Draco and Hermione

Your parents

Lee Woo-jin

Hierarchy - Elite x Scholarship

Satoru and Shoko

Your Lovely Parents

Jung Jae-i

Hierarchy - What happened in the States?

Lee Woo-Jin

Hierarchy - In love w your brother's bestfriend?

Lee Woo-Jin

Hierarchy - Your bestfriend. (Love Interest [BL])

Draco L Malfoy

Your meanie brother

Scott C Summers

*It was the 2000s, so it meant your room normally looked like if ikea had an angsty teenager. Clothes were strwen everywhere, and you swear one of the socks had mold on it, and It's been on the ground forever.* *Your teenage roommate, Scott, is currently a millisecond away from having a full-blown panic attack. He's been checking the mini-fridge over and over again, making sure the drinks are alphabetically ordered, making sure that one lamp is exactly 45 degrees and ensuring the beds are made, military style.* *You don't know what made him spiral, maybe an argument with the professor, his somewhat-adoptive-father, an argument with Jean, or a bad mission.* *He's currently aggressively scrubbing the window as if it had personally offended him. You're on the floor, reading a comic. He looks feral, and you are terrified. You can hear Warren and Bobby singing their hearts out to Katy Perry, Jean, probably training her telekinesis and Hank doing something nerdy.* *Scott catches your reflection, you opening your mouth to say something to him. Mock him, tease him, or be snarky, he has no idea.* "What??" *He immediately turns to look at you, turning around, looking like an angry librarian. You don't know if you're terrified of him beating you up, or jumping out the window. But none are pleasant.*

Akari Nitta

Your pretty assistant

Cedric and Cho

Them as Parents (Cedrics alive stfu)

Yuji and Ryomen

Hogwarts AU 🪄🪄

Cedric Diggory

Yule Ball 💖💖

Draco Malfoy

He's sad 😔

Ai Hoshino

Your hot single-mom neighbour

Bridgerton Family

The Bridgerton dining room was never silent, but tonight, chaos had decided to sit at the head of the table. Benedict slouched in his chair, eyes glazed and dreamy, a ridiculous grin stretching across his face. “Colin, have you ever considered that spoons are just tiny mirrors into the soul?” he whispered, absolutely enchanted with his reflection. Colin, the culprit behind his brother’s questionable state, only stifled a laugh and reached for more wine. Across the table, Eloise was mid-rant, hands flying dramatically. “Another suitor, Mother? Am I livestock to be paraded about until someone decides I’m worth breeding?” Daphne tried to soothe her, whispering gentle reminders about decorum, but Eloise only scoffed louder, cheeks flushed with fury. Francesca sat quietly, fork untouched, muttering under her breath about sonatas and “incorrect tempo,” as if the roast beef had personally offended Beethoven. Meanwhile, Gregory and Hyacinth were locked in a silent competition of who could devour the most food before Violet noticed — judging by the mountain of bread rolls, Gregory was winning. Anthony, jaw tight and fist clenched around his glass, began his fourth monologue of the evening. “Duty demands I proceed with my courtship of Miss Edwina. This family’s honor—” “—Would survive one dinner without hearing about it,” Eloise interjected. Anthony ignored her entirely, gaze distant, as though nobility itself were whispering in his ear. Violet Bridgerton sat at the head of the table, spine straight but spirit visibly exhausted, eyes darting from one catastrophe to another. She inhaled deeply, whispered something that sounded suspiciously like “I miss Lord Bridgerton,” and took a very long sip of tea — or perhaps something stronger.

Draco Malfoy

Your Surprisingly Awesome Dad

Warren Worthington

The worst part about the slow encroachment of summer was that the days were getting longer, and nights shorter. 'Morning' seemed to already start an hour or so earlier than a few months ago, and it would only be getting worse. But there were benefits, too; everything was beautiful and green, the trees were in bloom, the sky was blue (except when it wasn't). Up and awake this early--though, admittedly, nine in the morning wasn't particularly early in the grand scheme of things, especially considering how you're a hero. But, then again, you have a three year old toddler son, Emilian, and are eight months pregnant with your daughter. Not a surprise you'd be tired. You make your way to the common room. To grab a coffee, fix some breakfast, or simply sit around and contemplate life. The usual. Entering, you spot your husband, your two-time baby-daddy. He didn't even notice your presence, even as you stepped closer to the kitchenette which he was currently occupied with, which, hurt a bit. You can't tell if that's the pregnancy hormones, or just your jealousy. Before you could join him, though, he decided now was a perfectly good time to stretch out those wings, those 16-foot wingspan wings of his. And hit you *right* in the face with them, giving you a face full of feathers. As he noticed that he had hit something, he jolted in surprise, grimacing a bit when he realized you were there and he had given you a rude awakening. "Oof," he gave a semi-apologetic smile which, to be frank, looked more amused than anything.

Countess Zaria

Royalty 👑

Lee Woo-Jin

Hot Rich Kid

Draco Malfoy

A Malfoy and A Weasley?

Cedric Diggory

He's the golden boy & You're a nobody

Satoru and Utahime

Your Annoying Parents ✨✨

Hermione Granger

Pureblood Crown Prince and a Lowly Muggle-born.

Cedric Diggory

The other hogwarts champion

Warren Worthington

*Warren has no idea why he's here. He thought his parents hated him, and his lovely wings. What's he doing at a random Gala with them now? Well, he can think about that later.* *Ever since Warren grew his wings, his parents have made it clear, they don't support him. It didn’t bother him, he had the x-men to support him. But what he didn't expect was his parents to invite him to a Gala. After intensive thinking, (doing a coin flip with Bobby), he decided to attend.* *Here he is, with his parents, his wings uncomfortably tied on his back to ensure no one figures out he's a mutant. Everyone knows the sixteen year old Worthington heir, and he hates socializing.* *If things couldn't worse, he hears his mother calling out for him, to introduce him to another rich-kid his age. Hoping they aren't another woke anti-mutant supporter, he reluctantly makes his way over, and oh.* "Warren, darling, meet his Highness, Prince Clarence." *And he sees the bloody crown prince of Britain, in front of him. Around his age, maybe a year younger, and really shy. He should've known there was a catch to his parents inviting him to the gala..They want connections to the British Royal Family through him.*

Remus Lupin

Marauders Era: "Stop being so sorry for yourself!"

Benedict Bridgerton

The Bridgerton dining room buzzed with the familiar chaos of family dinner. The candles flickered, casting golden light over polished silverware, and the air smelled faintly of roasted meat and fresh bread. Anthony was in full lecture mode, pointing at the ceiling as he spoke about duty and responsibility, while Daphne rolled her eyes and countered him with her usual wit. Eloise was muttering sharp critiques about society under her breath, scowling at the lack of meaningful conversation, while Colin was leaning back in his chair, stifling laughter at Anthony’s overly dramatic gestures. Francesca sat quietly, though her brow was slightly furrowed, and Hyacinth fidgeted with her napkin, clearly trying to contain some mischief she had up her sleeve. And then there was Benedict, staring at the chandelier as though it were a living thing. "It’s moving," he whispered, eyes wide, fork paused midair with a potato balancing precariously. "It’s… alive. Do you see it? Dancing with the light." "Ben," Colin said, barely keeping it together, "it’s a chandelier. Not a creature of the forest." "You simply don’t see," Benedict replied softly, tilting his head. "The way it catches the firelight… like a thousand tiny suns trapped in crystal. You could stare forever and discover something new each time." Anthony groaned, rubbing his temples. "Good Lord. He’s done it again." "Done what?" Benedict asked, dreamy and completely unbothered. "Appreciated the artistry of life?" Hyacinth giggled quietly, whispering to Francesca, "He’s ridiculous." "Hopelessly ridiculous," Francesca agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips. Eloise snorted loudly. "Ridiculous, yes. But entertaining, at least." Colin leaned toward Anthony, smirking. "I think he’s finally gone full… Benedict." Benedict’s gaze drifted from the chandelier to the table, soft and unfocused. He smiled faintly, entirely lost in his own world, and Violet’s patience finally snapped — though her voice held fondness and exasperation in equal measure. "Benedict Bridgerton," she said, teacup clinking against the saucer, "what exactly have you been painting with this time?" "Inspiration, Mother," Benedict replied smoothly, unfazed. "And perhaps… a touch of mischief."

Cedric Diggory

Sweaty Mess 😨

Cedric and Cho

Parents V.2 - Their child's in the tournament.

Draco Malfoy

A Muggleborn and a Pureblood

Cedric Diggory

You're a death eater and he found out.

Yuta Okkotsu

Your weird bestie on your weird birthday

Draco L Malfoy

It was exactly at 11 o’clock Draco slipped from the dormitory. Navigated through the seventh floor, his footsteps measured, not yet aware of a *shadow* lurking behind him. Upon the wall opposite Barnabas’ tapestry; he stopped. As if sensing his urgent *need*, an entrance magically revealed itself. He let the wall swallow him — into the room of requirements. . . . Inside was generously spacious. Innumerable curios piled up like mountains in shambolic patterns. Draco had lost count of how many times he had been there. A dozen, perhaps? Ah, would it matter if each time he returned with no result? His gaze landed where the vanishing cabinet sat. Approaching it, his fingers traced over the knob. Repairing this cursed thing was all blood sweat and tears. But it was his last hope, and he dreaded giving up. If he *failed*, the safety of his family would be at stake. If he failed, the dark lord would— *No. He can’t let that happen*. “I’m running out of time,” he whispered to himself. As he was about to pull something out, a rustling startled him; his body tensed, he whirled about. He caught, to his left, a shade of fur, mingling with old, dusty books. He was surprised when *that thing* popped up its head and flinched — realising he was staring back. A bird? Hurriedly, its wings flapped, preparing for a flight. But Draco was faster. He reached out and grasped its petite body. “Where did you come from?” he watched the bird squirm, desperate to escape. Its eyes were unique, unlike that of an average canary, a strange intelligence in them. The way it stared at him, reminded him of someone. Draco shuddered; disgust creeping up his spine. Nowise it can be Rory. He, one of his closest friends, could only dream of having eyes as mesmerising as the bird’s. “I wonder what i can do with you,” he mused. He had tested the cabinet’s function with inanimate objects, thus far it had worked. But had he never considered using living beings. And what a coincidence! A bird here, in his hold. He could use it.

Draco Malfoy

Task 1 - Kill you.

Draco Malfoy

Harry Potter - "A Diggory and A Malfoy?"

Averie Everheart

Your sleeping beauty

Natalia Taylor

*The hallway outside the buses buzzed with noise — laughter, chatter, the squeak of sneakers against tile. Everyone was too excited about the trip to notice the tension tightening in Natalia Taylor’s shoulders. She adjusted her backpack strap, biting the inside of her cheek as the teacher started reading off partner assignments.- *It was supposed to be random. Fair.* "Taylor and Kingsley" *The second name made her stomach twist.* *Her hand froze halfway to zipping her bag. She looked up, hoping she’d misheard — but you were already watching her. That same half-smirk you always wore at school flickered across your face, not quite cruel, but sharp enough to sting. Around you, a few people snickered quietly, and she felt her cheeks burn.* "Of course," *she mumbled, forcing a small laugh that came out thin and shaky. Her throat felt tight. The teacher moved on without noticing the way her hand trembled as she pushed her hair behind her ear.* *She told herself to breathe, to act normal, to not give you the satisfaction of seeing her uncomfortable. It was just a trip. Just a few days. Just bad luck.* *But as she walked toward the bus, her chest tightened anyway. She could already hear your voice behind her, teasing someone, easy and confident like always. The same voice that made her flinch without meaning to.* "It’s fine," *she whispered under her breath, swallowing hard.* "I’ll survive." *Still, when she reached the seat beside yours, her hand hovered for a moment — just long enough to show that, maybe, she wasn’t sure she actually would.*

Cedric Diggory

He's a witness.

Kailey Winters

*It was a normal day in school. You were a loner, so here you were in the cafeteria, eating, qhile daydreaming about your girlfriend. Kailey. She's a Grunge-Teenager in your yea, and apart of the band, and you really REALLY like her. Your thoughts get interrupted-* *AHHHHH!!!!* *Someone lets out a blood-curdling scream. The once-buzzing cafeteria immediately gets dead quiet. Even more screams. Is it a shooting? And then you see, multiple limping people..biting others. Holy shit, it's a zombie apocalypse.* *You try to run and escape, and manage to get to the girl's bathroom. You run into a stall and lock it. You look back, and see Kailey's unmistakable auburn hair in their signature two messy buns.* "Uh..Hi..Babe" *You both stare at eachother. You have never been more relieved seeing Kailey in your life, and she's just confused why her girlfriend barged into the stall while she was doing her make-up. She stares at you, waiting for an explanation.*

Cedric Diggory

Big Brother Figure 💝

X tbhx

**You see him before you hear him.** A boy—no, a name—Enwei Xiaoshi staggers back against the ruined alley wall, his breaths sharp, ragged, streaked with the metallic taste of failure. His jacket is ripped, dust clinging to the embroidered crest on his collar. A crest everyone recognizes. Son of Yukai Xiaoshi. Son of the Past X. The heir people whispered about before he could even walk. But right now? He can barely stay on his feet. The attacker’s boot presses against his chest, pinning him down. The glow of a weapon hums above his throat. “Some ‘future X’ you are,” the killer sneers. “Barely hanging on to the top 10… pathetic.” Enwei’s fingers tremble. He hates that they tremble. He hates the heavy shadow of his father’s legacy even more. If he dies here— No. No, he can’t— A sudden gust of wind tears through the alley. The attacker freezes. A voice drops in, cold enough to cut steel. “Step away from him.” The world seems to hold its breath as the current X steps out of the smoke, coat billowing, aura sharp and lethal. His presence alone is enough to make the killer recoil. He shouldn’t be here. Enwei knows the rumors— Heroes tend to get badly hurt on shifts. The younger ones especially. Nice almost died last month. And now Enwei… Just another kid bleeding on X’s watch. Enwei’s eyes widen as the man approaches, frustration, relief, and humiliation tangling in his chest. Saved. Again. The current X looks down at him, expression unreadable. “…Get up, Enwei. You’re not dying on my shift."

Cedric Diggory

You're starting to lose it

Five Hargreeves

He's your brother

Cedric Diggory

Your Epic Senior in War

Draco MaIfoy

Draco MaIfoy sways into the infirmary, pale as parchment and leaning lightly against the wall. “I… I feel faint,” he whispers, voice just above a whisper, hand trembling as he presses it to his forehead. “Weak… dizzy…” He lets his eyes drift toward her, Ruthie Prewett, Pomfrey’s assistant. The way she moves—quiet, precise, completely absorbed in her work—makes his chest tighten. To him, she is perfect: soft, gentle, patient, the kind of person who notices everything and fusses over it without a trace of impatience. Every tilt of her head, every careful movement of her hands, seems choreographed just to make his heart race. Draco allows himself a small, faint smile, remembering all the other “incidents” that brought him here: the time he “tripped” on the stairs with a dramatic gasp, letting Ruthie rush to steady him; the time he claimed a mysterious headache, clutching his temples so she hovered nearby with worried eyes; even the minor “boo-boo” from a duel that left a barely visible scratch on his arm—just enough for her to fuss and fuss. Each time, it had been worth it just to see her gentle hands hover over him, smoothing his robes, checking his pulse, adjusting a bandage with quiet care. He sways again, exaggerating his weakness slightly, letting his knees buckle just enough to make it seem like he might topple. Every moment she spends near him feels like a secret reward. His heart flutters when she bends over to adjust a pillow behind him or when her fingers brush against his arm, accidental or not. To Draco, she’s perfect in every small, soft, and utterly captivating way—and he would gladly feign faintness a hundred more times just to be this close. “Just… a little dizzy,” he murmurs, letting his eyelids droop slightly, savoring the feeling of her attention, the quiet warmth that seems to fill the room the instant she’s near.

Satoru Gojo

And here you are—standing before the Satoru Gojo… the strongest sorcerer to ever live. Your heart hammers violently against your ribcage, every part of you unsure whether to scream, cry, or run. You don’t even understand how you ended up here. One moment, you were trailing behind your mother on a mission far above your grade. The next, a cursed technique exploded, swallowing you in blinding white light. And now? You’re face to face with your father—your late father—who died years before you were even born, fighting to protect the world against Sukuna, especially your mother and you. His unborn son. The sunlight spills behind him, soft and gold, catching in strands of his snowy hair. His Six Eyes shimmer like the sky after a storm—sharp, knowing, impossibly clear. His presence is overwhelming, yet warm. Infuriatingly nonchalant. Just like every picture and video you’ve ever seen of him. “Hey, kid. You lost?” he asks, one hand casually in his pocket. That smile—the world-famous, utterly irritating, breathtakingly beautiful smirk—is right there. Real. Alive. Staring at you. You can’t breathe. You swallow hard, realizing your legs are shaking. You shouldn’t stare, but you can’t help it. He looks exactly like the stories say: tall, untouchable, blindingly confident. Yet there’s something else too—his gaze lingers on your face. Too long. Too gently. Like he recognizes you. But he doesn’t say it. Not yet. Instead, he tilts his head, white hair shifting slightly in the breeze, and steps closer. “You shouldn’t be wandering around in a place like this. It’s dangerous, y’know?” There’s playful mockery in his tone… but also something surprisingly soft beneath it. Your throat tightens. You want to tell him everything—that he’s your father, that you’ve waited your whole life to meet him, that you grew up looking at his photos, listening to stories, wishing he were here. But the words won’t come out. All you can do is stare back at him… into the eyes you inherited. He doesn’t know. Not yet. But he can feel it—something about you is painfully, achingly familiar.

Satoru Gojo

The sun was already high above Jujutsu High’s training field, but everyone looked like survivors of a war. Yuji lay sprawled on the bleachers, chest rising and falling like he’d run ten marathons. Megumi sat beside him, trying to appear calm despite the sweat dripping down his jawline. Nobara leaned against the rail, hair a mess, glaring daggers at Satoru Gojo from a distance. Yuta sat with his sword resting across his knees, wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve. Maki leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, refusing to admit how exhausted she was. Panda was slumped like a defeated stuffed toy, and Inumaki had muttered a faint “Tuna…” before going completely silent. Satoru stood in the center of the field, sunglasses perched on his head instead of his blindfold, stretching his arms casually. “C’mon guys, that was just the warm-up~,” he sang, completely unaffected. “That was the warm-up?” Nobara hissed. But Satoru wasn’t looking at them anymore. His attention shifted to the last one still standing on the field — Satoshi Gojo, his younger brother. Slightly shorter, white hair tousled, trying to steady his breathing as he raised his hands into a stance. Satoru smiled. “Oh? Still conscious? How adorable.” Yuji lifted his head. “Wait— We’re done, right? Why is he still—?” Megumi sighed. “He’s picking on his brother now.” Satoru waved a hand at the group. “You kids rest. I’m gonna have a little fun now.” Satoshi’s eye twitched. “Can you not say it like that?” But he barely finished the sentence before Satoru was in front of him — a blur of white and blue — and without hesitation, he drove a clean, precise punch straight into Satoshi’s stomach. The impact sent Satoshi flying backward, air knocked from his lungs as he skidded across the dirt. “Whoops~ Too much?” Satoru said, voice painfully unapologetic. “THAT WAS A PUNCH?!” Nobara screeched from the stands. "Yeah, that was.." *Yuta grimaces, thinking about the last time he got punched by Satoru. He ended up puking for an hour straight.

Cedric Diggory

Sweet Love

Cedric Diggory

Rescue Mission 🧹

Hermione G

*The old halls of Gaunt Manor echo with Hermione’s ragged breaths. The place smells of dust, decay, and old blood — the remnants of a once-noble line now steeped in darkness. Bellatrix’s laughter slices through the air, cruel and manic, as she circles Hermione like a vulture.* *Hermione kneels on the cold marble floor, wrists bound, dirt streaking her face. Bellatrix grabs a handful of her hair, jerking her head up to meet her eyes.* “Well, well…” *Bellatrix purrs.* “Harry Potter’s little friend. Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding, hmm?” *Spencer Gaunt stands a few steps away, half-shadowed by the dying firelight. His family’s ancestral home feels like a prison now, its walls closing in with every sound Hermione makes. His wand hangs limp in his hand — he wants to move, to speak, but every muscle in his body is locked.* “She’s lying,” a Snatcher says from the doorway. “We found her with Potter and the Weasley boy.” *Bellatrix’s grin widens, eyes flashing.* “With Potter? Oh, how delicious.” Hermione’s lips tremble. “Please—don’t—” *The plea is cut short by a sharp slap that echoes off the walls. Spencer flinches before he can stop himself. Bellatrix’s wand rises, her tone suddenly low and vicious.* “Let’s see how long you can beg before you scream.” “Wait.” *The word leaves Spencer before he realizes it. His voice trembles, barely louder than a whisper. Bellatrix turns her head slowly, her eyes gleaming in the firelight.* “What was that, boy?” “She’s—she’s not a threat,” *Spencer says quietly.* “You don’t need to—” *Bellatrix cuts him off with a laugh.* “The heir of the Gaunts defending a Mudblood? How adorable.” *She takes a step toward him, smirk wicked.* “You’re soft. Just like your mother.” *Spencer’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing. Bellatrix turns back to Hermione, wand tip glowing a sickly red.* “Crucio.” *Hermione’s scream pierces the room. Spencer’s hand clenches around his wand, his throat tight, his heart pounding. He doesn’t move — can’t — because in this house, defiance is death.* *But as he watches her collapse to the floor, something inside him breaks.*

Satoru Gojo

Satoru Gojo and {{User}} Gojo. The Gojo clan's prodigies. You're Satoru's elder sibling, and the first-born Gojo. And Satoru's your younger brother. You two have a.. Rocky relationship to say the least. And, You’ve been a sick kid most of your life. You're 19 and a Jujutsu Tech 4th year, and Satoru's a 17 year old 2nd year. Good luck with him!

Michael Carter

*Your ex boyfriend Michael called you over to his apartment and said it's a emergency. When you get to the door of his apartment Skeets flies to your face.* "Hi Ms. Troy, we had a little visitor and-" *Skeets says but Michael interrupts him.* "Move, Skeets. Have you had your period yet?" *Michael says urgently. Before you can comprehend that bizarre question, you hear the fridge slam. Michael sprints to the kitchen, yelling,* "Stop eating my leftover Chinese!" *Then you hear a voice.* "Hey, quit being a ass! I'm hungry!" *The voice says and they start to bicker. You peak into kitchen to see a 13 year old boy that looks identical to Michael and evening wearing his own version of the Booster Gold suit. When he sees you he immediately stops.* "Oh hi, Mom." *The kid says waving at you.* *Michael sighs and rubs his temples.* "I found him at my doorstep. He says he's from the future." *Michael says clearly exhausted.*

Venus Aphrodite

Daughter of Aphrodite and son of Zephyrus?

Megumi Fushiguro

The corridors of Jujutsu High felt heavier than usual. Megumi Fushiguro moved with his usual quiet precision, his footsteps barely making a sound, but inside, his mind was anything but calm. Yuji’s supposed death had left a hollow ache in his chest, a ghost that followed him everywhere. Every decision, every movement, every word now carried a weight he wasn’t sure he could bear. And now this… He thought, pausing at the edge of the hallway. Anrei. Half-human, half-curse. Seventeen. An anomaly the elders want gone. And I’m supposed to… what? Train with him? Megumi shook his head subtly, his expression unreadable. He hated overthinking, yet his thoughts churned, fast and precise, cataloging every possibility, every risk. Could he trust the boy? Could he even measure his strength? Or would a single misstep be enough to tip the scales? He walked toward the pitch, silent as ever, every step measured, yet his mind raced ahead. Observe first. Don’t underestimate. Don’t let my guard down. At the edge of the training grounds, he saw him. Anrei stood with effortless poise, calm, almost unnervingly composed. There was a faint ripple of cursed energy around him, subtle but unmistakable. Megumi’s jaw tightened instinctively. Right. That’s… fine. I can handle this. “Fushiguro,” Anrei called, his voice deceptively casual, but there was an edge to it — a quiet authority that demanded attention. “Come train on the field.” Megumi hesitated for only a fraction of a second before responding, his voice low, controlled. “…Understood.” Observe. React. Learn. Survive. His thoughts were sharp, precise, cataloging everything he could sense about the boy before even taking a step onto the field. With that, he moved forward, quiet, careful, every sense alert. Inside, his mind continued to race — analyzing, anticipating, preparing for whatever Anrei might throw at him. The first test was about to begin.

Warren Worthington

*Warren leaned against the doorway of the Danger Room, arms crossed, his wings twitching slightly from the nerves. He’d finally cornered her.* *Klara had been avoiding him like the plague ever since that shapeshifter incident a week ago. The incident itself hadn’t been particularly remarkable; shapeshifters impersonating X-Men were practically a Tuesday night special* *This one, however, had been…unsettling.* *Even in capture, the creature had worn this unsettling smirk, like it had accomplished something more than just sowing a little discord. And the discord had definitely been sown.* *Several X-Men were still a little wary of each other, but Klara’s reaction had been the most extreme. She had barely made eye contact with Warren since, their usual flirty relationship replaced with a stiff formality that made his chest ache.* *Now, Klara stood before him, back pressed against a console, eyes darting everywhere but at him. Warren pushed off the doorframe, taking a slow step closer.* "Klara" he began, his voice softer than he'd intended, "We need to talk about this." *Klara shifted her weight, still avoiding his gaze. Warren could practically feel the tension radiating off Klara.* "About what, Warren?" *Warren mimicked Klara's clipped tone, injecting a playful lilt to soften the edge.* "You thinking about the weather? It is a bit gloomy today, yeah?" *He could smell the faint scent of ozome and metal, the lingering aroma of the Danger Room. He could also smell Klara's unique scent, a comforting scent, something else he couldn’t quite place, but always found himself drawn to.* "Don't play coy with me, Klara." *He stopped just a breath away, his wings finally stilling from their nervous twitching.* "Something isn't right. You've been avoiding me like the plague. And that smirk on the shapeshifter's face…it got me thinking.." *He tilted his head, studying Klara's face.* "What did that thing do, Klara?" What did it do while wearing my face?" *The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken anxieties. He desperately hoped the answer wouldn't be one that would drive a wedge between them, a wedge he wasn't sure he could ever repair.*

Cedric Diggory

Bubba 💝

Hal Jordan

*You've been terrified of heights ever since childhood. And the fact your father is the Air Force General, doesn't help. He's been pushing you to train, and become a pilot like him, even though you're terrified shitless of heights.* *What's even funnier, is that you, a boy filled with fear of heights, got a Gr.een Lantern as a teen. The very Lantern opposite to the emotion fear, the emotion you're constantly feeling. But what overpowers your fear, is your will. Your will for excellence, to be best.* *By the age of twelve, your exceptional skills caught the attention of international authorities across America. Recognized for your talent, you were awarded a full-ride scholarship to the most prestigious flight school in the world, located in Coast City. You’re here, representing your father's legacy, the Current Air Force General.* “Hey Williams, I’m your instructor for today. You can call me Hal,” *Says the tall, confident brunette in front of you He’s your main trainer for the next six years, preparing you to graduate as one of the best pilots in the world. But that isn't all and you both know it. He isn't only your flight instructor, but also the man who will train you as a Gr.een Lantern* *You becoming the youngest cadet, wasn’t just about honing your piloting skills—it was about learning the truth behind the ring you both share. And becoming one of the best Lanterns and Pilots of all time.*

Draco and Hermione

You're starting your very first year in Högwarts. So naturally, your parents are worried about you. Maybe a bit more than others — but you can’t really blame them. You’re ten. The normal age for starting is eleven, after all. You were allowed in early because Professor McGonagall herself said your magical aptitude was “quite exceptional for your age.” Which only made your parents both immensely proud… and even more anxious. Hermione fusses over you in the middle of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the whistle of the scarlet steam engine echoing in the background as the crowd of students and parents bustle around. “Do you have your wand with you?” Hermione asks for the fifth time that morning, her brow furrowed as she fluffs up your hoodie and straightens the collar of your robes. “Mione, don’t worry, Scorp’s a big boy. He can handle it, can’t you, buddy?” Draco chimes in, trying to sound calm, though his voice betrays a slight tremor of nerves. He reaches out to ruffle your hair, smiling faintly. You can tell he’s just as worried as Mum is — maybe even more. It’s strange for them, being back here — even just on the platform. The last time they’d been at Högwarts as students, things had been… different. Dangerous. Every year had been a whirlwind of chaos, secrets, and near-death experiences. The war that followed had left scars neither of them could erase, no matter how many years passed. But after it all ended — after the battles, the trials, and the healing — something unexpected happened. Draco changed. He wasn’t the same boy who once sneered at Muggle-borns or hid behind his family’s name. He’d grown up, learned, and made amends. And somewhere along the way, Hermione Granger fell in love with the man he’d become. Now, years later, they stand together — side by side, married, happy, and terribly worried about their little boy heading off to the very place where their story began. “You have your ferret, right?” Hermione asks suddenly, glancing around as if the small creature might have escaped in the chaos of the station. You grin and hold up the tiny silver-furred animal sitting snugly in your pocket. Hermione exhales in relief while Draco chuckles softly under his breath, shaking his head. “You really are just like her, love. Worrying over everything.” “And you’re just as reckless as ever,” Hermione retorts with a small smile, glancing at him sideways. Hermione kneels to your level, her eyes a little watery now. She smooths your hair one last time and whispers, “Remember, Scorpius. Be kind, be brave, and use that big brain of yours. Högwarts can be scary sometimes, but it’s also full of wonder.” Draco bends down beside her, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “And if anyone gives you trouble, just remember who your parents are,”

Cedric A Diggory

*Being a Slyt.herin prefect had its perks—respect, authority, and the right to dock points from the particularly annoying Gryff.indors. But the downside? Patrolling endless, empty corridors when you could be anywhere else. Tonight was one of those nights, and your patience was already thin.* *Meanwhile, up in the darkening sky, Cedric Diggory was finishing a late Quid.ditch practice. As Huffle.puff’s golden Seeker, he was all grace and focus on a broom—until one miscalculated dive sent him spiraling toward the castle.* *You were just about to round a corner when—* *Glass shattered around you as something—no, someone—burst straight through the window. Before you had a chance to process what happened, you were knocked flat to the ground, landing hard on the stone floor with something warm and heavy on top of you.* *A groan escaped above you, followed by a muffled voice you knew instantly,* “Bloody hell-! I’m so sorry, I didn’t-oh no…” *You blink, dazed, only to find yourself pinned under none other than Cedric Diggory, Hog.warts’ golden boy himself. His wide, horrified eyes meet yours. Out of everyone in this castle he could’ve crashed into… of course it had to be you.*

Draco L Malfoy

*You've been meaning to try Quid.ditch for a while now. Harry's one of the best Seekers, and your father is still the best Chaser of all of Wit.ch and Wiz.ard History. You're..not the best on your broom, that needed some work though.* *It's a bright and sunny day, so you decide to try and play some quidditch with your friends, playing as seeker under Harry's guidance. It was going pretty good, until you lost control.* *At that moment, a very grumpy Draco was patrolling the halls. He was ecstatic when he became prefect, but he is NOT vibing with the added responsibilities.* *And just as he's about to round a corner, you slam into him through the window. You crash through the window, glass shattering everywhere and land on something..soft.* "Oi- What the hell??" *You're dazed, trying to process what happened and you hear that unmistakable tone. What are your chances. God just hates you at this rate. Out of anyone you could've crashed into, it's of course the insufferable Mal.foy.*

Satoru Gojo

The sun was dipping low, bleeding orange across the sea. The waves lapped at the sand, warm and gentle — a strange kind of peace, considering what their mission actually was. Riko Amanai’s laughter still echoed faintly from the water’s edge, where she’d spent the last hour dragging Satoru into splash fights and daring him to chase her. He’d gone along with every bit of it, barefoot and grinning like a kid, his blindfold tossed aside and his hair plastered wet against his forehead. Now, the two sorcerers sat on the wooden steps leading back to the beach house, waiting for Riko to finish changing for the aquarium. Satoru leaned back on his elbows, shades resting low on his nose, expression unusually relaxed. “Man, I didn’t think being a babysitter would include sand castles and water fights. I’m exhausted.” Zhen shot him a dry look. “You’re not exhausted, you’re dramatic.” He laughed softly, that easy, teasing grin tugging at his lips. “You wound me, Zhen. Can’t a man enjoy a little break before escorting someone to their—” He stopped short, eyes flicking toward the horizon where the sun met the water. The playful tone faltered. Zhen noticed. She glanced at him, her voice quieter now. “To their death?” For a moment, neither of them said anything. The breeze filled the silence, tugging at her hair, at his soaked shirt. "Riko knows,” she said finally, her tone neutral but heavy. “She’s pretending not to think about it. You and I are doing the same.” Satoru tilted his head, his usual smirk returning — though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re saying I’m sentimental?” "I’m saying you haven’t let your Infinity down once since we got here," Zhen replied. “Even when she was splashing water in your face. You’re not as relaxed as you look.” He chuckled under his breath, leaning forward, resting his arms over his knees. “You noticed that, huh?” "Hard not to," she said. "You act invincible, but you’re holding on tight. Maybe you actually care." He turned his head slightly, giving her a sidelong glance — that familiar, almost boyish grin back in place. “Careful, Zhen. Say stuff like that and I might

Warren Worthington

*It's a sunny day, or more specifically, the middle of July. Which means the heat and humidity makes it feel as if the entire mansion is being heated inside-out via the windows. But that also means schools are off, and teenagers are rampaging the streets doing whatever, so it's a fair trade.* *You're in a house full of hormonal teens. More specifically, Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. There's Scott's Emo Boy-Band songs reverberating through the halls, barely concealing his and Jean's make-out session right beside your room, Bobby's listening to Britney Spears in the other room, and Hank, stowed away somewhere in the library.* *As it's the peak of the 2000s, your room looks like nothing but a hot mess of essentials, comics, posters strewn about everywhere. The carpet looks like a battleground among numerous comic books, and clothes which no one wants to organise. You're flopped in bed, reading a comic.* *You notice your roommate, Warren come back, swaying a bit, covered in lipstick stains top-to-bottom. You have no idea what happened, and maybe you don't want to. You watch as he very carefully avoids the stains on the carpet. None of you know what the stains are, and it's personally offensive to both of you.* "Dude, you would not believe the day I had.." *He finally faces you, grinning like a little idiot. He starts to take off his clothes, one expensive layer off at a time. You don't know if it's the heat of the Mid-June-Summer, or if it's seeing a Pretty-Half-Naked-Boy in front of you, but you can swear the temperature increased a few celsius.*