tense, cock disappearing between your thighs every time you sink down on him, his hands held tight and secure on your waist to keep you on him, and pale hair unruly–it itches a pleasure-filled part of your brain and causes your tongue to feel heavy in your mouth. 

“That’s okay,” you tell him, hand moving to cup the back of his neck to pull his lips to yours. Satoru obliges quickly, moaning against your open-mouthed kiss. He never stops pressing against your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as you rock yourself over his cock. Moaning, you undulate your hips, aching to feel even more of him, to feel him even deeper. Satoru seems to like this, his grip on you bruising and tight every time he presses his hips back up against your own, chasing a release you know is close by the way his eyes fall shut, and his groin tightens. 

“Did you mean it?” he suddenly asks, mumbling against your lips, holding your body tight against his. 

“Mean what?” you return, lashes fluttering and a sound of pleasure caught in the back of your throat as he swipes two long fingers against you. You rock back down against him, circle your hips at the same time he pushes tight inside you, and you’re so close to that edge, feel like you might fall over it at any second–

“‘Another time’? Did you mean it?” Satoru asks against your mouth, cock thrusting inside you at just the right angle, fingers pressing deliciously against your clit until you fall over that edge, pleasure clouding your brain and causing you to stiffen up as you fuck him through your high. 

Satoru quickly follows, joining you in the deep abyss of pleasure as your tight cunt milks him for all he’s worth, massaging the head of his cock between your slick heat, your moans as you tremble against him something he swears he’ll hear ringing in his ears for years. 

Neither of you fully comes down until a few seconds later, Satoru’s hands slightly shaking as he cups your cheek and pulls you in for one last kiss. You lean against him, enjoying the aftershocks of pleasure as they course through you, and it’s only then that you remember his question. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, a bit of something akin to shyness seeping into your tone. You swallow at the sudden turn of events–shit, this whole evening is going to give you whiplash, you think. 

With his forehead pressed to yours, Satoru’s eyes dart across your face–searching for something. You don’t know if he finds it. 

“Okay. That’s okay,” he starts, but stops himself before he can finish his thought. He hesitates, and you raise a brow in question. “There doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t have to mean anything–not if we don’t want it to.”

And there, in the head of Satoru’s car and his embrace, you suddenly feel chilled to the bone. The urge to run far, far away urges you to move–you want to move, you want to go home and crawl under your covers and consider the implications of your’s and Satoru’s actions, of his words. 

Shit–of your words. 

What held more weight? Your actions or your words? 

Fuck. You love him. 

You feel wholly embarrassed; embarrassed by your feelings, by your actions, by agreeing to this thinking that Satoru felt the same. Or maybe he does feel the same and you’re too busy reveling in what just happened and everything that didn’t happen to fully take everything in. All you feel is the sharp shame of regret and foolishness because even if he didn’t mean what he said, he still said it, which still hurt. It makes you question yourself, your feelings, and your fucking actions. You want to say something, to ask for clarity. To admit your feelings and tell him that you want it to happen again, and again, and again. 

But in the end, you allow the cold to seep through you, replacing the bright warmth that previously filled you. And the words left unspoken fill your heart like a thick, painful dread. 

“Hey–you okay? Come back to me.” Satoru furrows his brows, hand cupping your cheek. So, you give him a pained, forced smile, and look at him again. 

“I’m okay,” you reply. You could say more–admit your feelings, tell him everything you want to hear. But the fear overwhelms you in its finality. 

Instead, you say nothing, a heavy, dreadful weight filling the once blissful space between you. 

You can’t shake the feeling of cold.  

The next couple of weeks are strange. 

Now fully aware of the extent of your feelings for Satoru, you do your very best to avoid him. Maybe if you hadn’t had sex in his car, or come to a realization about your feelings, or if any of the things that had happened hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t feel the need to avoid him. 

But they did, so you did. 

In fact, you’d been doing a pretty successful job of doing so up until the night of the 29th. Earlier that day, it’d been chilly outside, a reminder of the seasons changing from summer to fall, from fall to winter. As soon as you got home–after another successful day of dodging Satoru’s texts and calls–you hopped into the shower, changed into warm pajamas, and wrapped yourself in a blanket, fully prepared to spend another night wallowing in all the mistakes you’d made. 

However, that was before rapid knocking on the door pulled you from your thoughts, alerting you that the night might go differently than you would have liked. 

With a sigh, you stand, allowing the plush blanket you’d grabbed to fall from your lap. You have an aching feeling you might know who’s behind the door, and when you open it mid-rap, a hand poised just about to know, your assumptions are confirmed. 

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” Satoru says, and you note how his jaw looks tense. 

“Me neither,” you admit. 

You move back to allow Satoru to enter–something he’s done millions of times before. 

So why does this time feel different?

“You’ve been avoiding me.” A statement. 

“I’m sorry,” is all you can reply with. 

Satoru shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” he states, and when he looks at you, you could swear there’s almost something pleading in his gaze. 

“But I do–”

“No, you don’t. I’m the last person you’d ever need to apologize to.”

Confusion fills you, wraps around you almost like dread. 

“I don’t think I know what you mean, Satoru,” you say slowly, because the words you’re looking for aren’t making themselves known as quickly as you’d like. 

As if sensing your beginning discomfort, Satoru braces a hand on the back of your couch. “Don’t you think we should talk about what happened? Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” His underlying meaning is there, but not spoken: about you.

“I just don’t know what to say,” you say, pressing against your middle finger until it begins to hurt. “If you won’t let me apologize, then I don’t know what else to say.” 

Hurt makes itself present on Satoru’s face, almost like he’s shocked at how detached your words are. 

“Well, I could think of about a hundred,” he retorts, and the sudden harsh edge behind his words almost makes you wince. 

“I just don’t think there’s anything else to say.” A lie. You have a million things to say, but you’re afraid of Satoru’s previous words. 

This doesn’t have to mean anything. 

But you want it to. And amidst your confusion–the balance between what you want and the fear of changing the comfortable, of Satoru’s rejection, of the unknown–is what holds you back. 

The fear of changing everything causes you to stand still in silence. 

The air between you is tense, and the irony of the situation is not lost on you. A few weeks ago, the air between you was tense, too, but filled with a different kind of anticipation and affection. 

Now, it’s just cold. 

“Really? Not even about how we had sex? And how I’m pretty sure both of us felt something that’s been making you avoid me for the past few weeks?” 

You’re starting to feel like you might be a flight risk. Satoru’s words are uncomfortable to hear, but they’re true. Yet, the fear that wraps itself around you until you feel like you’re bound is solid and unrelenting. You think this is for the best. 

“If I wanted to say something, then I would have,” you tell him, doing your best to hold your ground. 

You find that it’s incredibly difficult. 

“Are you sure? Because I think you’re lying.” 

His words are like a shock to your system, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

The look on his face–strained, tight around his eyes with a loose grin that looks too forced to really be his–causes that flighty, anxious feeling crawling in your chest to heighten. It fills you unforgivingly, carving out any extra space and constricting your heart until you swear it won’t be able to beat anymore. 

Your response–or, you suppose, your lack of one–causes Satoru to scoff derisively. That’s not like him–you think. He must be becoming more and more frustrated with you.

You don’t blame him. 

“I don’t know what you’re asking me, Satoru. Or what you want from me. You told me it doesn’t have to matter, right? That’s what you said,” you accuse, doing your best to form some kind of coherent sentence in the mass of things you can say. 

His fingers tighten on the back of the couch, and if you hadn’t been fighting the thoughts swarming in your head and the multitude of uncomfortable feelings from eviscerating your bleeding heart, maybe you would have seen how he squeezes until his knuckles turn white. 

“If you can’t figure it out by now, then—geez, I don’t know–then I guess I don’t have anything else to say.”

You almost gasp at his words and hate yourself for not having anything to say. Or, you do have things to say–fuck, you want to simultaneously smack a palm upside his head like you did when you were teenagers and pull the back of his neck until your lips met in a frantic, terrifying kiss–but all the words that could have led you there turn to ash in your mouth. 

Fear is a horribly terrifying thing. 

“I–I don’t–” You wish you didn’t stutter, but the ash suddenly turns to a thick, heady cement that glues your tongue. So, you shake your head, take a deep breath. Anything to shake the choking feeling that suffocates you. 

But you took too long. Your silence is all he needs–all he needs to misunderstand. A look of shocked hurt crosses his face–that easy but not-so-truthful grin faltering–and all you can do was hang your head and squeeze your eyes shut as the tears prickled like tiny thorns in the corners of your lashes and the cement coagulated so much that you swear you could taste it. 

This was for the best, this was for the best, this was for the best–

Gojo Satoru turned away from you, and if you knew you didn’t have more time, you might’ve stopped him. If you knew he was going to leave, and you were going to die soon, maybe you would’ve been able to speak. 

It’s for the best, for the best, this was for the best.

He stops in your doorway, lingers in it uncomfortably with a hand held restlessly against the wall. He turns his head slightly to speak to you, but barely looks at your eyes. 

“‘M not gonna say sorry,” he states, voice quieter than normal, but still firm. Like all the humor has been sucked out of it. 

You swallow thickly, no longer fighting the tears as they fall in fat streaks down your cheeks, and refuse to look at him. You think that if you do, you might not have the strength to hold your ground. 

After all, you aren’t as strong as him. 

Without another word, you watch from the corner of your eye as Satoru falters–pausing with his lips parted as if he has more he wants to say–maybe something that could put your mind at ease, something like I love you–but then he firmly closes his mouth, his hand leaves your doorframe, and he leaves your apartment. 

As soon as the door is shut with a decisive click, you cover your mouth with your hand, and you sob. 

He never comes back, and you would never see Gojo Satoru again.

On the night of October 31st, just a few days later, Shibuya is cold. 

This is something that feels strange to you as you lie on the chilled, cracked concrete ground beneath you. You’ve lost feeling in your fingers, your toes, and it feels like something heavy is sitting on your chest, restricting your breathing in a way that’s vaguely concerning. All your medical training fails you, but you remember that loss of feeling is never a good sign. 

Shibuya is never cold. 

It’s a place that’s constantly full of people and therefore warmth and life. Bustling with the noise of strangers who will never meet and never know each other’s stories, of loud chatter and cars driving to whatever destination they need. 

Now, the only people in Shibuya are your fellow sorcerers, and curses are milling about in spaces where people should be. And the only life in the area is that of depleting life. Of people dead and dying. Of the blood pooling around you from a fatal strike you can no longer remember the origin of. 

At least that’s warm, you think. 

Everything starts to get dizzy, almost like a mixed feeling of vertigo and déjà vu. It’s concerning, but you feel so tired, and all you want is to feel warm again. 

So you sink into the feeling, sink into the warmth staining the cracked concrete, the red coating your clothes that you’ll never have to worry about getting out. 

Finally, you think about Satoru. Distantly, you think about that fear you had just a few days ago, and you wonder how much of it really mattered. 

You love him. 

Your last thought is of Satoru, and you hope he’s alright. 

Satoru feels numb. 

Well, that’s not entirely true. He wishes he felt numb. He feels everything, actually–and what’s the aftermath of feeling everything? 

Numbness. 

He couldn’t get to you in time.

Now, locked in the Prison Realm, Satoru supposes he has all the time in the world to think about you–to think about everything he could’ve done, should’ve done. 

Instead, he had to watch as you died, as he was powerless to help you. The grief rips him to shreds, and another sob he didn’t know he had rises hot and heavy in his throat. It burns, the pain of losing you, and Satoru has the childish urge to kick something, punch something, to let out all the anger and anguish that threatens to consume and overwhelm him as a reminder that there was nothing that he could do. 

So Satoru sits, and he thinks about how much he loves you, about everything you lost. His throat becomes raw, but he keeps crying anyway, even when he’s sure his eyes are rimmed with a redness that won’t dissipate for days. 

Not that he would be able to see, anyways. After all, he was locked away. 

Keen on punishing himself, a thought strikes his brain in the most painful way, but Satoru has no energy left to fight it. 

He’s the strongest, yet he’s never been able to protect any of the people closest to him. 

Satoru thinks about that night–the night when he could finally hold you as if you were his, if only for a little bit. The soft smile on your lips, the way you let him kiss you, how it felt to shower you in his affections without fear. 

He wonders about if you ever really thought about his offer. The one where he offered you a teaching position. You said you would think about it. Had you? Had you decided on teaching, on helping him? Or were you just appeasing your best friend's antics?

You would've made a great teacher. He's always thought so.

He loves you–loved you, he supposes, in light of recent events–yet the last memory he left you was one filled with hurt and despair. 

Satoru thought he felt numb, but that was only wishful thinking, just as the idea that you’ll be okay, that Shoko or someone will get to you in time.

But Satoru is no fool. 

He sits, simultaneously feeling numb and everything all at once, and he doesn’t have any strength to fight them off. 

All he can think of is you, and the tears begin to fall again. 

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #x female reader

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt. 2: Pedal so heavy 

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: The feelings are getting real as you make a decision about giving Jake Syverson the time of day (or night, rather) at your 20 year reunion.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Flashbacks, horny teenagers being horny (over 18 tho). Prom night, early 2000's music, mentions of sex acts, "Captain" kink, mentions of teenage pregnancy, divorce, breakups. The Powerpuff Girls, old automobiles, 20 year high school reunion, drinking, swearing. Reckless driving?

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the second installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

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

May 2024

“Well, now Buttercup, that’s a long story. I know you want to hang with your friends. And I don’t know what you’re doin’ later tonight, but I would like to go somewhere quiet and talk about it.”

When you heard that, you went into fight or flight mode. Rage, regret, and sadness all flooded your body at once, and Sy’s eyes flicked down to your dominant hand which was curling into a fist. A wry smile started on his lips, and then he straightened up and looked you in the eye as he started to speak again.

“Butter-”

You shook your head, which silenced him. Then you raised your chin, released your fist, and turned your back, walking toward your friends.

—---

Get out (LEAVE!)

Right now

It’s the end of you and me

It’s too late (NOW!)

And I can’t wait 

For you to be gone…

Carla and Tiffani followed as you fled to the restroom.

“Why did you even tell him I liked him? I blame both of you.”

You were hurt, so you brought up a 20 year old slight and lashed out weakly at your friends. You were trying to ascribe meaning to your emotions.

How could everything still hurt this much? 

Carla wasn’t having it.

“Unh unh. No. Nope. We were sick of you running your mouth all the time about how cute he was. And Jakey boy had heart eyes for you since the day you walked into school, despite Becca the Bitch. After they broke up, we had to put you both out of your misery. It had to be done.”

Tiffani was nodding her head in agreement.

You sighed.

“‘M sorry guys,” you sat on the bathroom vanity and smiled to yourself about your Powerpuff councils in the 3rd floor Central High bathroom all those years ago. Then you grimaced when you thought of Sy.

“I just… Can’t…”

“So what just happened?”

Despite your surliness, Carla was ready to go to war for you.

“He wants me to go talk with him, ‘someplace quiet.’”

“Wow. Your air quotes are kind of aggressive.”

Sweet Tiffani was also calling you out.

“Maybe you do need to talk to him. I heard what happened, and it’s kind of a lot. A hell of a story.”

“Tiff has a point. You forbid us to say his name after you two broke up…”

You interrupted Carla.

“After he found out Becca was pregnant, you mean..”

“...That is a part of the story you need to hear. She did him dirty. They split when he finished his first tour. He asked about you, but you were already engaged to Scott…”

You’d heard that Sy enlisted instead of going to State for football like he planned when Becca fell pregnant, but the bit about the split hit you like a ton of bricks.

But why? And what did it matter now? 

“Sy spent the better part of the last 20 years in Afghanistan, and I think it’s because…But that’s not our story to tell. You really ought to talk to him.”

“I don’t have to do-”

Your voice was a little shrill and you closed your mouth when you heard yourself. You stood in the bathroom awkwardly until the familiar beginning of a song wafted into the room:

“Teen drinking is very bad.”

Carla and Tiff started screaming the next line:

“Yo, I got a fake ID tho.”

The beat dropped and they pulled you out of the bathroom onto the dance floor.

One, here comes the two to the three to the four Everybody drunk out on the dance floor Baby girl ass jiggle like she want more Like she a groupie and I aint even on tour...

…..Everybody in this bitch getting Tipsy.

This was your thot song, and after a minute of standing there, fake offended by their dancing, soon you were shaking your ass with your lifelong friends.

—-----

Sy knew how much he was trying it when he asked you to talk, but he had been waiting 20 years for this chance. 

Tonight was the night.

And he wasn’t going to let the night pass without shooting his shot. But the truth needed to be told first. He hoped that you still cared enough to let it happen.

When you stared at him blankly, he started to sweat. He knew you lived your life since then. He feared that any feelings you may have had for him were over and done with. But then he saw your hand balled into a fist, and hope entered his heart.

Sy never shrank from a fight; hell, he’d started too many, but he never wished for someone to sock him in the mouth as much as you.

He wanted to fight with you. 

And he wanted to make it up to you. 

His heart dropped when you walked away, but he decided to let it ride and give you some space. After you disappeared into the bathroom with Carla and Tiffani, Sy ventured into the venue, ready to interact with others now that he had laid down the challenge with you.

—---

You were having a ball dancing with the girls until that song came on. You stopped moving, the hair raised on the back of your neck. When you turned you found Sy staring right at you. You’d managed to ignore him the entire night, but this song and his blue eyes were wearing you down.

I'd sure hate to break down here Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror Out in the middle of nowhere, knowin' I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin' So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now

You walked toward Sy, drawn to him as if on a string. You had that feeling in the small of your back as you stood before him, the one that you hadn’t felt in ages, and suddenly everything felt inevitable.

Just like it did 20 years earlier. 

—---

May 2004

On Prom night, you came out of your bedroom and Sy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes never strayed from your face as he murmured,

“You look amazing.”

You blushed and smiled while your mom ‘awwwed’ and went to get her camera. You approached your boyfriend and he took your hand to twirl you around as he appraised the rest of you in your sleek emerald green dress. When you faced him again, he was licking his lips, trying to make the look on his face respectable. You smiled because you could read his mind.

Sy didn’t flinch as your mom called him “Jacob,” and you didn’t have it in you to be annoyed as she took a couple of pictures. Sy’s hand on your waist and his thumb gently stroking the exposed skin at the opening on the side of your dress made you shiver in anticipation.

You were caught up.

Soon, Sy was loading your bag into the back of Betty, and pulling off, your mom having accepted your explanation of staying over Tiffani’s after going bowling with the group after the prom.

In reality, a bunch of the crew were renting a huge chalet in the mountains, 45 minutes away. You and Sy had your own room, and you were ready to give him everything that night. You were distracted, imagining having your way with him that night.

And Sy was right there with you.

“Y’know, Buttercup, we can just head on up to the chalet.” 

He cut his eyes over to you to watch your reaction. When you didn’t answer and just bit your lip, that’s when he knew.

“Our suite has its own bathroom with a shower in it. We’re definitely using that this weekend. Can’t wait to see you all soapy and wet. ‘S all I could think about in the shower tonight. Almost jerked off to the image, but I decided to save it all for later…”

Sy knew you too well, and had keyed into how you responded when he talked dirty to you. He was priming the pump for later.

You pictured Sy in the shower, his lithe muscles clenched as he fisted himself, made you suddenly need a drink of water. You cleared your throat and found your voice.

“We have to go, Sy. I spent so much time getting ready. And you look so handsome in this tux….”

You skimmed your hand down his lapel, down his torso to his thigh, and you quickly ascertained his situation. He grinned at you.

“You’re right.”

Sy winked, smiled and concentrated on the road while you tried not to be a slut in the passenger seat. By the time you reached the venue, you had yourself under control. He parked, then turned toward you. 

“Let’s have a good time tonight, Buttercup. Think you can keep your hands offa me for a couple of hours?”

You scoffed, and Sy took your hand and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed your palm, smoothing the joke away because in reality, It was him who couldn’t help touching you.

“Don’t want to mess up your makeup right now… might ruin it later tho.”

You whimpered in his grip as he kissed up your arm and you tucked a long errant curl behind his ear. 

Sy’s eyes went soft and he held your hands in your lap.

“Y’know, we don’t have to do anything tonight. We can dance all night if you want to. Bowl the blue balls away.”

You laughed and Sy fell in love even more. You were so beautiful.

“I love you, Buttercup, and us having sex or not won’t change that, not one bit.”

You melted as you stared at your handsome fella. He was fiddling with your hand, and then you felt something cold on your finger. You pulled your hand back and saw the delicate white gold ring with a tiny perfect diamond in the center that had been his grandmother’s.

You gasped.

“Sy!”

You looked from him to his grandmother’s ring. You’d come across it the first time you were over his house, ‘studying’ in his room on a chilly November night after football practice. You were being nosy and looking at everything you could touch as he went to get some snacks.

Sy was embarrassed when he came back and saw you with it. You thought he was mad at you for snooping, but he wasn’t. He’d told you that it was just a ‘tiny little ol’ ring, not worth anything,’ and that no one would want it, but that his Gran had left it for him to give to his future wife. 

“But, I’ll propose to someone with a bigger ring than this.”

Sy’s denim blue eyes held yours for a beat. Your heart flipped. You didn’t know why, because you’d only been talking for a couple of weeks and this was the first time you were alone together. 

You didn’t know that Sy was repeating something Becca had told him when she turned her nose up at the antique when she happened to see it, and you didn’t care as you took the black box and sat down on his bed. You stared at the ring inside like it was the crown jewels, and after about 5 minutes of studying it, you looked up at him. 

“Well. I think this ring is beautiful and precious. The detail is stunning. Your future wife would be lucky to get it.” 

That was exactly when Sy realized that he was in love with you.

Back in the Bronco outside of the prom, you were in disbelief.

“What are you doing Sy….?”

All of a sudden, you felt too young for this moment. But after only six short months together, Sy knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Calm down, Buttercup, this is just a promise ring.” 

He kissed your hand again. 

“I know we're jumpin' the gun, and we're both still young.” 

Those eyes held you in a trance.

“But one day, we won't be.”

“Oh, Sy…”

“It’s my promise to you, Buttercup. I will love you ‘til the day I die.”

And it seemed kinda crazy. But you believed him.

—-

May 2024

I made it this far without cryin' a single tear An' I'd sure hate to break down here Oh, no

It was either the music, the dancing, or the alcohol, or all three that made your mind up, but you were ready to listen to what Sy had to say. 

Stephanie Prince, the class president, was calling the Homecoming court up to the stage, and Sy looked that way. Anger bloomed again inside you.

Damnit, Sy needed to choose you this time.

“You still wanna talk, Sy?”

Your body language that screamed aggression: the cocked hip, the crossed arms that pushed up your tits, the tapping foot in those heels, all made Sy soft on the inside and hard on the outside for you. When he answered you, his voice broke. 

“Ye– yeah.”

Christ, you had him weak. But he made a decision, found his strength, and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the Marriott.

You followed him obediently, and that set him on fire. He stopped and turned around when he reached the Bronco. 

But he didn’t let go of your hand.

You two stared at each other in the late spring night air, stars winking down on you two.

“So where we goin’, Sy?”

Being this close to him again, and the feeling of his touch made all those 20 year old pheromones perk up again. Damn, this man. 

This huge, handsome, hairy man.

“Where do you wanna go, Buttercup?”

What your brain was doing was insane, so you just kept silent.

Becoming mute was one of your tells. Sy was elated that maybe you wanted him, at least physically. He was so thirsty for you.

“Hm.”

Sy grunted, straightened up, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, all while still holding your hand. It was like he didn’t want to let you go. 

And he didn’t.

“Tell you what. Let’s take a spin in Betty. See what’s up in the ol’ town.”

Your eyes flicked toward the truck, and you knew it was dangerous.

But you were grown now. 

And so was Sy.

Sy led you around to the passenger side door to help you up into the high profile vehicle, leaning over you to buckle you in, only releasing you to put his hand on the door.

“I can’t believe you still have her,” you whispered, indicating the Bronco. “How is she still the exact same condition?”

“She’s been in storage for the better part of 20 years. Thought about her everyday though.”

Sy was looking at your lips, and the memories came flooding back.

“I bet she missed you.”

Sy cocked his head and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. His voice came out gruff and he had to clear his throat again. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Sy.”

Any smooth line was lost as his brain short circuited with the concentration it took to not kiss you right now. 

“Well, we’re about to have some fun together again, you, me, and Betty. Sit tight, pretty lady.” 

Your cheeks heated at the compliment.

“Ok, Captain.”

Sy actually blushed, shook his head and closed the door, leaving you to breathe in the old leather smell of the Bronco with your eyes closed, conveniently leaving him to pump his fist behind the car unseen by you. 

He got back in the car, jacket off. And he leaned near you to place it on the back seat, you got a whiff of him, the familiar cologne adding another dimension to your roiling senses.

When you opened your eyes, you witnessed him rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms. He caught you ogling him and you gulped and crossed your own arms and legs, angling yourself to look out of the open window.

Sy looked over at you closing yourself off from him, then smashed the gas to make sure that you'd squeal and grab his arm like the good ol’ days as he peeled out of the parking lot, pedal so heavy like you were the two most wanted criminals in town.

—---

Hit reblog if you like it!

#henry cavill #henry cavil x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson #captain sy x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #syverson smut #captain syverson smut #syverson au #captain syverson au #syverson x black!reader #captain syverson x black!reader #syverson angst #captain syverson angst #syverson imagine #captain syverson imagine #ii most wanted #II most wanted fic #henry cavill smut #Sy x Buttercup #am writing #writeblr #creative writing #Spotify

[sydsaint]

Hello darling I was wondering if you could write a Damian x reader fic where reader has a really bad bf (can make it another wrestler if ya want) and Damian gets into a fight with said boyfriend and then proves to her he loves her and is the better option and you find out reader always had feeling for him but was to nervous to say anything to him (some what based on ho hey song by limiters)

I hope you enjoy it!!! <3

Summary: The reader has a bad argument with her boyfriend, Giovanni Vinci. Damian intervenes, unable to stand by while reader gets mistreated.

You storm down the hallway with your boyfriend hot on your tail as you attempt to free yourself from his presence for a bit.

"Stop following me, Giovanni." You whirl around to face him with a scowl.

"YN, come on." Gio replies. "I said that I was sorry. What else do you want me to do?" He asks you.

You scoff and go to turn around and stomp off again, but Vinci catches your arm before you can move away from him. "I want you to stop ogling other women when I'm standing right next to you, dickhead." You yank your arm out of his grip.

"I wasn't ogling, Liv, I swear." Vinci attempts to defend himself. "I was just glancing around the room and she happened to be standing right there." He insists.

"You are so full of shit!" You laugh hysterically. "I saw you staring at her ass, Giovanni! The only thing that could have made it more obvious is if you started drooling!" You shout at him.

The commotion being aired out in the middle of the hallway earns itself an audience when one of the locker room doors swings open. Damian steps out of the Judgement Day locker room and locks onto you pointing an angry finger into Giovanni's chest.

"Everything alright out here, YN?" Damian makes his way over to your side to check on you.

"We're fine here." Giovanni answers for you. "It's none of your damn business anyway." He turns his nose up at Damian.

Damian rolls his eyes and turns to face you. "I was talking to, YN, asshole." He looks down at you with a soft expression. "You okay, YN?" He asks you again.

"I'm alright, Damian, thanks." You glance up at Priest and nod. "Gio and I were just having a disagreement is all." You assure him.

"Alright." Damian nods and backs off now that he knows that you aren't in any danger. "Hey, I was just about to run down to catering to grab a drink for Finn. You want to come with me?" He asks you.

Giovanni scoffs and reaches out to grab your arm again. "She's fine." He attempts to answer for you again. "Come on, YN. Let's go back to the locker room and talk about this like adults." He insists.

Damian grabs Giovanni's arm before it has a chance to clamp down on yours. He shoves Gio's arm back into his chest and steps between the two of you. "Try and grab her like that again and the only place you'll be going is the ER." Damian growls at Giovanni.

"Whatever." Giovanni scoffs and stares at you over Damian's shoulder. "Come find me when you're over this bitchy mood, YN."

You roll your eyes and watch Giovanni retreat back to the Imperium locker room to pout. Once he's out of sight, Damian turns back around and leans down so he can talk to you more comfortably.

"You okay?" Damian asks you. "Does he he all grabby with you like that often?"

"Only when he's in a bad mood." You grumble to yourself. "Which is more often nowadays." You admit. "But I'm fine, thanks, Damian." You smile at him.

Damian nods, thoughts of kicking Giovanni's ass crossing his mind as he looks down at you. "You can still hang with me if you don't want to head back to the Imperium locker room just yet." He offers. "We can chat some more if you'd like." He suggests casually.

"Yeah, that sounds nice, actually." You nod.

You and Damian take off and head down to catering so Damian can fetch Finn's drink like he said earlier. The two of you chat along the way, mostly about work.

"How long have you and Vinci been a thing, anyway?" Damian asks you while you're on the way back from catering.

"Umm, a little over a year now I think." You reply. "It's usually not like this. Gio's sweet, most of the time." You assure him. "We just...well it seems like he likes to argue with me sometimes." You sigh.

"Sounds kind of shitty if you ask me." Damian replies. "I mean, I don't mean to pry or anything like that. But you've seemed kind of quieter and more distant these past few months." He explains.

You unconsciously nod and bite the inside of your cheek. "Yeah well, being a member of Imperium isn't easy." You attempt a half-assed laugh. "Gunther keeps us all on a tight schedule. Anyway, thanks for talking with me Damian. Gio should be cooled off by now. But I'll catch you later, yeah?" You ask him.

"Yeah, anytime, shorty." Damian nods.

You head off to return to the Imperium locker room and Damian watches you go. 'Fuck! I am such an idiot!' he curses himself. 'why couldn't I just tell her how I feel?'

Later in the night, Damian and the rest of Judgment Day are heading out of the arena. Damian is loading up the trunk with bags when he hears arguing a few spaces away.

"I'll be right back, guys." Damian sets down his bag and heads off to find the source of the shouting.

"Why do you have to act like such a difficult bitch all of a sudden?" Giovanni lays into you verbally in the parking lot. "Just get in the damn car, YN! I'm done arguing with you!"

Damian rounds the corner just as Giovanni makes a move toward you. You step out of Gio's range and swat his hand away. "Just fuck off, Gio! God, I am so sick and tired of taking this verbal abuse from you!" You shout right back at him. "Go back to the hotel by your damn self! I'll find my own ride back." You turn sharply on your heel and begin to walk away with your bags.

"You aren't going anywhere until we settle this!" Giovanni steps forward again and goes to grab you.

You turn around to smack Giovanni but someone beats you to the punch.

Literally.

Your eyes widen in shock as Damian steps out from behind a car. You watch Priest reel his hand back before swinging it at Giovanni's face. Damian's first collides with Gio's jaw and Vinci reels back.

"What did I tell you earlier!" Damian puffs out his chest as he steps in front of you.

Seconds later, Finn and JD appear at your side, having been drawn in by Damian's yelling. "YN? You alright?" Finn sets a hand on your shoulder.

"What? Oh, Finn!" You jump before turning around. "What are you and JD doing here?" You ask him.

"We heard shouting." JD answers you. "Damian!? What the hell are you doing?" He turns to Damian who is now on Giovanni and trading blows with him.

The fight startles you and you shake a bit. "Can you guys separate them?" You ask Finn and JD.

Finn nods and beckons Dominick over from their car. Dom heads over and stands by you while Finn and JD break up the brawl between Giovanni and Damian.

Once the pair are separated, Finn drags Damian over to you and Dominick while JD keeps an eye on Giovanni. Damian calms down when he sees the worried look on your face.

"Shit! YN." Damian's expression softens. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just...well I wasn't going to let Vinci keep ragging on you like that." He tries to explain himself.

"I know." You nod. "It's okay. Thank you for wanting to help." You blink a few times. "Honestly? I don't know why I've put up with it for so long." Tears dare to spill from your eyes and blur your vision.

Damian recognizes the look on your face and pulls you into his chest for a hug. He rubs your back gently to soothe you while Finn helps escort Giovanni away from the group.

"You know that you deserve better. That's what's important." Damian comforts you. "You want to ride back to the hotel with us? I can get Finn and JD to get your stuff for you." He offers. "Then we can get you a different room to stay in."

"Yeah, that sounds like a start." You nod and pull away from Damian. "Thank you, Damian. I don't know what I'd be doing right now if you weren't here to help." You sniffle.

.Damian cracks a soft smile and hugs you tightly again. "I've got your back, hermosa." He assures you.

#wrestling #wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fic #wrestling fanfic #wwe #damian priest #damian priest x reader #syd's wrestling fics #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest imagine

[blitzwhore]

I really really hope we get to see how Blitz and Millie met.

She's always so lenient with him when he oversteps her and Moxxie's boundaries, always so chill around Blitz no matter how unhinged he gets. And the more I rewatch the show, the more I feel like the reason she's so chill might be she knows things about Blitz the others (and maybe even we the audience) don't.

It makes sense that the way they met affects how she sees him, too, because we already know how the way Moxxie and Loona met Blitz impacted their relationships. Moxxie was at his lowest point in life, with no friends, family or partner he could trust; a victim of abuse and a member of a mafia he knew nobody outside of. And in prison, on top of it all. And just when he was about to give into despair, Blitz showed him sympathy and took him under his wing. So now, even though they bicker and get on each other's nerves, Moxxie does show that he appreciates Blitz (for example, in Truth Seekers after their bad trips). The same is true for Loona, who everyone had given up on, but who Blitz took in as well. Even if she complains about his displays of affection, she constantly gives him small smiles and softens around him, and takes care of him, like after Bee's party.

From what we know, Millie had a pretty good family life before she joined IMP. Unlike the rest of the IMP crew, she doesn't seem to have a horribly traumatic past. So, while there could be more that we don't know, it doesn't seem likely that her appreciation toward Blitz comes from him taking her under his wing when she was at a low point, the way he did Loona and Moxxie.

So I can't help but wonder if the opposite could be true. If maybe she met Blitz at a low point in his life—low enough that he couldn't keep his facade around her. There are theories going around that Millie could've been Loona's babysitter (the one Blitz mentions when he meets Moxxie). I don't know if it'll turn out that way, but I do like the mental image of Millie meeting Blitz at the very beginning of his parenting journey, desperate to fight for the humanity and the well-being of this extremely violent and unhinged 18-year-old girl. Desperate enough to hire a babysitter for an 18-year-old. I wonder if, maybe, one of the first things Millie learned about Blitz was just how desperately he wanted to be the adult role model and caregiver that Loona needed. I wonder if she saw him taking Loona's violence over and over, and still not giving up on her; not just that, but giving Loona the only bedroom in his flat and sleeping on the sofa every night just so she could have her space to decompress and feel safe. I wonder if, at some point, Blitz broke down and told Millie how scared he was of being a bad dad, or of Loona deserving someone better than him.

I just love the idea of Millie being this completely chill and functional young adult, and Blitz being this struggling 30-year-old dude who clearly cares so deeply and feels so inadequate that his whole life is a massive trainwreck.

So now, whenever Millie witnesses Blitz being overbearing and obnoxious and over-the-top, she immediately recognises it as an act, and understands that it's his way of communicating appreciation and seeking connection, which he can't do in other ways because he doesn't think he deserves those things.

Idk man. I just hope we get to see more of Blitz and Millie. I just think their interactions are neat.

#helluva boss #helluva boss meta #helluva boss millie #millie helluva boss #blitz helluva boss #helluva boss blitz #loona helluva boss #helluva boss loona #moxxie helluva boss #helluva boss moxxie

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss - Pt.8

Pairing: Minchan x femReader (mention of Changlix)

Word Count: 3478

Summary: Three weeks later, you're still feeling left out. Your therapist suggests communicating your worries to your husbands, but this doesn't go as planned.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, therapy, verbal fight, anxious!chan, min gets defensive

A/N: After part seven I thought I'd be done with one part more tops...well. Once more, there'll be another chapter after this. Ideas/wishes are always welcome, I'll see what I can include🤭🖤

PART SEVEN | PART NINE

Three weeks later 

“And you still don't want your husbands there for the appointments?” your therapist asks kindly. She has been for weeks now. 

“No,” you shake your head firmly. 

“May I ask why?” she asks patiently. 

“Minho has a lot to deal with on his own because he remembers…also, he hates hospitals,” you start and nervously fidget with your hands. “Chan is…different.”

“Different, how?” she responds with another question. 

“Distant is the wrong expression by now. He's trying to show me how much he loves me, but I can tell when he gets overwhelmed. He's still figuring things out, finding his place back home,” you tell, and she nods along, taking some notes. “I just…It's not all bad. He gets enough sleep now, makes sure to eat enough, and takes care of himself. It's just so different from what I remember.”

“And Minho? Is he getting the help he needs?” she asks. 

“Yes, he sees his therapist every two weeks. Weekly, if it's really bad, she always manages to squeeze him in,” you tell her. “He tries to hide it, but he still has nightmares. He's able to drive again if he has to, but he gets anxious easily.”

“And where does that leave you?” she asks patiently, nodding at the wooden board between the two of you. There's a figure for Chan and another for Minho, standing close next to each other. Behind them are several smaller figures in darker colors, symbolizing their fears and struggles. And there's you. Yours is smaller than theirs, standing further away as if you're facing them. 

“Alone,” you say, swallowing hard as you notice the distance between the figures. You hadn't thought much about it putting them there but they're painting a clear picture. 

“Are you?” she asks gently. 

“Sometimes,” you nod. “I don't feel like it when I'm alone with one of them. But if it's all three of us…I feel like they don't need me,” you say and subconsciously fondle the tiny head of the figure behind you, symbolizing your negative thoughts. 

“Do you want to change something?” she asks, picking up on it, and you set it between yours and the ones of your husbands. “Add anything?”

“I'm scared of losing them,” you say, and she nods at you, letting you choose another one. You put it next to the one you just moved. 

“May I comment on something?” she asks, and you nod. “You put your husband's fears and struggles behind them. But yours are in front of you, forming a wall between you all. Why's that?”

“Uh…because they've communicated theirs openly with me and are working on them. I didn't tell them I'm scared to lose them or all of the other thoughts running through my head,” you admit. 

“Mhm, so theirs are out in the open…why aren't yours?” she asks patiently, and you drop back into the comfortable chair. 

“I don't know,” you confess. “Maybe because I feel like I can't put more on their shoulders.”

“What happened when Chan told you he's scared to push your boundaries? What happened when Minho panicked?” she asks, flashing you a kind smile. 

“I comforted them, told them it's okay,” you say quietly. 

“And what makes you fear they wouldn't do the same with you?” she asks, making you lower your head a little embarrassed. 

“I don't know,” you admit quietly, feeling tears burn in your eyes. “I should tell them, right?”

She hums gently. “Communication seems to be very important to keep your relationship intact as you're all dealing with certain things.”

-

You're exhausted after your session, but you know you'd have to open up more about your own fears. You follow her outside into the waiting area to pay and frown as you see Chan talking to the receptionist. “Channie?” you ask, confused, and he looks up with a soft smile. 

“Hey, baby girl,” he says sweetly. “I thought I'd come pick you up, I finished early today.”

“Oh,” you nod and open your handbag to get your wallet. Chan introduces himself to your therapist, a warm smile brightening up his gorgeous face. You take out your card, and Chan gently shoves it back inside. 

“Already handled,” he tells you. 

“What? Channie, I had to pay for the whole month today,” you protest. 

“I know,” he nods and gently zips your handbag closed. “It's fine.”

“Thank you,” you nod gently, smiling as his hand finds yours. 

“You got everything?” he asks, and after you nod, you two say goodbye. Once you're in the elevator, Chan pulls you into a strong hug and kisses your hair. “You look like you've been crying. Rough one?” he asks caringly. 

“Yeah,” you nod, burying yourself in his warmth. “Thank you for picking me up, Channie angel.”

“Of course,” he tells you, rubbing your back. 

As you lean into Chan's embrace, you're reminded of the session's revelations. His warmth is reassuring, and it pushes against the shadows of your own unspoken fears. You wonder how to begin sharing them with him, how to bridge the gap that your silence had unknowingly broadened. "I have a lot on my mind," you finally say, your voice muffled against his coat.

Chan's response is soft, filled with his sweet patience. "I'm here whenever you're ready to talk," he assures you, his hand steady on your back. The simplicity of his promise makes something within you ease slightly. Perhaps sharing your inner conflicts wouldn't be as horrible as you feared.

“Thank you,” you nod gently. 

Chan leads you outside the building and to his car, your hand still in his. “I wanted to take you out for coffee, but would you rather go home? Whatever you say is fine, beautiful,” he assures you, and tears brim your eyes. 

“Our favorite spot?” you ask gently. 

Chan smiles sweetly, dimples showing. “Yeah,” he nods, giggling as your face lightens up. 

“I would love to,” you tell him. 

-

When you're back home, the atmosphere shifts as Minho greets you both from the sofa. His smile is shy, a reflection of his ongoing struggles, yet sincere. His eyes light up when he sees you. "Everything okay?" he asks, a subtle concern in his tone.

You nod, squeezing Chan's hand before letting go. "We need to talk, all of us," you say, surprising even yourself with the firmness in your voice. Minho's brow furrows slightly, but he nods, understanding the seriousness of your tone. He gestures towards the empty space next to him. 

As you all sit down, the weight of the moment hangs heavily in the air. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to be as open as possible. "I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed," you begin, your voice stronger than you feel. "Not by you two specifically, but by everything. The fears I've kept to myself are... they're getting heavy."

Chan reaches for your hand again, his touch a silent promise. Minho leans in, ready to listen, to help shoulder the burden you've carried alone for too long. You share your fears—of losing them, of not being enough, of the future that seems so uncertain sometimes. With each confession, the walls you built crumble.

“You know you can always come to us when those thoughts get too much to handle, yeah?” Chan asks gently. 

“You're always there for us, honey, don't forget we're there for you too,” Minho adds agreeingly, gently rubbing your thigh. 

“I know…A lot of it is in my head, but I miss you two,” you admit. “I can't even explain it, but I miss you so much, and I just wish everything would be normal again,” you say, tears brimming your eyes. 

“Y/nnie,” Minho whispers and shakes his head, tears brimming his own eyes. “We have to work with what we got. A lot has happened, and we can't pretend it didn't. We have to find our new normal,” he tells you and timidly takes your hand.

“But we're always here, yeah? You're still our beautiful wife,” Chan chimes in. 

“Well, then start acting like it!” you suddenly burst out, and seeing the hurt and confusion lacing their features you quickly get up. “Start acting like I'm your wife and not just your crush you hold hands with from time to time.” 

“Seriously?” Minho asks dangerously low and Chan swallows, already fearing an outburst of both of you. “Tell me you're joking.”

“I'm not,” you snap at him. “Obviously, I'm not.”

“What the fuck do you need me to do then? What do I have to change, huh?” he snaps right back at you, getting up as well. 

“Guys, please,” Chan tries gently, but you both ignore him. 

“I don't know! But it feels like shit, I'm just some bystander to you two being all lovey-dovey all day!” you burst out. 

“You’re pushing us away, you know that?” Minho retorts, his voice dripping with frustration and hurt. “You say you feel left out, but you've got walls so high, I need a damn ladder to get over them! Every time I try to initiate anything more than the crush behavior, as you put it, you back away.”

“I-” you start, but you can’t form any clear sentence in response. Minho is right, you’ve been denying him to go any further repeatedly.

Chan’s face grows pale, his eyes wide as he watches the confrontation unfold, seemingly frozen in place. “Can we... please not do this?” he stammers, his voice cracking under the strain. “This isn’t helping any of us.”

“You stay out of this!” Minho snaps, turning his glare briefly to Chan. The sharpness in Minho’s tone slices through the tension like a knife, leaving Chan blinking back tears, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to compose himself. “You don’t have to participate in this fight, but let me say my piece.”

“I’m trying to help!” Chan protests weakly, his voice trembling at the thought of you getting into a serious fight. Minho and you almost never fought, but if you did, it was always ugly, hurtful, and fucking loud. He didn’t like it before, but he could barely take it now, getting overwhelmed.  “I don’t want to see us fall apart over misunderstandings and hurt feelings!”

“Well, it’s not just about feelings, Chan!” you shout, your voice breaking as the tears start to fall. “It’s about being seen and heard in this relationship. I feel invisible most days, like I’m just here to fill a space between the two of you! It’s like you don’t care about me.”

Minho blinks at you, and you can tell he needs a moment to process your words. Then he explodes. “If you really feel this way, if everything I do is that useless and meaningless…then I don't know what the fuck I'm still doing here!”

“Minho,” you whisper in shock, and Chan's tears fall freely now. 

“Minho, please don’t say that,” Chan shakes his head, looking at him anxiously. 

“No, seriously, fuck this. Fuck you,” he says harshly, and you know he's trying to cover his hurt with anger. “I don’t care about you, yeah sure,” he goes on. “I stayed by your bedside for weeks, praying that you’d wake up. I have done nothing but respect your boundaries, give you the time you need, and make sure you’re comfortable. What the fuck do you need me to do to think I actually give a fuck about you?!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, and it has both you and Chan flinching heavily. It’s rare he loses composure like this. He’s breathing heavily once he’s done, staring at you with fierce but such vulnerable eyes it makes you sick. He nods to himself as you don’t answer and grabs his phone from the sofa. “You don’t even know what you need. How the fuck am I supposed to, huh?”

“Min, please,” Chan whispers, sensing how hurt his husband truly is behind his mask of anger. 

Minho’s expression softens for a moment, his anger faltering as he sees the tears streaming down his face. “I need a break,” he announces. “I’ll sleep in the guest room; I can’t do this right now.” He shakes his head and meets your eyes for a brief second. “Thanks for the talk,” he says sarcastically as you don’t respond to his prior statements.

You stand still for a second as he leaves before collecting your things as well. 

“Y/nnie,” Chan tries weakly.

“Don’t,” you say sharply, shaking your head. 

Chan flinches as the door to your bedroom slams closed and slumps onto the sofa, biting back a sob. He blindly reaches for his phone and blinks away tears to find his best friend’s number. Felix picks up after the second ring. “Lix, I-I know it’s late-,” he starts weakly.

“Where are you?” he asks worriedly at the distressed sound of his voice. “Do you need me to get you?” he asks, already getting up to search for his keys. His husband shoots him a questioning look, and Felix mouths Chan’s name. Changbin frowns worriedly, getting up as well and grabbing his keys. 

“Can I stay at yours? Just for tonight?” he sniffles helplessly. 

“Of course, Channie,” Felix says soothingly, slipping into his shoes. “You’re at home?” he asks carefully, leaving the house with Changbin right behind him. 

“Yeah…home,” he says, choking on the word. 

“We’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?” he asks gently, waiting for Chan’s quiet hum in response. “Deep breaths, Channie hyung, I’m sure whatever this is it can be fixed.”

“I’m not sure,” he answers shakily. “I’m really not.”

“They got into a fight?” he asks carefully, knowing how much it upset Chan. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. “It was bad, Lix, really, really bad.”

“I’m sorry, Channie,” he says softly. Only a little later Chan meets them in front of the house and they pull him into a tight hug. 

Changbin soothingly rubs his back. “Come on, Channie hyung, let's go,” he gently urges him to the car, handing him a tissue. “You can stay as long as you need to, okay?”

Chan nods and gets into the car, sinking into Felix's arms as the younger one sits down next to him. Felix gently rubs his shoulder and sighs. “It's gonna be okay, Channie.”

Three days later

Waking up, you notice Chan's side of the bed is still made, untouched from the night before. Minho is already downstairs, the clatter of dishes breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the house. As you walk into the kitchen, Minho’s posture stiffens, his usually warm eyes clouded with frustration.

“Good morning,” you say hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper, hoping to ease into the morning peacefully.

Minho nods without meeting your eyes, continuing his task. “Morning,” he replies shortly. 

“I was thinking we could all go out today, maybe get some fresh air together,” you suggest, trying to find a way to get you three to deal with what happened.

Minho pauses, placing a plate down a little too hard. “Chan isn’t feeling well,” he says shortly, finally looking up at you with a mix of irritation and exhaustion in his expression.

“Is it his headache again?”

“Probably,” Minho mutters, turning back to the dishes. “Or maybe it’s just an excuse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, your voice rising slightly in concern.

Minho sighs, a long, tired exhale. “It means maybe he’s just avoiding us. Avoiding this,” he gestures vaguely between the two of you.

“Minho, that’s not fair. You know how much he’s been struggling with everything,” you counter, feeling your heart rate pick up as the beginnings of anger mix with your worry.

“And what about us?” Minho snaps, his composure breaking. “When do we get to talk about how this is affecting us? You’re so focused on Chan. What about me? What about what I need?”

The accusation hits hard, opening a floodgate of emotions you’d both been tiptoeing around. “I’m trying to be here for both of you and fix this!” you exclaim, frustration overtaking your initial intent to keep the peace.

“Well, maybe try a little harder because I don’t feel it!” Minho’s voice escalates, his tone harsher than you’ve ever heard.

“Guys? What’s going on?” Chan’s weak voice comes from the doorway. His usual bright eyes are dim and shadowed with pain.

You both turn, startled, as Chan leans against the frame, looking between you two with a growing sense of dread. “I just needed some air, that’s all,” he murmurs, clearly caught off-guard by the newly thickened tension.

Minho’s expression softens slightly at the sight of Chan, but his frustration is far from appeased. “We’re just talking,” he says, though his voice suggests it was anything but a simple conversation.

Chan glances at you, his eyes searching for an ally. “It doesn’t sound like talking,” he comments softly, his tone hurt.

“You wouldn’t know; you’ve been avoiding us!” Minho’s outburst swiftly redirects the tension back to Chan.

“That’s not fair, Min,” Chan protests, his voice weak but filled with hurt. “I’m just trying not to make things worse.”

“By not talking? By hiding away?” Minho counters, his voice laced with bitterness.

“Enough!” you finally shout, unable to bear it anymore. “This isn’t helping anyone. We’re supposed to be in this together.” Both fall silent, the echo of your shout hanging between you. The air is thick with unsaid things, each of you caught in your own thoughts. “We need to fix this,” you say finally. “We can’t go on like this.”

Chan nods, looking exhausted. “I know,” he agrees quietly.

Minho doesn’t speak; his jaw clenches as he wrestles with his emotions, but his nod is agreement enough. You all sit down at the dinner table, facing each other.

Chan’s voice is gentle as he suggests, “Let’s each say something we feel without interruptions. Just listen to each other. Really listen.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I feel overlooked,” you begin, the words raw but necessary.

“I feel helpless,” Minho adds, his voice thick.

“I’m afraid of losing you both,” Chan admits, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.

The room grows silent as each confession hangs in the air. You all look at each other, the vulnerability shared creating a bridge that had been missing in the chaos of your misunderstandings.

Chan reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice steady despite the emotion. "I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t see how isolated you felt."

Minho exhales deeply, the tension easing from his shoulders as he acknowledges Chan's words. "And I... I've been so focused on not falling apart myself that I forgot to make sure we're all okay," he admits, his gaze shifting between you and Chan, a silent plea for forgiveness in his eyes.

It's your turn to respond, the atmosphere allowing for more open and heartfelt communication. "I've been afraid of burdening you both with my fears," you say, the admission freeing in its own way. "But I see now that keeping them to myself only creates more distance. I need to share more, not less," you continue, feeling a bit lighter with each word. "I need us to really be in this together."

Minho's hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "I've been scared," he admits, his voice cracking slightly. "Scared that pushing too hard or not enough could end up driving you away. But I see now that not communicating is just as damaging."

Chan, still visibly shaken but slowly regaining his composure, adds, "I thought I was protecting you both from my issues, but I was just isolating myself further. I promise to be more present, even when it's hard."

The conversation turns into a lengthy discussion in which each of you takes turns expressing thoughts and emotions that had been buried under daily routines and misunderstandings. It’s not just about voicing grievances; it’s about rediscovering each other's needs and reassessing how to support each other better.

Chan proposes a weekly check-in, a safe space where anything can be discussed without judgment, ensuring that no concern is too small or too trivial to be voiced. Minho suggests more one-on-one time with each of you to strengthen individual bonds that contribute to the health of the collective relationship.

In the following weeks, the impact of that conversation becomes evident. Slowly, the dynamics in your household start to shift. There's a newfound gentleness in your interactions, a deeper consideration for each other's mental spaces, and an active effort to engage without overwhelming one another.

Feeling less isolated, you find the courage to share your smaller daily fears and joys, discovering that these moments of sharing contribute significantly to your feeling of closeness with your husbands. 

In a relationship as complex and intertwined as yours, challenges are inevitable.

PART SEVEN | PART NINE

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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BRAVING THE SHADOW- HS

Summary- Harry’s son has night terrors and is in need of a child’s psychiatrist

The nightmares wouldn’t stop. They were on a constant repeat, night after night, plaguing Indis mind. Clowns with jagged teeth and glowing eyes chased him through darkened forests, their menacing laughs echoing in his ears. The ground beneath his feet felt like quicksand, threatening to swallow him whole with each step he took. He could run as fast as he could, but they still caught up to him.

In his dreams, the six year old was always alone. He would call out for his parents or his older brothers, but his voice would get lost in the void, unheard and unanswered. Fear gripped his heart, leaving him helpless in the face of his nightmares. The terror was so palpable that even when he woke, he could still feel his heart racing as if he actually had ran.

Every night was the same, the patterns repeating themselves, leaving Indi exhausted and afraid to close his eyes. He would lie in bed, wide awake, dreading the moment when sleep would claim him once more and plunge him into the depths of his subconscious fears. He tried to stay awake, to fight against the pull of sleep, but eventually, exhaustion would overcome him, and he would drift into fitful slumber.

From early on, Indi had decided that there was no escape from the horrors that awaited him in the darkness of his mind. It was as if his own mind had become a prison, trapping him in a never-ending cycle of fear and despair where each nightmare would take on new forms and shapes, each more terrifying than the last.

During a particularly scary night, Indi's night terrors worsened, tightening their hold on him with each passing moment. He jolted awake with a terrified cry, tears running down his face, frightened to spend another moment alone in his bedroom, the nightlight Harry put up his room doing nothing to help him.

Softly, Indi padded down the hallway, his small feet barely making a sound on the cold floor, his heart still pounding in his chest. He tried his best to be quiet, not wanting to disturb his older brothers who slept peacefully in their respective rooms. Once he reached the doorway of his parents' room, he paused, gathering his courage before gently pushing the wooden door open.

Inside, Harry and Y/N slept soundly, the only light in their room being the bright red numbers of their alarm clock. Indi approached the king sized bed, his bottom lip trembling as he hesitated for a moment before climbing in beside them. He tried his best to be quiet, not wanting to disturb his pregnant mother, whose rest was precious and very much needed. Indi was a worrier but also a nurturing soul. He knew y/n was having trouble getting enough sleep, the pregnancy being particularly hard on her.

Harry stirred awake, blinking away sleep as he felt the bed shift. His heart melted at the sight of his son, his tear-streaked face seeking comfort with him.

"Indi, buddy, what's wrong?" Harry whispered, his voice a comforting murmur in the stillness of the night.

Indi sniffled softly, trying to stifle his sobs as he climbed over Harry to nestle himself between his parents, seeking solace in the warmth of their embrace.

Y/N, stirred next, her maternal instincts instantly on high alert. She turned to see Indi nestled between her and Harry, his small form trembling with fear.

"What's the matter, lovebug?" she whispered, reaching out to stroke his hair gently. Although the other boys had their dads hair, Indi was all y/n. It made her smile as he seeked her comfort.

"I had a bad dream," Indi whispered, his voice barely audible.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Indi, pulling him close to her swollen belly so that he could feel the steady rhythm of the baby's movements beneath his touch, a comforting presence in the darkness of the night.

"It's okay, bug. You're safe now," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "We're here."

Harry squeezed Indi's small hand reassuringly, his heart aching at the thought of his son experiencing such fear. "We won't let anything happen to you, Indi. We promise."

With each soothing touch and whispered reassurance, the grip of fear began to loosen its hold on Indi's heart. He knew he would always find comfort in his parents arms so he let go, willing to fight his demons as he drifted off to sleep again. He made a silent vow to himself to be brave, not just for his sake, but for the sake of his soon-to-arrive baby sister. He knew he had to be big and strong for her.

A few days later, Harry and Y/N noticed that Indi's anxiety seemed to linger, dimming his usual playful spirit. Concerned for their son's well-being, they decided to seek professional help and make an appointment with a child psychiatrist.

As the morning of the appointment arrived, Harry and Y/N took on the delicate task of preparing Indi for his visit to the doctor. With tender hands and comforting words, they gently guided him through the morning routine, knowing the significance of the day ahead. Seated around the breakfast table, a hushed atmosphere enveloped the room, punctuated only by the clink of utensils. In a silent glance, Harry and Y/N affirmed their unwavering dedication to stand by Indi through his healing journey.

“Boys, why don’t you two go grab your school stuff whilst we talk to your brother” y/n began, smiling as Theo and Blake nodded and headed off to their rooms to grab their school bags. She nodded at Harry.

"Hey buddy," Harry began, his voice gentle, "Today we're going to visit a special doctor who knows a lot about helping kids feel better when they're feeling worried or scared."

Y/N reached out, placing a comforting hand on Indi's smaller hand. "It's perfectly normal to feel a little nervous, but we want you to know that we're right here beside you, okay? You're not alone in this."

Indi looked up at them, his eyes wide with uncertainty. "But what if the doctor doesn't understand?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry smiled reassuringly. "That's why we're going with you, champ. We'll all talk together, and the doctor will listen carefully to everything you have to say. She’s here to help, just like we are."

Y/N nodded in agreement. "And remember, lovebug, it's okay to share how you're feeling. This doctor is really good at figuring out how to make things better, but she need to know what's going on first."

Indi hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly, a small glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. "Okay," he said softly, "I'll try."

Harry squeezed Indi's hand, his heart swelling with pride. "That's my brave boy," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We'll get through this together, I promise."

As they entered the psychiatrist's office, Indi clung to his parents' hands, his anxiety heavy in the air. The waiting room was filled with colourful toys and books, but Indi seemed too preoccupied with his thoughts to pay them any attention.

Harry and Y/N sat beside him, offering quiet words of encouragement and support.

"Indi, lovie, it's going to be okay," Y/N whispered, her hand resting gently on his knee.

Harry squeezed Indi's shoulder reassuringly. "You're doing great, little man. We're all here for you."

Indi nodded, his eyes stayed fixated on the door across the room. Every creak of the floorboards made his heart race, anticipation and anxiety warring within him.

Finally, the door opened, and a warm smile greeted them. "Indi?" Dr. Fox called, her voice soft and inviting.

Indi took a deep breath and rose to his feet, his parents following close behind. He stepped into the office, his heart pounding in his chest as he settled into the chair opposite Dr. Fox’s desk, his feet swinging.

"Hello, Indi," Dr. Fox said warmly. "It's nice to meet you. How are you feeling today?"

Indi shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Okay, I guess," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"Can you tell me a little bit about what's been bothering you lately?" Dr Fox asked.

Indi shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I keep having bad dreams," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Clowns and stuff."

Dr. Fox nodded understandingly. "It sounds like those dreams have been really scary for you. Can you tell me more about them?" Indi hesitated for a moment, looking towards his dad.

“I know it can be scary opening up. But remember that this is a safe space, Dr fox wants to help you buddy.” Harry spoke softly, ruffling his hair.

Dr. Fox nodded “you can take your time”

Indi nodded for a moment before slowly opening up about his nightmares. He described the monsters and clowns that haunted his sleep, the fear that gripped his heart, and the sense of helplessness that lingered long after he woke.Harry and Y/N listened intently, their hearts breaking at the thought of their son struggling with such overwhelming emotions.

As Indi spoke, Dr. Fox listened attentively, offering words of reassurance and validation. She asked gentle questions, guiding him through his emotions and helping him to make sense of his experiences.

"You're a very brave boy for sharing your feelings with us, Indi," Dr. Fox said, her voice filled with warmth and admiration. "It takes a lot of courage to talk about things that scare us." Indi nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Together, they discussed coping strategies and techniques to help Indi manage his anxiety, from deep breathing exercises to creating a calming bedtime routine.

"Sometimes, when we feel scared or anxious, our bodies forget to breathe," Dr. Fox explained. "Taking slow, deep breaths can help calm your mind and relax your body."

Indi nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Like this?" he asked, mimicking the slow inhales and exhales Dr. Fox demonstrated.

"That's perfect, Indi," Dr. Fox said with a smile. "You can practice this whenever you start to feel scared or overwhelmed. Your daddy and mummy can help” the couple nodded, reassuring Indi that they would help in any way they can.

They also talked about creating a bedtime routine that would help Indi feel safe and relaxed before going to sleep.

"Having a consistent routine can signal to your brain that it's time to wind down and relax," Dr. Fox explained. "You could try things like reading a book, taking a warm bath, or listening to calming music."

Indi nodded eagerly, already thinking about which of his dads songs he’d listen to before bed. “Daddy, I want to listen to Fine Line tonight” he exclaimed to his dad, excited to try these thing that would hopefully stop his night terrors.

“I’ll play it for yah, don’t worry bud” Harry smiled. With each new strategy, Harry could see that Indi felt a little more empowered, a little more capable of facing his fears.

By the end of the appointment, Indi seemed a little lighter, a small spark of hope flickering in his eyes. Dr. Fox commended him for his courage in sharing his feelings and reminded him that he was not alone in his struggles.

Leaving the psychiatrist's office, Harry, Y/N, and Indi strolled hand in hand, their worries lightened by the promise of professional guidance.

"Thank you for being so brave today, Indi," Y/N said, squeezing her son's hand affectionately."We're going to get through this together."

#dad!harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #dad!harry #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

[puzzled-pegasus]

Do you ever just think about how awful it is to be a demigod before you know about it?

I've been thinking about it a lot lately. How much demigod kids and teenagers don't fit in with mortal society. Their mortal parents don't know what to do with them, even if they do care for them immensely. They are labeled as troublemakers, as bad kids, as mentally ill, as freaks and monsters who see things they shouldn't see and have an aversion to authority that they shouldn't have and a strong sense of justice and an inability to sit still, read, play, act, feel normally. Percy got in trouble for getting into fights, for speaking impulsively, he was mocked and spoken down to and expelled from lots of schools who couldn't handle him and he didn't know why until he was twelve years old. Sally wasn't able to tell him why.

Annabeth was the product of her father's relationship with a goddess, and he loved her for a while, but she wasn't a normal kid. When he fell in love with a mortal and Annabeth didn't get along with her or her kids, he chose the mortal side. How could he understand Annabeth's side? She was just a badly behaved kid, while his new wife and children were the normal good ones.

Jason always knew he was a demigod, he was accepted and praised and tons of expectations were placed on him from a frighteningly young age. Part of the reason the others resent him and see him as a sort of golden child is because he was placed on a pedestal and he will never, ever know what it was like for all of his friends to be looked down on as children, to be scolded for things they didn't understand and told that the things they saw and experienced constantly were not real.

Piper was always loved by her father but I think he loved the idea of her, he loved that she reminded him of the beautiful woman he met years ago. He was always kind to her and usually gave her things she wanted, but he couldn't always spend time with her as his job got busier. Piper sensed that her father's attention was occupied by something else, and as he got busier, she felt less supported and stole things and got in fights and her dad didn't know what to do with her after the BMW so she was sent to a troubled teen program where she was bullied for her disabilities and her race.

Leo feared his power because it killed the person he loved the most, and after that, everything in his life was hell. He didn't feel safe anywhere, he didn't have anyone he could trust, and adults saw him as a troublemaker who would never amount to anything.

The books don't emphasize these things as much with any of the other demigods, or maybe Annabeth, Percy, Piper, and Leo are the best examples we have. I just. They're so tragic. They're all my children all of them. I love them and I feel so sad for them

#heroes of olympus #percy jackson #pjo hoo #hoo #heroes of olympus headcanon #character analysis #unfiltered thoughts #annabeth chase #piper mclean #leo valdez #jason grace #my CHILDREN

[writers-potion]

when writing enemies to lovers, how to I avoid the trope of “hes mean to me but it’s okay because he likes me” and make the mmc redeemable after being mean, because so far all I have is have her be just as bad 😭 (I don’t know if I worded that right)

Redeeming The Bad Boy Character

Drop Subtle Hints of Redeemability

Okay. Rule Number 1 for romance heroes: They need to be LOVABLE. Full stop. 

Before you start coming up with possible justifications, place the actions of your bad boy on the emotional balancing scale of your girl. Do his real feelings shine through the meanness on the surface?

What readers usually DON’T want to see redeemed is:

Outright lying/manipulating the girl 

Being obsessive and controlling 

Physical/emotional bullying (i.e. stuff that real bullies would do)

“Crossing the line”: This will depend on character - like insulting a disabled sister the girl character feels super protective towards (like NO PLEASE NO)

Even if the “enemy” phase of your romance is meant to be intense, your bad boy needs to display “goodness of heart”. This is easy if you’re switching POVs or 3rd person omniscient where you can show him secretly beating himself in regret, trying to make up with her behind her back although she doesn’t know, etc. 

Even if you’re doing the girl’s 1st person POV, drop subtle hints that the guy character isn’t as mean as the girl is made to believe:

Him having the reputation with friends/teachers/neighbors for being kind 

Him being awarded in school for good deeds

The girl’s friend telling her stories about how the guy actually seems nice. If this is a YA setting, you can even get away with explicit comments like, “maybe you’re judging him too hard”, etc. 

A good example is Bryce  in <Flipped>:

Bryce is an innately shy middle schooler who finds himself inadvertently influenced by his toxic dad, who looks down on the girl (Juli) and her family. 

By flipping over to Bryce’s POV, his reluctance for the “mean” things he’s done is revealed (he’s kinda scared of his dad + he’s never been taught better)

Eventually, Bryce grows up and learns to treat Juli better. 

If you’re going to use family history/backstory as justification, remember:

The backstory doesn’t justify anything by just existing. That’s called an excuse. 

The bad boy needs to have a point of realization and grow up, moving away from his dark past into the light, towards the love interest. 

Misunderstanding

Another way to redeem a bad boy character is to shift some blame on the female character too. In fact, every story has two sides - the girl has her own goals and biases. 

For example:

Academic or workplace rivals: since the girl has to compete with him, she will tend to take offhand comments offensively, etc. 

A third person badmouthing the buy deliberately to the girl

The girl overhearing the guy saying something bad about her (which wasn’t in fact the case) and being determined to not like anything he does after

Make Him Suffer 

If you want to give your girl some backbone, just make her fight back! “Fighting back” can be in different forms:

Ignoring the guy outright

Just giving her another potential love interest who treats her better 

She literally correcting him with awesome logic and maturity that make him shut up

She crying (either out of madness or sadness), then proceeding to avoid him actively

Write about how your bad boy will eventually realize his mistakes and come around after he takes a real blow. Think about why your bad boy is being mean in the first place: it’s to get her attention. Tit-for-tat can work for female characters who have some teeth, but doing the same things he does would mean that she IS giving him attention, which ironically fulfills his initial motives. 

Personally, I think the best way to “fight back” is to no longer give him the attention, hinting that the girl wishes to move on from this unhelpful relationship status. This will set off warning signs in the MMC’s head that if he doesn’t change his ways, she would be gone for good. 

The point is, if your girl cannot tolerate something, you can’t make her sit around. If your boy is mean and immature, she needs to be the one to take the mature step - and walk away.

Apologizing in the Other Character’s Style

What the MMC will need to do to gain the girl’s attention back will depend on what she thinks, but this will often involve:

Explaining his true motivations/resolving the misunderstanding

A genuine apology 

Spending some time apart during which he can reflect and make up to her 

Undoing the damage, if this is possible

If she’s been just as bad as him on occasions, make her reciprocate the apology! Re-establish healthy boundaries that didn’t exist before, and show how they stick to it. 

#writers block #writing #creative writing #helping writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr #poets and writers #let's write #resources for writers #writers and poets #creative writers #writerscommunity #writing questions #writers of tumblr #writers life #writer stuff #writers community #writing problems #writing prompt #writing process #writing progress #writing practice

[multifandumbmeg]

Subtle JJ things I noticed that keep me up at night:

1. The way they changed the styling of his clothes from season 1 to season 2. Season one he's already pretty ripped but he mostly wears these loose-fitting tshirts and cutoffs that make him look cute, lanky, and unthreatening. Season 2 he mostly wears tight-fitting tshirts that make him look CONSIDERABLY beefier and generally is seen wearing more layers- it's technically Fall but he covers up more than other characters do and it has the effect of him seeming more closed off and isolated than the others, which he is. Season three his style is somewhere in between, not super tight but not lanky and loose either, like he's found a better balance.

2. His drinking. Season 1 he's partying a lot with beer and frankly, high most of the time. Season 2 he starts carrying around the flask- presumably liquor, not beer- and drinking non-socially. Before school. At John B's "funeral". That night they're stranded with Kie and Pope on the way to Charleston. The others aren't drinking at all, nor does he offer them some, then he seemingly (to Kie) falls asleep with the open flask in hand... Like he's been drinking himself to sleep, and this has probably become a habit. This is clearly because he's depressed, and though I think John B's "death" is the catalyst, it's clearly not the only reason as it continues through season 2, for example the aforementioned Charleston trip. I think John B's death, going no-contact with his dad, living alone at the chateau, Pope and Kie's relationship, have all led him to feel extremely isolated and he's clearly coping with substances even worse than before. Not to mention he's free of his dad for the first time, completely after he leaves OBX, which means for the first time in his life he's probably processing his trauma, which is what tends to happen once you find yourself no longer in a continually traumatizing situation. That would also account for his moodiness and increasing dependence on substances. I think it's also interesting we see him smoking weed less, but drinking more heavily. I think they did this to show a marked change in his already concerning substance use from season 1 from "bad coping mechanism, gets him through the day in relatively good spirits" to genuinely concerning and potentially volatile, over-using a substance his biological was known to be addicted to. Note this abruptly ends at the end of season 2 with being stranded on the island with all the Pogues. There are zero substances on the island, but it's clear it's the happiest he's ever been. A lot goes down after they get off the island but he seems to minimally fall back into old patterns in season 3. Apart from hanging out and partying a socially acceptable amount with his friends, the only time I remember him using is when he's drinking beers alone at his house- when he gets home and everyone's reuniting with their families and when he's fighting with Kiara because of their moment. When he feels alone and scared. I'm curious to see his development in season 4.

3. His lack of fear/loss of fear in death. Bro, nobody talks about how differently he reacts to danger between seasons 1 and 2. All throughout season 1, JJ is an anxious wreck and his response to being threatened is always submission, fear, and an instinct to run. When there's guns on him he gets the fuck down. He puts his hands up. He looks visibly terrified. Multiple times you can see him VISIBLY shaking. When the thugs are attacking Miss Lana, he's trembling with his eyes closed and trying not to make a sound. He begs John B to leave while it's happening and after when he sees her reaction. Even when Barry tries to rob them, furious though he is, he follows Barry's demands and doesn't fight back until John B starts it and makes an opportunity. As Kiara so aptly puts it, "he has the survival instincts of a cockroach." He does! But everything changes when he tries to grab the money and run from his dad. Again, he doesn't want a fight. But he gets one, and he's finally tired of it. He's been beat up and threatened and stolen from one time too many, and the threat of death is no longer a more powerful motivator than his wants. So he attacks his dad back and puts him in his place. He once again puts his hands up when Barry and Rafe come for him at the Phantom, but he doesn't look as scared. John B's "death" may be the final nail in the coffin, because starting season 2? He's not scared anymore when he should be. Despite the fact that he appears to be having panic attacks and worse anxiety than ever, every gun that's pointed at him or fight that breaks out he just rolls with. One of the only times I can see his survival instincts crop up in season 2 is when Kiara yells "murderer" at Ward seconds after he straight up killed someone with a gun, which is a normal human reaction and may have had more to do with protecting his friends. He just seems numb to most of the danger. Then again, season 3, he almost seems to find a balance. He's still doing some reckless things, and no longer cowering in the face of enemies, but he also knows who the dangerous people are, and when to wheel and deal or turn away and come fight another day.

Anyway, I'm very curious to see how he evolves in season 4, now that he's establishing his own life, financially secure, on good terms with all his friends and (hopefully) in a committed relationship. Let me know if I missed any other interesting character changes patterns for JJ or any other characters from the show! I would love to read/hear what you noticed and your own in-depth character analysis. JJ's my favorite character and a super rich text, so I tend to hyperfocus on him. Also if you want to request me to make one of these on one of the other characters let me know! I would love to zero in on them and see what I missed on my next watch-through.

#obx #outer banks #jj maybank #analysis #JJ Maybank character analysis #character analysis #Me when I read the text too deeply #Cannot consume media normally #Must psychoanalyze

[ofstardustanddreaming]

AHHH!!! I saw that you write for my FAVORITE character ever which gale from bg3!

So if you haven't done this already could you please do some cuddle time with him? I need the fluff 🩷 thanks so much!

this is genius, i love Gale lol. cuddling with him would fix every issue i have. i also hope you don't mind if i took the request in a slightly different format! i wanted to do the 4 times character does x, and the 1 time you do x.

cuddle bug

oneshot summary: 4 times gale initiates cuddles with you, and the 1 time that you initiate cuddles with gale. (gale is a major cuddle bug and would love pulling you in at any point. not that you wouldn't pull him in for a cuddle, he just loves pulling you in more.)

content warnings: none

fandom: baldur's gate 3

character: gale dekarios x reader

gender neutral reader

one: The first time that Gale pulls you into a cuddle session is at camp, and you're both new to the relationship. It's a nerve wracking way to make contact, and it feels awkward. But it's warm. He wanted to cuddle and be close to you, and what better way than to do it awkwardly.

The night is warm and fireflies are flying around everywhere. The camp members are enjoying themselves for the first time in a couple months, where missions are completed and there's a little bit of down time to enjoy the night. You and Gale officiated your relationship last week, and now have the first night to enjoy the branching of your relationship.

You sit next to him at a more secluded area of the camp, ensuring a moment of silence for you both. Gale grabs your hand as you both talk the night away, the feeling of warmth causing you to shiver.

"It's a nice night. And you're a great leader to be able to pull this off tonight." He glances over at you, both of you smiling at one another. Then he does the unexpected, where he pulls you into his arms, holding you close. You lean into the warmth of his embrace, enjoying the body heat when you're both away from the fire.

He pulls you over to his bed roll to continue the cuddle session, where you both felt a bit odd about it. You could never figure out if you were applying too much pressure, or if you adjusted yourself if that would create an issue of moving too much. Sure, it was awkward. But it allowed you both to know what cuddling positions you'd love moving forward.

two: The second time Gale pulls you in for a cuddle is after an intense session of a battle. He was worried that you had died, and never wanted to let you leave his arms again.

The fight with Thorm nearly took you out, your health very low. Shadowheart barely managed to keep you alive with her healing, but advised you get strong rest before moving on to the next quest to be filled. Gale, the man that he is, was sick with worry throughout your entirety of healing.

He found himself sitting next to you while you rested, very hesitant to touch you within the first few days, not wanting to make any injuries you had worse. But when you show some signs of being on the mend, he wasted no time laying down next to you, pulling your head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around you as delicately as possible. He didn't want to move you too much, knowing that it can worsen injuries. But it was a nice initial point for him to have.

"Gods, you had me worried deeply for a while there." He murmurs to you, who's barely conscious to hear him say that. He slowly runs one hand over your arm that had reached over to wrap around your chest.

He just wanted to see you safe, the worry he felt seeing you on the brink of death was enough to shake him. He vowed from then on to be as much of help as possible to you in fights.

three: The third time Gale pulls you in is when he senses you've had a bad day. He's never one to shy away from the thought that a good cuddle session can fix a bad mood.

He finds you kicking dirt around on the outside of camp. You have the list of quests in your hand, frustrated at how much needed to be completed. You truly want to be helpful to them, to help as many people as you can, but it was burning you out at both ends. Something that Gale could tell, and his heart hurt for you.

He approaches you where you are, grabbing you by the shoulders. It takes one gentle look from him for you to start choking on your cries, and he pulls you close. He knows you need the lightest cuddle session to help you feel better, with light bouts of praise from him. Which is exactly what he supplies.

He wrestles you over to his tent, the headache you have pounding away. The dusk of the night was coming upon you all, and you feel as if there would be no time to sleep if you had to get to these missions soon. But he pulls you down with him, ensuring you were comfortable.

"Oh, sweet love, you're doing so well. You have the weight of the world on your shoulders right now, but you're doing so well." He says, the way he was cuddling with you feels like a weighted blanket. It lulls you to a calm sleep that night, to wake in the morning with a fresh start.

four: The fourth time that Gale wants cuddles is after an argument. You both always need a breather after an intense argument, but you'll always find your way back to each other to talk things through, and then move into comfort of each other's arms.

Oh, the argument was massive. It took a toll on you both, where eventually the camp had to pull you guys away from each other to cool it down. They really felt worried when Gale's magic started sparking, not wanting the orb to go off, and you had your hand on your weapon, they didn't want you to pull it out to start swinging.

The camp had split off into teams to watch over the both of you, letting you both get what you needed to off your chests. Then they would all shove you towards each other to say those rants to one another in a calmer fashion. You both speak with a softness to one another now, trying to see the other's viewpoint.

"I'm so sorry love." Was how Gale responded to your responding of love, and he pulled you in close to him. He is usually the first to reach to you after an argument as well, wanting you in his arms as quick as he can.

You lean into the touch, craving the touch of the man you love. You're always there to accept it, glad he would be the one to offer, always nervous about the rejection if you offered it. You always tend to worry after an argument, if he would ever take you back. So it always makes you happy that he wants to cuddle you close after such an argument.

one: The one time that you pull Gale in for a cuddle session is when he's had a bad day. When he's had a day of insecurities, wondering if he's good enough for you, is when you know you have to pull him in. He'll be too nervous to seek you out. He finds solace in your arms at night, getting comfort from you when you hold him and say he's enough.

Mystra had really done a number on him. He felt he had to live up to imaginary expectations you had in order for you to still want him. It takes time to get over that sort of line of thinking, and you reassure him that you'd never leave him based on what he thought you would want from him.

"I don't expect you to be perfect, or to be a strong wizard in order for me to be with you, you know. I'm with you Gale, because you're the kindest, sweetest person who does kind things for me. Such as cuddling me when I'm feeling down. You brighten my days with your stories." You comfort him, pulling him into your chest, where he buries himself into your neck.

"I don't ever want to leave you." You whisper to him, letting him get every ounce of emotion out on you, as you run your hands through his hair. He sighs shakily, and you feel the tears on your neck. It's a quiet night, nothing more is needed as you continue to whisper praises into his ear as you both fall asleep.

#bg3 #bg3 imagine #bg3 oneshot #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 imagine #baldur's gate 3 oneshot #gale #gale imagine #gale oneshot #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios imagine #gale dekarios oneshot

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

THE TRADER’S DAUGHTER — cooper “the ghoul” howard x female!oc

warnings(?): dbf!cooper, female!oc, oc is described as brown eyed (but feel free to picture whatever you want), proofread to the best of my ability (correcting capitalization is not my priority on my phone, this is hard enough to format as is), this series will have smut at some point but let me work up to writing that (meaning, let me smoke this joint and see where the wind takes me), there’s allusion to smut in this towards the end but it’s nothing wild

(this is part one of some)

Daisy hadn’t seen Cooper for a very, very long time. She’d never forgotten the charismatic cowboy that told her stories of the old world and of his encounters with creatures in the wasteland. The ghoul that would bring her little trinkets from his travels, gifting her a pearl necklace for her 10th birthday. A single pearl on a dainty silver chain that she would wear every day until it wore out. She was 13 when that happened, and was utterly devastated. Thankfully, she had charmed a local boy for a new chain, sneaking behind her dad’s back to go on a few dates with the kid. She’s continue to flirt with men and make empty promises to them to replace the chain each time it broke.

Cooper had gotten himself into some thick shit, spending a good time locked up by some raiders and other bullshit that got him sidetracked. On the other side of the goddamn wasteland, on the fucking east coast. How did he even get to the fucking east coast? By the time he made it back to the trading post, over a decade had passed, and it showed in the size of the once-familiar settlement. More gambling, more fighting in the streets, whole lotta bad shit that he didn’t have time to get involved with. He made his way through the town, his gaze trained on the old trading post at the center of town. He took careful notice of how men sneered at him as he passed by them, mumbling some racist bullshit about his ghoulishness.

Fuck them, he thought as he stepped up to the door of the trading post. He opened the door to hear the old bell jingle to alert his presence, watching as a young woman walked out from the back room with a routine “Welcome to Jo’s Shack, what can I get you?” leaving her pretty pink lips.

Daisy was almost in shock, seeing the ghoul standing in her doorway. She had assumed the worst over the years, as his visits had become less and less until they were not at all. She figured he was dead, shriveled up and baking in the sun. Or worse, she worried he had gone feral, which was always going to be inevitable in his case. Either way, she would keep extra chems stocked for the day he returned.

Cooper strolled towards the counter and looked at the girl, recognizing those big brown eyes from a mile away. “Hey, little flower. Your daddy around?” He asked her, his eyes flickering down to look at the pearl around her neck. Huh, he didn’t know she’d have kept it all those years. Pretty things were hard to keep around these parts.

Daisy’s face broke out into a grin and she gave him a little nod, leaning forward to get a good look at him. “Sure is, I’ll go get him for you. he’s not gonna believe this.” She had to fight to maintain her composure and keep her excitement at bay, going through the back room and up the stairs to the second floor of the shack to where her father was sleeping. In the ghoul’s absence, Daisy had grown to be a respectable trader, taking over the face of her father’s shop after growing up learning from the best. Although the population was tougher, she was just as tough, and nobody dared to fuck with Jo’s Shack or the woman running the place.

She stepped back out to the main room and leaned against the newly-reinforced counter, a bright smile on her face as she gazed up at him. He was just as handsome as she remembered, though she was never truly able to capture how his eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Flower, you are just as pretty as a peach.” Cooper flashed her a wide grin, unashamedly flirting with the girl who he had essentially watched grow up. And whew, did she grow up good. He couldn’t help himself as he let his sunken eyes roam over the smooth, exposed skin of her chest, the tank top she wore under her unzipped jacket left little to the imagination.

Daisy thought his southern drawl was absolutely intoxicating as she slid a little box of chem vials across the counter to him, “Thank you, Coop. Don’t tell dad I gave these to you.” She winked and leaned back as her dad came out to greet his old friend, letting the two men greet each other like they hadn’t spent any time apart.

“Cooper Howard, you son of a bitch! I hope you brought me that Brahmin you still owe me.” Josiah grinned as he pulled the ghoul in for a hug, giving him shit over some long-forgotten wager on a card game. Coop patted him on the back with a shit-eating grin, “Yessir, why, yo’ momma’s waitin’ outside!”

Daisy watched Cooper closely as she stood beside her dad, taking in the way his skin had started to redden in places she didn’t remember being scarred over before. She had spent her whole adolescence infatuated with him, playing it off as a silly little girl crush on a big strong man (who had killed for her, but that’s a story for another day.) Her pulse quickened as she overhead her father invite the ghoul inside for a drink and to rest, watching him come around the counter to push through the curtains leading to the back.

It was fucked up, Cooper knew that. He knew it was fucked up to already be thinking about the woman behind him. Thinking about how sweet she sounded when she said his name, thinking about that little pearl necklace dangling in his face as she skillfully sat atop his—

He really needed that drink, and maybe a puff of his inhaler before he went feral at the thought of something as soft and pretty as his Daisy having anything to do with something as scarred and distorted as him.

a/n: okay yall what do we think about part one? I got to the app to post it and immediately rewrote the ending because I hated the original, so I hope this was good!

taglist: @savanahc @one-of-thewalkingdead @silverose365 @neverendingdumptser

#the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul fanfiction #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout imagine #cooper howard smut #teehee