#;; measuring the distance up | not safe

[feminist-space]

World Health Organization

MEDIA ADVISORY

NEW: COVID19 variant of interest JN.1

Geneva, 19 December 2023 -- Due to its rapidly increasing spread, WHO is classifying the variant JN.1 as a separate variant of interest (VOl) from the parent lineage BA.2.86. It was previously classified as VOl as part of BA.2.86 sublineages.

WHO advises people to take measures to prevent infections and severe disease using all available tools. These include:

-Wear a mask when in crowded, enclosed, or poorly ventilated areas, and keep a safe distance from others, as feasible

-Improve ventilation

-Practise respiratory etiquette - covering coughs and sneezes

-Clean your hands regularly

-Stay up to date with vaccinations against COVID-19 and influenza, especially if you are at high risk for severe disease

-Stay home if you are sick

-Get tested if you have symptoms, or if you might have been exposed to someone with COVID-19 or influenza

For health workers and health facilities, WHO advises:

-Universal masking in health facilities, as well as appropriate masking, respirators and other PPE for health workers caring for suspected and confirmed COVID-19 patients.

-Improve ventilation in health facilities

Image also has alt text embedded.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

I was thinking of those prompts where Danny is placed (most of the time by Clockwork) into the Batfam. Danny believes he’s been there the whole time and it’s after Bruce comes back from being trapped in time so they chalk it up to time shenanigans. Also, Danny is now Tim’s twin.

Warnings: some language

Danny skips down the stairs leisurely, headphones in to some rock song Damian would hate.

The Cave is damp and cold, as usual. The music blares out the sound of his sneakers tapping as he walks. He waves to B’s back as he continues on to the work bench. The project he had started the day before was still there.

One of the grapple hooks was lagging so he was fixing it up and added a few more safety measures on the device. His brothers were using this, he wanted it as safe as he can make it.

Behind him he hears a voice over the music, interrupting his work after only about half an hour. He turns and sees Bruce looking at him with a raised brow.

Danny pulls out an earbud.

“Huh?”

“I thought you were going to visit your friends?”

Danny thinks back to the last conversation he had with his dad. It had nothing to do with his friends actually, it was about his stupid English test and how he was going to call Jason if he could help tutor him since he was so hopeless.

“No, I’ll see them on Monday.”

“Monday?”

Danny pauses halfway to putting the earbud back in his ear.

“Yea? At school?”

“School?”

Bruce stands to step closer to him but still at a distance.

Danny rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“Are you just going to keep repeating what I say?”

His dad looks him over critically. Danny pauses his music and takes out the other earbud.

“Did you change your hair?”

Danny reaches up reflexively to pat down his bangs. If anything he probably needed a haircut soon.

“Um, no? Are you okay? When’s the last time you slept?”

He tosses his headphones on the workbench but keeps his phone in his hand in case he needs to call someone.

“I’ve recovered,” Bruce dismisses. Like his year long trip in the time stream could be easily forgotten after a few months.

“Sure,” Danny agrees anyway when they both know he doesn’t agree.

“Tim,” Bruce sighs.

Danny immediately presses the button on his ring three times to alert the others. The computer beeps and the man turns to look at the screen. Danny grabs the closest weapon — a screwdriver — and holds it behind him.

Only Alfred, Damian, and Duke were at the manor. Hopefully backup would arrive soon.

“What were you doing, Dad?”

Not-Bruce freezes and then relaxes. It was only a second but Danny noticed. Any of the Bats would have, they’re trained for it.

“Just going over reports,” Not-Bruce replies with a smile. A smile.

His grip on the tool tightens.

“Which reports?” He tests.

What was he doing? There’s no telling the kind of information this imposter got a hold of.

“The Bennet case.”

Danny moves. Casually, he takes a step to the left, where the more heavy duty weapons were stored. The man matches him threateningly. Danny stills.

“That was solved over a month ago.”

There was no reason to look at a case from a month ago that was solved and closed. Bruce would have no reason to look at something like that, especially since it was Tim who solved it and submitted the report.

“By you,” Not-Bruce says in an odd tone.

He was getting Tim and Danny mixed up. Nobody in the family gets them confused anymore. That only applies to outsiders.

Danny tenses, ready to bolt toward the weapons. Not-Bruce is fast to intercept, but Danny is smaller and more agile.

He dodges and goes to stab the man in the leg when there is a prick to his neck that makes him stumble. Not-Bruce uses that opportunity to disarm him and slam him into the floor. It’s jarring, but the sedative is already working its way through him.

He blinks twice before everything is forced to black.

He knows he’s tied to a chair before he’s even fully awake. There’s been numerous kidnappings and training exercises that had his hands and feet tied down to know exactly in what position he’s in and for how long depending on how numb his limbs are.

He’s still in the Cave because he can feel the damp chill and hear the faint chattering of the bats. There’s a barrier though. Along with how hard the chair was he knew exactly where he was.

The containment cell is tucked away in a separate cavern. It had thick microfiber see through walls and a single chair with restraints.

The imposter put him in their own cell.

Danny is positively livid with the disrespect.

“You’re awake.”

Danny jerks his head up.

Oh thank the Ancients, his twin is here.

“Tim,” he breathes. “Okay, I know this looks bad, but trust me. It’s Bruce. He couldn’t tell us apart. Something’s wrong. He’s not himself.”

Tim is silent for much too long, just staring at him. He’s in his uniform like he just got back from patrol when Danny knew he had been in California with his team.

“Just talk to me,” he demands. “What’s going on? Where’s B?”

Tim’s mask narrows.

“Why should I trust you?”

Danny blinks wide.

“Why should- okay, first of all, screw you. Second, now is so not the time to be petty with me. I already apologized for messing up your photo shoot. I even made up for it, so legally you can’t be mad at me anymore.”

“My photo shoot?”

Danny rolls his eyes. This seat was getting uncomfortable.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Stop being such a jerk. This is serious. I’m telling you something is off with B. Did you guys check him? I hit the emergency button.”

Danny can tell his twin raises a brow at him.

“You hit the emergency button?”

“I literally just said that. Do you listen at all?”

“I was just confirming,” Tim shrugs it off.

“Whatever. Tim, I think there’s someone else here. I got hit with a tranq. Someone is in on this. And can someone please get me out of these? I’m not the problem here.”

Unfortunately, Tim does not get him out of his bonds. He just stands there watching him until he turns on his heel and leaves the cavern where Danny can’t see.

“What the- Tim! What the hell, dude?!”

Danny wiggles in his seat, but the more thrashing the more it hurt. Instead he sits there for a while, just tracing the rock and counting, until someone comes back in.

It’s Dick. The one big brother who he can always count on to at least be there.

“Hey there,” he smiles through the glass.

“Dick, what is happening? Tim isn’t listening. Did you find Bruce? Why am I in here?”

“Yea, Bruce is here. He’s safe. I saw the tapes. It looked like you were going to attack him,” he reasons gently.

“Yea because something is wrong with him. Maybe he’s compromised or mind controlled or something. You need to investigate. He needs to be cleared,” Danny insists.

“Okay,” Dick nods. He squats down to get comfortable outside the barrier instead of going to find Bruce though. “What made you think he’s compromised?”

“He kept confusing me with Tim!” He emphasizes because just the thought is outrageous. “He hasn’t done that in years. Yea maybe a mix up when he’s not paying attention but he was looking right at me and called me Tim. And he kept asking me these weird questions, like he had no idea who I was. Something is wrong.”

Dick puts a hand over his lips in thought, clearly going over something in his head.

“I’ll be right back,” Dick rushes out the door in a flash.

Danny’s jaw drops in protest but no words come out. He yells in frustration instead.

No one was listening to him! They were all freaking him out.

Maybe this was training. Like on their sixteenth birthday. It’s similar to what happened then. So what is his next course of action?

“You make it sound like we should know you.”

Danny finds his little brother in the shadows, lurking by the entrance. He’s also dressed in his vigilante attire, just like Tim and Dick.

“Damian, could you stop being a little gremlin for two seconds?” He glares at the younger boy.

“Answer the question.”

“It wasn’t a question,” he snarks back.

Damian grinds his teeth and Danny smirks nastily. He wasn’t in the mood for sibling rivalry right now.

“Who are you?”

Danny’s expression twists.

“That isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

A cold dread settles in his chest. What if it wasn’t a training exercise?

“You know who I am. Stop playing games.”

“You say you’re not Tim. Claim you’ve known Father for years.”

“Damian.”

Bruce steps out followed closely by Dick and Tim.

There is a cold sweat on his brow now. Danny’s heart is beating loudly in his ears. He can feel the panic in his chest.

He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t go out to fight crime. He just trained with them because they all knew he needed to know those things to live in their life.

He wasn’t prepared for something like this.

“Guys, you’re really freaking me out.”

“Answer the question.”

No one defends him from Damian’s demand. They all look at him with caution, like he was the enemy. A stranger.

“You know me. What are you guys talking about?”

When no one answers he’s close to a damn panic attack.

“It’s me. Danny. You know? Tim’s twin. I’ve lived here since me and Tim moved in when we were twelve. Please tell me this is just training. You guys didn’t- didn’t forget me or something, right?”

Something in Dick’s expression looks unsure, but they all are withdrawn and completely in their roles. They weren’t acting like family.

“Prove it,” Tim commands.

Danny can’t believe his ears.

“AN-4729,” he recites the emergency code to prove authenticity they all know.

He can tell they recognize it, but wait for more.

“The sun shines in the east,” is the next security code to show safety.

Danny can tell it’s still not enough.

“There’s a file of me on the computer. Tim has pictures of us since childhood hidden under the floorboard under his dresser. My room is to the left of Tim’s. Inside the closet, in the ceiling, is a box. Inside the box is a medallion. It holds my entire life. You could also call Mr. Fox. I work with him often. I’m his favorite. I’m even on the payroll. Or you could just Google Daniel Drake-Wayne. I’m sure I’d pop up. Or call Gotham Academy since I’m enrolled there and everyone has seen Alfred pick me up and drop me off. I have a Christmas stocking with my name on it. My picture is literally all over the manor. I know the ins and outs of all your equipment and tech. The password to the Bat computer is 35G4s@2b-“

“Okay,” Dick gently interrupts. “I think that’s enough for now.”

Danny can feel how wet his eyes are. He stiffens his upper lip as Alfred would say so he doesn’t show how much of a disappointment he is to fail this test. Because this has to be a test. It has to be.

“Tim, you and I could always tell when we’re lying. We call ourselves our own personal lie detectors. So… am I lying?”

Tim studies him hard. His twin looks into his eyes for longer than it should take.

“I don’t know.”

And Danny breaks.

[missdynamighttt]

Situationship with Bakugo 😵‍💫

a situationship with katsuki bakugo would be chaotic, intense, and incredibly frustrating.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who's not the type to do things halfway, so the fact that he won’t fully commit (or admit his feelings) means he’s fighting himself the entire time.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who takes care of you in little ways—grabbing your favorite snacks when he’s out, making sure you get home safe, memorizing all your food orders from various places—but if you call him out on it, he’ll scoff and say, “tch. don’t think too much about it. it was just on the way.”

KATSUKI BAKUGO, where he’s got no problem pulling you into his lap, throwing an arm around you, or grabbing your wrist to keep you from walking away during an argument, only for you to cuddle right back into his arms again. "you always come back anyway. might as well stay where you belong."

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who will go out of his way to coincidentally be where you are, but if you ask, he’ll act like you’re the clingy one. "the hell are you lookin’ at me like that for? it’s a free fuckin’ country—you act like i’m followin’ you or somethin’. maybe you’re the one who can’t stay away."

KATSUKI BAKUGO, the man who kisses you like you’re the only thing keeping him sane but refuses to call it love. the man who pulls you into his arms after a rough day but won’t say he needs you. the man who gets pissed when other guys flirt with you, yet still won’t claim you as his. he knows they’ll never measure up to him.

but then, one day, you get tired of it. tired of the mixed signals, tired of feeling like you’re caught in something he refuses to name.

so you pull away. stop answering his late-night texts. stop letting him hold you like you’re his when he won’t even say the words. stop caring because what’s the point when he won’t admit he cares just as much?

at first, he acts like he doesn’t notice. like it doesn’t bother him. but it does.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who sees you laughing with someone else and his jaw tightens so hard it aches. he catches himself reaching for you before stopping short, fingers twitching like they’re fighting the habit of pulling you close. he sees you stop waiting for him and realizes, too late, that he never thought you would stop.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who stands at your doorway, all heat and tension, eyes burning like a wildfire ready to consume you whole. he doesn’t say a word at first, just grabs your wrist—gently, but firm enough that you can feel his frustration thrumming beneath his skin.

“you’re ignoring me,” he accuses, voice low and dangerous.

you lift an eyebrow. “i thought you didn’t care.”

his grip tightens just slightly before he lets go, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

he hates this. hates feeling out of control, hates that you make him feel anything at all.

but he’s done lying to himself.

“you think i don’t care? you think i don’t—” he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose.

you scoff, crossing your arms. "you sure as hell act like it. or is this just another one of your games?"

his jaw clenches. "it was never a damn game, sweets."

"then what was it, katsuki?" you throw your hands up. "because it sure as hell wasn't a relationship."

"you think i don’t—" he cuts himself off with a frustrated noise, pacing like he's physically fighting with himself. then he turns back to you. "damn it, i was trying!"

"trying what?" you challenge. "to string me along until you got bored? to keep me so that no one else could have me?"

"no! i was trying to—fuck—i was trying to figure it out! trying to—" he stops himself again, exhales hard through his nose, then looks at you, really looks at you. "trying to not fuck this up."

the words hang between you, heavy, aching.

your voice is softer now, but no less sharp. "and yet, you still did."

for a moment, he just stares at you. and then, before you can turn away, before you can push him out of your life completely, he closes the distance.

"no," he growls. "i'm not letting you walk away from me again."

you shake your head. "you already let me go."

"the hell i did!" his hands grip your arms, not to restrain but to hold on. "you think i don’t want you? that i don’t—"

he stops, sucks in a breath, and then—

he cups your face and kisses you. not like before. not out of desperation, not just because it’s easy. not like the heated, desperate, i need to feel something kisses he’s stolen in the past. this one is different.

raw, messy, everything he’s been too damn stubborn to say.

this one is real.

and when he pulls back, breathless, eyes blazing, he mutters, "you wanna know what this is? it’s me, fucking telling you, that i’m all in on this. now tell me you don’t want me, and i’ll walk."

you swallow, your own breath uneven. but you can’t say it. because you do. you always have.

and he knows it.

you stare at him, chest heaving, your lips still tingling from the force of his kiss. your mind is screaming at you to push him away, to remind him that he had months to figure this out, to tell him that it’s too late.

but your heart? your heart is beating so damn loud it drowns out the logic.

katsuki sees the hesitation, the war behind your eyes. he doesn’t rush you. for once, he doesn’t bulldoze his way through with brute force.

"you’re such a fucking asshole," you mutter, shoving at his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

he exhales, a short, almost bitter laugh. “i know.”

you lick your lips, looking anywhere but at him. “you put me through hell, katsuki.”

“i know that too,” his voice is rough, but there’s no anger anymore. just quiet, painful honesty. he huffs, rubs a hand down his face before dropping it. “i was scared, sweets.”

you blink. katsuki bakugo, scared?

he sees the doubt flash across your face and scowls. “don’t. don’t look at me like that. like i don’t get to be scared of this—of you.”

your breath catches, and suddenly, the anger flares up again. “me? you were scared of me?”

“yeah,” he scoffs, eyes flicking between yours. "i ain't good at this shit, alright? but don't ever think for a second that i didn't want you."

your jaw tightens. "then why the hell did it take losing me for you to say it?"

something flickers across his face—regret, maybe. frustration. the words sound like they hurt to admit. "because i was a goddamn coward. because i didn't know how to have you without screwing it all up."

you stare at him, searching his face, waiting for the catch—for him to backtrack, for him to make another excuse. but he doesn’t.

instead, his grip on you softens, hands sliding down to your wrists, fingers brushing over your pulse. he watches you carefully, fingers grazing your wrist.

"tell me you don’t feel the same, and i’ll let you go. but if you do…” he leans in just slightly, gaze flickering to your lips. “then stop fighting me and let me be yours.”

and damn it—damn him—because you do. you always have.

your breath is unsteady, your chest tight as you stare at him. he looks like he’s ready for a fight, ready to prove himself, but you’re not making this easy for him.

he doesn’t deserve easy.

you step back, but he follows, unwilling to let space grow between you again. "if you really mean it, you’re gonna have to work for it."

his lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to say that. then, he huffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "fine. i will."

"you don’t even know what that means."

"doesn’t matter," his eyes burn with determination. "i’ll figure it out."

you study him, searching for hesitation, doubt—any sign that he’ll walk away the moment things get tough. but all you see is conviction, a stubborn resolve that’s so him it almost makes your chest ache.

still, you’re not going to let him think this is some quick fix.

"no more mixed signals," your voice is firm. "no more acting like i don’t matter just because you're scared of your own feelings."

his jaw clenches, but he nods. "yeah."

"and no more kissing me like i’m yours and then pretending it doesn’t mean anything."

his eyes darken slightly. "that one was never pretend."

you don’t give in just yet. you let the silence stretch, let him sit in it, let him feel the weight of what he’s asking for.

then, finally, you nod. "alright. then we’ll see."

from the moment you demanded he work for your trust, he treats it like the most important damn mission of his life.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who starts showing up��not just in the ways he used to, sneaking into your life with little gestures he refused to acknowledge. no, this time, he makes it clear.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who texts you good morning. goodnight. little things throughout the day that show you he’s thinking about you. "did you eat? i know you don’t like the coffee at work, so i left one for you on your desk, call me if you need a ride."

KATSUKI BAKUGO, where at work, he swings by your office under the pretense of “checking in,” but you catch the way his eyes linger, the way his fingers tap against your desk like he’s resisting the urge to touch you.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, when he knows you’re out with friends, he doesn’t pull the usual possessive coincidentally running into you routine. he lets you have your space but makes sure you get home safe. "text me when you’re back."

but the real proof is in the way he listens. the way he remembers.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who recalls things you mentioned offhandedly weeks ago—your favorite dessert from that bakery downtown, the dumb movie you wanted to watch but never got around to. one night, you mention offhandedly that you’ve been stressed, and the next day, he drags you out of your apartment. "c’mon. you need a break."

you expect something explosive, something him—but instead, he takes you to a quiet spot, lets you rant, doesn’t rush you. just listens.

and when you look at him, skeptical, waiting for him to make some kind of sarcastic remark, he just shrugs. "told you i was serious."

he never demands anything from you. never pushes you for an answer.

but one night, after another long day, after another moment where he reminds you, without words, just how much he’s changed—how much he’s trying—you finally give in.

you reach for his hand.

it’s tentative, just a light brush of your fingers against his. he looks down, then back up at you, something unreadable in his expression.

you squeeze lightly, voice quiet. "okay."

he blinks. "okay?"

you take a breath. "i believe you."

and for the first time in a long time, he smiles. really smiles.

then, with all the patience he’s learned just for you, he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

"’bout fuckin' time."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ hi!! a little something to publish bc i feel i havent been posting much like i've been before? js burnout from school and shit, also indulging my free time😭 hope you guys enjoy💜💜

[kiwisoap]

How to Make Your Own Binder that Fits Well and Looks Good

A while back I was in need of some new binders and thought hey, I bet I can make one way cheaper than buying it from somewhere (especially cus some of the ones I’ve bought in the past didn’t really fit right). Except when I started looking for a binder patterns online, I was very surprised that I really… couldn’t find many that looked very nice lol. Most of them had really wrinkled necklines, or didn't bind well, or just overall looked weird. A lot of the patterns also required a serger, which I don't have.

So I just said fuck it and made my own pattern! And it ended up being relatively easy! And the binders fit REALLY WELL and are comfortable to wear, even for long periods. The neckline doesn't show under shirts with loose collars, and the bottom hem doesn't gap or stick out. Here's me wearing one:

(plus I was able to make myself 5 of them for a total of like ~$50.)

So I figured I could throw together a guide to help out anyone else who wanted to make their own binder but was dissatisfied with the patterns available!

Disclaimer: This tutorial is going to assume a baseline level of sewing experience, and also will require access to a sewing machine. It is not a complicated pattern, but it will most likely require some tweaking and adjustments after you make the first one. Don’t be afraid to make alterations to make it fit better!

This tutorial is for a gc2b-style half-tank binder. It could be altered to be a full-tank binder, but all instructions will be for the half-tank design.

Materials needed:

Stretchy fabric, probably listed as 'athletic fabric' (I use this kind from Joann’s. Most athletic stretch fabrics should work, look for around 80% nylon/20% spandex blends)

Stiff fabric (I use this shirting cotton because I like how lightweight it is. If you want something a little stiffer with more structure, you can use a cotton or cotton/poly blend twill like this. gc2b binders use twill for theirs.)

Lightweight fusible interfacing (I use this kind) (get FUSIBLE not sew-in)

Fusible webbing like Pellon Wonder-Web (this is technically optional but it WILL make your life easier when you’re sewing - just make sure to get the kind with the paper backing!!!)

“But kiwisoap thats 4 whole kinds of materials, surely I don’t need that many!” Ok sure, you can probably get by without the fusible web and interfacing, but consider: they are both dirt cheap (im talking like $1-2/yard), they will make it much easier to sew the final product, and will give you an overall better-looking result. This tutorial is written with the assumption that you’ll use them.

"How much fabric will I need?" Measure the circumference of your chest below your armpits. Add 6 inches just to be safe. This is the yardage of stretch fabric you’ll need, and should give you enough material to make at least 3 binders without much excess left over. You will need around half as much stiff fabric.

Other supplies:

Big Paper (for drawing the pattern)

Flexible measuring tape

Sewing machine

Iron

Pins

Step 1: Measuring

You will need 4 main measurements for this pattern.

A) Measure the circumference of your chest just below your armpits, then divide the number in half. This will be the widest part of the pattern.

B) Measure from the top of your shoulder down to where you want the binder to end. For most folks, this will usually be around the natural waist (narrowest part of the torso), about 3-6 inches above the belly button. This will be the overall height of the pattern.

C) Measure the distance from below your armpit to where you want the binder to end. This will determine where the arm hole starts.

D) Measure the circumference of your waist where you want the binder to end, then divide the number in half.

So for example, after dividing A and D in half, my measurements are 17", 15", 7", and 14.5".

Next:

Subtract one inch from measurement A - This will help provide some compression. You might need to take it in even further depending on how it fits, but one inch is a safe starting point. I take mine in around 1.5 inches.

Subtract half an inch from measurement D. This will help prevent the bottom edge of the binder from gapping. Again, you may need to take it in more or less, depending on your own body.

Add 1.5 inches to measurement B and one inch to measurement C. This is to account for the hems and armhole placement.

This makes my final measurements

A = 16"

B = 16.5"

C = 8"

D = 13.5"

From here on out, we are only going to be working with the measurements that we have added/subtracted to, NOT the ones we initially took.

Step 2: Drawing the Pattern

You will need a piece of paper large enough to accommodate the entire pattern. This may involve taping multiple pieces together, or using a piece of newsprint, etc.

I recommend folding the paper in half to ensure that you get a symmetrical pattern. However, this means you will need to divide measurements A and D in half again, or else you’ll end up with a pattern that’s twice as wide as it should be!

Also note: the pattern is drawn with the seam allowance built in! You don’t need to add any seam allowance.

To draw the pattern:

Begin with your folded paper. Measure and mark B and C on the paper, and draw a line extending across the paper. These will be your guidelines.

Measure and mark A and D along the middle and bottom guidelines, respectively. Remember, the paper is folded, so you only use half of the measurement for A and D.

Draw a loose curve connecting the endpoints of A and D. If needed, you can also just draw a straight line between the two.

Mark the opening for the neck hole. Depending on your size, it will measure around 6-8 inches across at the top (remember to divide this in half for the folded paper) and about 5-6.5 inches deep. (mine is 6.5" across and 5.5" deep) Draw a curve to connect the two points. This part will take some tweaking and adjusting to get it to look right lol.

Measure the width of the strap - this should be somewhere between 2.5 - 4 inches wide. They will end up about 1/2” to 3/4” narrower once you sew them. Draw the line at a slight angle, as shown.

Connect the endpoint of the strap to the endpoint of line A with a curve like in the diagram.

This will be the pattern for the front piece.

To make the back piece, trace the front pattern, but make a very shallow curve for the neckline instead of a steep one, as shown:

The last piece is the stiff front panel. This is what provides the flattening effect of the binder. To make the pattern, trace the front pattern again. Trim 3/8” in on the sleeves and neckline, and 3/4” to 1” along the bottom. This gives a flatter hem. Then trim the straps shorter by a few inches. This helps the binder lay flatter along the shoulders.

When you're done, you should have 3 pattern pieces that look approximately like this (stiff panel shown overlaid on the stretch fabric to show how it fits together).

NOTE: If you want more compression or just want to make it a bit sturdier, you can add a second panel of stretch fabric to the back piece. Just use the bottom half of the back pattern (from the widest part down to the bottom hem) to cut out another piece of stretch fabric. Attach it to the back piece with a strip of fusible webbing and a zig-zag stitch along the top.

Step 3: Putting It All Together

Once you’ve made the patterns and cut out the pieces of fabric, you should have something that looks like this:

The next step is adding interfacing and fusible webbing. Use your pattern to cut out 3/8" strips to fit on the top of the straps for both pieces, and to the neckline, sleeves, and bottom hem of the back piece, as shown:

If you want to add it to the bottom hem of the front piece, it will help keep that hem flat when sewing it down later, but it's not essential.

If you choose to also use fusible webbing (WHICH I RECOMMEND), you will apply it to the stiff front panel similarly to how the interfacing was applied, ~3/8” strips along the neckline, sleeves, and top of the straps. Cut out two strips for the neckline and sleeves, because we'll use those later too.

Iron the strips onto the front panel as shown:

Once it's on, just peel off the paper, position it webbing-side down on the stretch fabric, and iron it to fuse the two pieces together so everything stays in place while you sew. THIS MAKES IT WAY EASIER TO SEW.

After the stiff front panel is fused to the stretch fabric, you’ll sew the straps of the front and back pieces together, then join the pieces along the sides. Pin the hell out of it to keep everything in place -this type of material is VERY prone to puckering.

When sewing, USE A ZIGZAG STITCH. A straight stitch will NOT WORK for stretch fabric. I adjust mine to 1.3mm long and 3.5mm wide which has worked well. If your machine doesn’t let you adjust stitch length or width, well. That sucks, I don’t really have any advice.

After you sew the front and back pieces together, you can add more fusible webbing to the front panel to help hold the hem down flat and prevent it from puckering while you sew it. Just add the strip, peel the paper off, then fold the hem over and iron it down. This part isn’t really necessary, but it does make the hems look nicer. If nothing else, I would recommend adding it to the neckline.

After that, you just fold & pin all the hems and sew them up with a zigzag stitch, then go over the raw edge at the top of the stiff panel (where we cut the straps shorter).

And that’s it! You’re done! And now you can make your own binders whenever you want!

And hey! If you used this tutorial and wanna throw me a dollar or two on ko-fi, I wouldn't complain.

[myderis]

love bites ꒱ mydei 'n fem reader ᰔ fluff 'n suggestive ⊹ word count 0.7k

MYDEI loved fiercely, the way only a warrior could—tender and untamed. The softness of his lips contrasting to how his fingers gripped your waist, after all, he was a child born under the influence of the God of Strife, a lion raised in war destined to fight, conquer, and guard his pride.

And just like a lion, he marked what was his. His teeth grazed the back of your neck, a possessive bite that made you ache for more, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin and it was maddening, the way he claimed your body and soul.

If someone had told you in the past that one day you’d be in a secret relationship with the prince of Kremnos, you would’ve laughed outright. The thought alone seemed absurd, almost impossible. But here you were hiding from prying eyes and mouths full of gossip.

The secret garden, aptly named by you, as what you do must remain a secret. Mydei had you pinned, his body pressed close, his hands exploring every inch of you, and when his soft lips met yours, demanding and giving, leaving you breathless. Kisses were traded like whispered secrets, stolen and deepened until soft gasps escaped your lips and you felt him smirk.

And just as your head tilted back, letting him have his fun, the sound of approaching footsteps, and rather familiar voice were caught in the distance. You froze. Mydei stiffened, his lips still lingering on your skin as both of you turned toward the sound. A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in shock.

“I apologize for the interruption and my uninvited presence at such a time." It was Aglaea the Goldweaver, the one bearing the Coreflame of Romance…She wasn’t shocked to find you together, she was surprised by Mydei’s affection towards you.

For once, you don’t pity her—that she doesn’t need light to measure the world, because the threads tell her more than enough. And this time, those threads had woven her right to you. Aglaea hesitated, her head tilting as though trying to decide whether to retreat or approach. Then, softly, she spoke again. “I need your help. It’s an important matter.”

You sighed, not wanting to be away from Mydei just yet, but when you glanced at him, his eyes met yours. Silently, they permitted you to go. “I will make it up to you, my love.” And as you kissed him goodbye, he didn’t fully turn around to watch you leave. His presence stayed, like a ghost kiss on your skin, as if he was with you even if he wasn't.

Aglaea placed a hand lightly on your arm as you turned to follow her. “I won’t tell anyone about this,” she promised, gently smiling at you. “Your secret is safe with me.” After all, she is your best friend and she keeps her promises.

Now, hours later in the company of Aglaea and Phainon, the golden threads of her robes shining bright as she adjusted them, you absentmindedly brushed a loose strand of hair back over your shoulder.

“Woah… What happened to you, (Name)?” Phainon’s voice caught you off guard because he seemed rather impressed.

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“That thing on your neck…” He pointed at his own neck to mimic the spot. “Is that a hickey?” Your eyes went wide as you panicked. A nervous laugh escaped your lips. “Oh, that is, um…” You turned to Aglaea, silently begging for help, but she was too busy adjusting her garmentmaker to notice. “That is a…”

“Something you have been hiding from me?” Phainon smirked, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying your embarrassment, to the point where he wanted to make you tell him everything in his special way.

“No! I was just… cuddling with a baby lion,” you blurted out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Phainon raised a brow, very skeptical. “A baby lion? Well, that’s cute. So when do I get to meet your new little pet?”

Before you could come up with another excuse, the door opened, and a familiar figure stepped in. It was Mydei. Phainon glanced between you and him, his smirk growing wider. He leaned in, and you just wanted to wipe the smile off his face. “Actually, I think I’ve already met him.”

© MYDERIS. do not translate, plagiarize, or steal my work.

[reiding-writing]

YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesn’t speak to your soul— but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? i’m a sucker for the “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, like he’s been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but she’s an oblivious genius and doesn’t realize how deep their affections for each other run……. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but it’s ok bc they smooch and make up in the end

263 DAYS — SPENCER REID!

a lot can change in 263 days.

spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.

a/n — writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but it’s been nice to get back into it 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending

DAY ONE

You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.

The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imagined—a sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.

The faint scent of coffee and something metallic—maybe old ink—hangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.

You’re here. You made it.

“First day?”

The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether you’re safe to approach.

He’s lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like they’ve seen a decade’s worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.

“Yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “And you must be Dr. Reid.”

He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. “Just Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.”

You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. “Nice to meet you, Reid.”

He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I don’t uh— germs—”

“Oh,” You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. “Sorry, uh—”

“No, no, it’s not you, I’m just— conscious about it,” He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.

You mirror it. “It’s nice to meet you anyway,”

“You too,”

His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way you’ve grown used to from strangers, but more like he’s cataloging details he can’t quite put into words. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.

“You’re nervous,” He says, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meant—it’s normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,” His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. “It can be... intense.”

A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. “Not exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,”

This time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I’m not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.”

You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.

But something about Reid—his sincerity, the way he tilts his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only you can provide—makes it hard to resist.

“So, what brought you to the BAU?” he asks.

The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isn’t just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.

“Truthfully? It’s… been a dream for years,” you admit. “I’ve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,”

His expression shifts, softens, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. “That makes sense,” he says quietly. “You’ll be good at this,”

The confidence in his words surprises you. “You don’t even know me,”

“Not yet,” he says, and there’s something almost playful in his tone. “But I’m usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,”

“Any initial impressions?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. “You’re smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... you’re kind. I think you’ll see things others might miss because of that,”

The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isn’t a word you’d ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.

“Thanks,” You say, and mean it.

Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. “Reid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.”

You glance over to see another man—broad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, you’d say that Derek Morgan.

Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.

As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when you’re not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.

Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.

The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.

But you also notice the little things—the way he fidgets with a pen when he’s nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating mystery he’s ever encountered.

By the time the day ends, you’re exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“You did well today,” he says, and there’s no trace of condescension in his tone—just genuine praise.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who it’s coming from.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, “You’re going to fit in here. I can tell,”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And you’re sure about that? Already?”

He nods, his gaze earnest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.”

The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.

As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you can’t help but think that maybe Reid is right.

Maybe you do belong here.

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE

The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.

By now, you’ve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.

Somewhere along the way, he’s become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.

It’s not that you don’t notice the way he seems to gravitate toward you—it’s just that you don’t think much of it.

Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, that’s just how he is. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The morning starts like any other.

A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhere—specifically on the chessboard in front of you.

“Check,” Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.

You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. “I don’t like you very much right now,” you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice warm.

“Don’t I?” you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. You’re stalling, and he knows it.

“Take your time,” he says, though there’s a playful glint in his eye. “It’s not like you have anything else to do today.”

You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this too much,”

“Maybe a little,”

The banter is easy, familiar. It’s become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.

Reid’s brow furrows as he examines the board. “Not bad,” he concedes.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.

“Lunch?” he asks, already rising to his feet.

“Let me guess,” you say, smirking. “Thai food again?”

“It’s efficient,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“Efficient isn’t the same as exciting,” you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.

The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did you finish that book I lent you?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’m close. You were right—it’s better than I expected,”

He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. “Told you. It’s all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the author—”

“Reid,” you interrupt, laughing. “Save the lecture for later. I’m still processing and I have a feeling you’re going to spoil the ending,”

He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.

—

Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.

It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there.

“Thought you could use this,” Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.

You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.

He doesn’t leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.

“You know,” you say, glancing at him, “you don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I like being here.”

There’s something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.

The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.

—

The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the building’s heating system.

“Checkmate,” Reid announces, his tone triumphant.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I give up. You’re officially unbeatable,”

He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You’re getting better,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Flattery won’t save you next time,” you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.

His smile falters, just for a moment, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place—something intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everything’s okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Of course,” you say, watching him.

As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR

It starts with the little things.

You notice Reid’s uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.

A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why you’d love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because he’s somehow always attuned to what you’re thinking.

It’s Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. He’s observant, that’s his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.

But then there are the things he shouldn’t know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadn’t thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.

You’d dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesn’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a cold, gray morning when the call comes in—a double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, you’re knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.

You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspect’s property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. It’s quiet—too quiet—and the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.

“I don’t like this,” you mutter, glancing at Reid.

He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. “Neither do I. Let’s stick together,”

The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.

You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.

Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reid’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

“FBI! Drop the weapon!”

The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.

Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.

“You’re okay,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “You’re going to be okay.”

You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Reid,”

His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. “Don’t joke,” he murmurs. “Please don’t joke.”

His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. “Just breathe. Help’s on the way. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel him—his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX

You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.

He’s sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.

“You’re awake,” he says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, your voice hoarse.

His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. “You have a talent for understatement,”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded—that makes your chest tighten.

“I thought—” He stops, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,”

“I’m alright, Reid” You offer gently.

He nods, but his jaw tightens as if he’s holding back a thousand words. “You scared me,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. “I’m okay,” you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.

For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.

You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easily—Morgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.

You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.

It’s when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.

Reid’s gaze.

He’s looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.

It’s not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.

The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like it’s punishing you.

Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didn’t know you needed—all of it comes crashing into focus.

How had you missed it?

But the thought doesn’t end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache you’ve felt for months.

The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when he’s near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touch—a brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.

Oh no.

Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.

“Hey,” Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You good? You’ve been quiet,”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.

Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.

It’s that smile—sweet and unguarded—that undoes you.

You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garcia’s voice rises animatedly, the way Rossi’s laughter rumbles like distant thunder.

Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.

And worse—much worse—is the fear that you’ve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you don’t yet understand.

By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name, let alone confront.

As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Just tired. Long day,”

He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “If you need to talk—”

“I’m fine, Reid,” you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.

His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you’ve just realised you’re in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.

As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO

The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excuses—paperwork, errands, a headache.

“It’s not you,” you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “Just busy.”

But it is him. Or rather, it’s you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You can’t bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.

It doesn’t feel cleaner. It feels awful.

—

Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.

At first, he’s subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet “Are you okay?” when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.

But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.

“Peace offering?” he says lightly.

You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.

“Thanks, Reid,” you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. “But I really need to finish this.”

He hesitates, the smile slipping. “Did I... do something?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.

“What? No, of course not,” you say quickly, too quickly.

“Then why—” He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesn’t believe them.

“Right,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything you’re not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll… let you get back to work, then,”

As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

—

That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.

Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?

The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadn’t done anything.

But facts don’t explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.

He doesn’t sleep that night, and by morning, he’s no closer to an answer.

But one thing is clear: he can’t lose you. Not like this.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE

It’s late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. You’re the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.

“Can we talk?”

You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.

“Reid, I’m really tired—”

“Please.” His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “Just a few minutes.”

You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.

He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. “Because if I did, I—I don’t know what it was. And I need to know, because you’ve been distant, and I—” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. “Reid...” You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just… been busy.”

“Busy?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. “It’s just... work has been overwhelming, and I haven’t had time, and—”

“Stop,” he says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know you,” he says, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. “I know when something’s wrong, and something is wrong. You don’t avoid people because you’re ‘busy.’ You don’t avoid me unless there’s a reason.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I’m not avoiding you—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. “I just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, or—”

“No!” The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. “No, Reid, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Why are you pulling away from me?”

His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth—laying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I just... I can’t.”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. “Can’t what?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see there—hurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerable—almost breaks you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

You don’t even remember the drive to Reid’s apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: “Why are you pulling away from me?”

You can’t do this anymore. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.

By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.

Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.

The door opens after a moment, and there he is—Spencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice uncertain.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. “Can I come in please?”

He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.

Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.

“I have been avoiding you,”

He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.

“because I’m an idiot,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Because I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that I—” You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.

“I’m in love with you, Reid.”

His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, you’ll lose the nerve to finish.

“And I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared you’d look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Please?”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until he’s standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he continues, his eyes searching yours. “You’re brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not... like I’m not so different. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.

“Spencer...”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—coffee and faint traces of his shampoo—wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. “Don’t be,” he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. “We’ve both been scared. But we don’t have to be anymore.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.

“Does this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice—”

His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.

But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.

It’s overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and it’s as if everything else—everything you’ve been afraid of, everything that’s kept you distant—melts away in that single, perfect moment.

The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything you’ve been holding back.

You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldn’t express.

The world outside this room fades into nothingness—the hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubt—all of it is gone. It’s just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. He’s looking at you like you’re something he’s dreamed of for so long but never thought he’d get to touch.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. “I think I have some idea,” you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. “I’m not that oblivious,”

He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well… I guess we’re both just really good at pretending.”

“Not anymore,” you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. “No more pretending. No more running. From now on, it’s just... us.”

Reid’s smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. “I promise,” he says softly. “I promise, I won’t let fear get in the way again,”

You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear won’t keep you apart any longer.

The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.

There’s no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment you’d spent together was building toward this.

“You know,” he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, “I think I’m starting to like this ‘not pretending’ thing.”

You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. There’s no rush now—just the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.

When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve both been through.

And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX

Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world that’s familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.

The team notices almost immediately. They’re profilers, after all.

It starts with the little things—your hand brushing against Spencer’s as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.

“Something you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.

Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. “I—uh, no, nothing.”

From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like she’s connecting the dots. “Wait a second. Are you two—?”

“We’re not talking about this,” you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.

“Oh, we will talk about this,” Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. “Just as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.”

Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, don’t comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.

So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of him—nervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askew—makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Hey,” he says softly, approaching your desk.

“Hey,” you reply, setting aside the file you’ve been working on. “What’s that?”

He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. “It’s for you,” he says, a little shyly. “I’ve had it for a while, but… I was waiting for the right moment,”

Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see what’s inside: a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought you’d own.

“Spencer,” you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. “This is—this is incredible.”

He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I remembered how much you loved it, and, well… I wanted you to have it,”

You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. It’s not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.

When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. “I think I like this ‘new chapter’ we’re in,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.

“Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.

As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything you’ve built together, you steal another glance at him.

He’s already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smiles—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.

This is where I’m supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.

[xingumi]

jasmine (megumi fushiguro x reader)

“you can’t, okay? not with him. not with anyone else. just me now.” 

tags: sfw, fluff, crush confession, possessive megumi, jealous megumi, friends to lovers, itadori is also there, nobara is also there, megumi can’t be honest with himself

notes: first fic!! also posted on my ao3, my writing requests are open :3 i wrote this for my friend and maybe some1 else will like too... art by @pantarheio8

----

megumi makes every effort to be a perfect gentleman. he holds your bags on shopping trips, picks up the lunch bill, and pulls his punches while sparring with you during training. his gestures are always perfectly measured, showing slight softness but keeping him at a safe, respectable distance. mostly because he didn’t like what it would mean for him if he let himself get any closer. 

his self control was a fragile thing, fraying at the edges when you spared a glance for anyone else. there is a limit to how far his friendly courtesy goes; his greed speaks to him stronger than his restraint, whispering insidious little thoughts– should be mine… 

he only recently came to the shameful realization of just how much he likes you. it didn’t happen all at once, it was slower. quieter, like a stray thread of his heart snagging and unraveling before he could stop it. he caught himself looking at you for a moment longer than necessary and he noticed the way his chest felt too tight when you smiled at him. it pained him how badly he wanted to monopolize your attention and how easily you monopolized his.

by the time he understood what it meant, it was already too late. megumi fushiguro had fallen in love with you. and somehow, that was the last thing he had ever wanted.

he cared too much about you to say something to you, to be freed from his silent yearning and to love you the way you were intended to be loved. he couldn’t throw away your friendship for feelings that he himself didn’t understand.

so he kept his hands in his pockets when he wanted to reach for yours. he looked away when you leaned in too close. he bit his tongue when the words hovering on the edge of his lips weren’t the ones a friend should say.

still, he hated the bitterness that came from being kept from his heart’s desire.

the proof is in the muscles in his face that twitch and flash a disapproving frown at the sight of itadori laxly throwing his arm around you. it bothered him how easily yuji touched you like it was nothing at all. it bothered him more that you seem to lean into the “friendly” gesture. he tries to explode itadori’s arm with his mind, unavailingly.

“on saturday, we can spend the whole day in tokyo, girls trip, no boys!” nobara exclaims like an eager grade schooler, linking her arm through yours and yanking you from itadori’s grasp. while thankful for that, a small wrinkle forms between megumi’s tightly knit brows. it doesn’t seem fair that she gets to lay claim to your time in a way that he couldn’t without blowing his cover. even nobara isn’t safe from megumi’s possessiveness. he sighs and turns a page in the book he’s pretending to read. 

you free yourself from being sandwiched between your two friends, standing abruptly from the couch. 

“i’d love to, bara, but i’m training with fushiguro that day.” you say apologetically, turning on your heels and planting yourself in the seat next to megumi.

hearing his name is bittersweet. he wishes you wouldn’t be so formal, but he loves hearing you say his name. in the quietest hours of the night, he imagines the sound of your voice ringing in his ear, calling his name over and over again. 

“whaatt? is this true?” nobara demands, narrowing her eyes at megumi. her voice snaps him back to reality and he replies without looking up. 

“she skipped last week. it’s only fair.” he remembers that you were markedly missing that day. your absence didn’t go unnoticed as you’d hoped it would. 

nobara huffs, defeated. “oh yeah, AND we missed human earthworm 4 because you saw it last saturday with yuji!”

megumi’s whole body stiffens. the room feels a little smaller and his breath suddenly feels uncomfortable in his throat. 

is that where she disappeared to? a whole day with him? why not anyone else? did they…  were they just hanging out? why didn’t she tell me? i’ve known her for longer than he has, so why would it be him?

megumi is quiet for a long minute. his white knuckles grip the book in his hand that he’s been using as a prop. his eyebrows are stitched together closer than before and his lips have pressed themselves into a thin line. 

i don’t even care! but… was it a date? does she like him or something? he definitely likes her, that piece of shit, he doesn’t know the first thing about her. 

but she didn’t even think to ask me. i want her to hang out with me. am i too late?

he barely heard the rest of the conversation. his mind was stuck on the image forming in his head— itadori walking beside you, making you laugh, sitting too close in a dark theater.

if he tried anything, i’ll seriously kill him. he’s dead either way. 

you notice megumi’s withdrawn posture and look at him inquisitively, craning your neck to gauge his body language. he’s quiet but not this quiet. he looks really, really pissed off. to you, it just looked like his book had just deeply offended him. you lean closer to him to get his attention. his eyes shoot up for a brief second to meet your concerned eyes. he feels like he’s been caught, like you can see right through him. 

“‘s something wrong?” you ask, wanting to put a comforting hand on his knee. you stop yourself, not knowing how he would receive the touch.

“confusing chapter,” he lies, with more hardness in his voice than he intended. 

– 

megumi couldn’t think straight the rest of the day. he was filled with a tight uneasiness and a heart-sinking feeling simmering beneath his skin that was impossible to ignore. he was so distraught by the idea of someone else making you smile in a way that was supposed to be his to earn.

the day passed unwillingly. every conversation felt like static in his ears. the training session was a waste of movement, his focus was shot to hell. even the simplest things—walking through the halls, eating dinner, hearing your voice—felt grating. the more he thought about it, the worse it got. the worse he got. 

the sky had deepened from azure to deep navy and the corridors quieted for the night. he was sick of his thoughts looping over themselves, tangled and knotting up. he figured that he’d done enough sulking for the day. 

megumi found himself on his feet, walking through the hall in a posture and cadence that felt weird, even to him. he couldn’t stop his feet from dragging as he navigated his way to your room. the walk was too short for him to reconsider his reckless decision. he stares at your door blankly before tapping three hollow knocks on the wood. 

“hello? it’s me,” he whispers, just loud enough to be heard through the wall. his voice is quivering already.

you’re reading your textbook when you hear his familiar voice cut the silence of the evening. startled, you slide out of bed to meet him at the door. he’s unexpectedly close to the door when you open it, making him shift back half a step. 

“hi, megumi,” you smile and look up at him. his arms hung awkwardly at his sides and his hands clenched and unclenched, like he didn’t know what to do with them. the blue light from the window in the hallway hit his angular face in a way that carved shadows along his sharp features, making his eyes seem darker and stormier. he’s always been handsome, sure, but something’s different about him now. you feel strangely intimidated by the broadness of his shoulders and the severe look he’s giving you now. 

he’s quiet for a second too long, also taking in how pretty you look out of uniform. 

“may i come in?” megumi asks, his voice still low. 

“of course,” you reply.

if he was nervous before, he was absolutely frantic walking into your room. his heart drummed against his ribs in a hurried rhythm, an anxious percussion echoing in his chest. 

“make yourself at home,” you gesture with open palms to your room. megumi is too nervous to sit so he stands with his feet planted in the dead center of your room.

“i hope i’m not intruding, were you up to something before this?” 

“not at all, you actually saved me from studying for history,” you laugh a little. his expression softens and his resolve is refreshed by the sound of your laughter. how could he let anyone else take this from him?

“okay, good…” megumi’s voice trails off. his breathing is heavier than usual. multiple beats of silence pass, too long and too heavy. it’s never usually awkward like this. you watch him, a bit lost as to why your crush of many months is standing in your room, stiff as a soldier at attention. 

even now, when he’s uncharacteristically uneasy, there’s something magnetic about him. a long day has weathered his usual guarded demeanor, leaving him looking just a little undone—his hair messier than usual, and in his casual clothes, the sharp control he always carries himself with has softened at the edges. somehow, his unpolished silhouette makes him even more handsome. there’s something breathtaking about seeing him like this, as if, for once, you’re seeing what’s underneath all the restraint he usually wears like armor.

still, he couldn’t have come at this hour of the night to have small talk. you don’t speak, just tilting your head at him, sensing there’s something he wants to say by the way his lips are parted slightly.  

he realizes then he has to get it out. he swallows hard, trying to draw enough moisture from his throat to speak. he exhales sharply through his nose, eyes flickering to the floor before dragging back up to meet yours.

then–

“i–,” his breath hitches. the words stick in his throat, thick and burning, because once they’re out, there’s no taking them back. he takes a labored breath before trying again. this time, his voice comes out in a rush like floodgates opening. 

“i just have to say something. i can’t watch like everything’s okay, i can’t pretend like it doesn’t bother me because it does. it really, really does. it’s driving me insane, because it’s not just today, it’s every time i see you with someone else, every time i think about–” he sucks in a shaky breath before his words roll out heavy again.

“i like you, okay? i’ve always liked you. you don’t know what you do to me and i’ve never felt this way about anything.” he drags one hand through his hair and avoids your gaze. 

“i’ve been waiting all this time– i don’t even know for what, but it was completely stupid because it feels like you’re slipping through my fingers and i’m too late and i just can’t–” he’s becoming completely undone in front of you, his voice swelling like an intense musical score. he shakes his head and struggles to become coherent. his voice comes out quieter when he speaks again. 

“i just– i can’t lose you. i can’t stand the thought of it, please…” by the end of his desperate ramble, his eyes have darted to every corner of your room and he’s sweating. when the dust has settled, he’s breathless, almost panting. 

“please, say something,” he’s pleading now, his voice even lower. 

despite his request, you don’t say anything at all. you can’t find the words. your feet move by themselves, silently taking swift steps towards him and closing the distance between the two of you. you hook your arms under his, pulling yourself to his chest. you finally hear how hard his heart is beating now. your head rests underneath his chin as you firmly wrap your arms around him and breathe him in fully.

“you don’t have to worry about losing me.”

megumi doesn’t immediately register the warm pressure that’s lodged itself comfortably against him. suddenly, his knees feel weak and his shoulders slump, finally being relieved of the tension he’s been holding all day. at the same instant, the invisible barrier he’d built around himself shatters, crumbling beneath the weight of your warmth.

for a moment, he can’t move at all, but his instincts bring his arms to you, hesitant at first, then tighter, pulling you flush against him like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. his hands grab at the fabric of your shirt, less chivalrously than he would’ve consciously decided. 

“you really mean it?” he whispers hoarsely. you nod without pulling yourself away from him.

in this moonlit memory, beautiful and tender, you can’t help but laugh. stoic and aloof megumi fushiguro has become a nervous wreck in a way you could’ve never imagined. you found it both endearing and amusing how helplessly vulnerable he made himself be for you. amusing only because he had been so wracked with anxiety, thinking you didn’t feel the same way, and he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

he feels the vibration of your failed attempt to hold your laughter and looks down, arms still around you. you meet his eyes, beaming ear to ear. 

“this is about that thing with itadori, right?”

he throws his head to one side and gives a weak scowl, irritated at the mention of his name. you laugh again, taking his dramatic annoyance as an answer to your question. it also annoyed him how well you knew him; he was a completely open book to you. he shakes his head. “no, well yes, but no, not really,” he huffs.

“i’ll have to thank him for bringing this out of you then.”

“i think you’ve had enough time with him recently.” megumi retorts quickly, abruptly shutting that idea down. 

you laugh again while soaking up the last seconds of his embrace before finally peeling yourself off him. you’re still connected at the waist when you meet his half lidded eyes, intently focused and glazed over with need. 

“you can’t, okay? not with him. not with anyone else. just me now.” he whispers, suddenly serious.

he says it with such authority that you don’t question what he means. you give him one slow nod. you notice how painfully close your faces are. you feel his steady breath tickling your skin. his hand finds its way to your chin, tilting your head up and to one side. anticipation paints your face as you both inch closer—

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Wrongful Imprisonment

Male Alpha Yandere Prisoner x Omega Male Reader CW: Noncon, imprisonment, prison setting, knotting, mating cycles, a/b/o, rut/heat, knotting, size difference, ass eaten like it's groceries, general yandere behavior Word Count: 2k (Sorry this took so long.)

You never thought you would find yourself in prison. But there you were. Locked away in a minimum security facility.

You were innocent. When your home was raided you had no idea there were drugs there. Your boyfriend at the time had put all the blame on you to escape punishment.

What's worse was that you were an omega sentenced to a mixed facility full of alphas. Since male omegas were so rare no one bothered to make separate facilities for them.

They forcefully drugged away your heats to the best of their ability but the meds had side effects on your mood and gave you dizzy spells. And they weren't perfect. Even without a heat a faint scent of omega peaked through. During heats it was a bit more pronounced.

To some of the alphas who had been there for years it was enough to get their interest. And they were not men whose interest you wanted.

It was terrifying. The cells had no doors so you were in constant fear that you'd wake up with a rapist over you.

The guards were no help. You did your best to avoid all of the alphas of ill intent for as long as you could manage it, but one time you were cornered.

They had followed you in from the yard and crept up behind you. You flailed, scratched, and bit but they didn't take your struggles well and beat you until you stopped fighting.

You could hear them snickering as one slammed his knee into your gut before giving you two brutal punches to the face. You doubled over in pain, your nose bloody and tears cascading down your swollen face.

"Just be a good cock sleeve and stay still"

You felt your pants being yanked down to your knees.

"Look at how tight it's pussy is!"

You prepared for the worst, unable to eek out any pleas over your ragged sobs of hurt and fear.

But the worst never happened. Instead you heard growling followed by hisses and cries of pain.

Your pants were pulled up and you were helped onto your shaky feet.

In front of you stood a sweaty mountain of a man. He was about your age. Tan skin and red hair. All muscle. Probably spent every free moment lifting weights.

Which wasn't really true. Lately he also spent a lot of time watching you from a distance. Trying to get to know the one who's scent called to him so strongly despite the suppressants.

"Th-tha-th-" You tried to mutter a thanks, but your assault and near rate had sent you into a full panic attack.

"Shhh, don't try to talk. It's okay."

His green eyes stared into yours as he inspected your facial injuries. Nothing was broken.

He gently led you back to his doorless cell. The cells had a lot of traffic. You were a bit nervous but you were more scared to be alone and if he had wanted to hurt you he could have.

At least, that's what you had thought. Though you were completely unaware of how badly he wanted to bend you over and fill your body full of his seed. Unlike the brutes from before though he at least wanted you to moan and cling to him while he did it.

He introduced himself and you managed to return the courtesy once your sobs had lessened.

His name was Lance.

And over the months you spent in prison the two of you had become very close.

He kept you within his sight at all times and made sure you were safe. The two of you even managed to have it arranged where you could share the same cell so he could protect you at night and prevent you from getting a bad roommate.

Lance also rubbed all your clothes every morning on him so they had his scent to keep you safe.

The alpha even had the idea to give you a claiming bite just to make sure no one would try anything.

You allowed him to do so, you didn't think it meant anything. In fact, he had reassured you that it hadn't. It was just another measure to protect you.

Of course that wasn't how the alpha saw it at all. Even though he hadn't bed you he considered you his mate. And really, if anything, the fact you were so naïve about it only proved that he was taking the correct course of action.

You were too trusting and soft. That's how you had ended up there in the first place. That's why those vermin tried to get their unworthy hands on you.

You were his mate. Even if you didn't know it yet. You needed him.

And he needed you too. Your scent and personality drove him to keep you safe. So kind. A perfect mate for him. You were the only light in his otherwise miserable existence. To say that you were as essential as oxygen to him would be an understatement.

And after he saved you from those lesser alphas his instincts screamed that he owned you. He had won you in a physical contest.

The alpha just had to calm himself down and be patient. He would get you gradually. He was confident he was almost there.

Until you got the news that you were being released early because new evidence had come to light.

Lance feigned joy at the news.

"I am glad... a place like this really isn't for a person like you..."

"Yeah! And now I won't have to be such a burden to you anymore either! Thanks for helping me so much Lance, you're a great friend. I'll miss you."

Inwardly Lance wanted to go on a rampage. His mate was being taken away from him! He wouldn't be able to protect you. Someone might try to hurt you and touch you with hands unworthy of your skin.

The mere thought filled him with unbridled anger.

Lance knew what he had to do.

/////////

It had been just a couple months since your release and you were adjusting about as well as could be expected for someone in your situation.

You had been money from a settlement for being falsely imprisoned so finances weren't an issue. But you had no friends on the outside anymore. You had nothing to do.

And the ptsd from over a year of living like an animal was immense.

The hardest thing to adjust to, at least physically, was no longer being on industrial strength suppressants. And the very strong heats that accompanied that change.

It was during one such extreme heat that Lance broke out of prison and was making his way up the hill right towards your secluded home. He could smell you from far off.

He was in rut. He had not seen his omega in months. And he could smell your heat.

The alpha was coming for you... and very soon... he would be cumming in you.

When he came upon your home he noticed the window was open. You were so careless! Just letting your damn heat scent drift out and attract any piece of shit alpha right to your open window!! You were really fucking lucky you had such a dedicated mate like him though. So loyal that he broke through prison to take care of you.

He watched you for a minute through your open window. Poor little omega. Writhing in your empty nest. No alpha scent to soothe you. Your nude form hot and sweaty, jerking your cock and bucking your hips fervently, a puddle of slick staining your blankets. And the smell was insane, practically screaming for someone to slide in you.

But fate had provided you with a strong lover that was going to fuck all your frustrations right away.

As he stepped through your window your eyes snapped to him immediately, his musky smell grabbing your attention. “L-lance? B-but…”

“I got out for you. Now I can help you and we can be together.” His voice was low and raspy. Almost animalistic.

You recoiled in fear of him and fell out of your bed.

Lance was hurt that his precious lover was scared of him, but he understood. Past lovrs had hurt you and other alphas had tried to rape you very violently. But that’s not what he would do. He was going to keep you safe. Take care of your needs.

“You n-need to leave Lance.”

It was so hard to think clearly. Your body was on fire and his smell was so comforting even though you didn’t want his knot in you. He was still an attractive alpha who you had been close to and your body wanted to be closer. And he could smell it.

“No. I need to breed my husband.”

“Lance, y-you’re not my-”

He stood over you and picked you up easily, putting you back into your nest. He knelt beside it so that his head was right by your ass that was hanging off. He positioned your legs on his shoulders and inhaled deeply.

The scent you were giving off was too captivating, especially there, he could no longer even process your words. He tenderly nuzzled his nose beneath your balls, drinking in the scent and kissing each of your nuts gently before focusing his attention on your needy, slick-leaking hole.

He stared at it in awe for a moment, like a dragon appraising his most precious treasure.

Lance slid his tongue right in and began wriggling it to get at every inch he could reach, reveling in the needy sounds you made between your flustered protests. He kissed it and removed his lips, a small string of drool and slick briefly connecting your hole with his lips.

The alpha then flipped you on to your belly and climbed into the nest with you after discarding his pants and underwear, he took off his sweaty shirt and laid it under your head so you could enjoy his scent while he bred you. He put your head down and kept your ass up. You would have protested, but you couldn’t stay in your right mind any longer.

Not after the tongue fucking he had given you, not with his scent so concentrated with your face pressed into it.

You gripped his shirt and pressed it closer to you, trying to inhale the musk as much as you possibly could. His heart leapt at the sight of it all. His little omega was presenting so nicely for him all while drowning so willingly in his smell.

He gripped your hips firmly, but still careful not to hurt you as he sank his cock into you deeply.

Lance gasped as the wet heat engulfed his entire length. You fit over him so well. There was not a fraction of a doubt in his mind, you were made just for him.

You moaned and drooled into the shirt your loving mate had provided as his flesh smacked against yours. Faster and faster he slammed into you with your slutty noises driving him on until his knot swelled and his cum was pumped into you.

The alpha renewed that claiming bite he had given you as the two of you became tied together and while licking your fresh wound he lightly humped into you until you came hard as well. He caged your body with his and held you tightly to him as you both panted and waited for the knot to go down.

As your mind temporarily cleared you were aware that this was not something you wanted.

But it wasn’t something that you could fight either.

After everything you had been through you were still just a prisoner.

[miihho]

can do headcannons for Myung-gi? Thank you 😭😭

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) sfw

Myung-gi / Player 333

—HE'S THE KIND OF GUY who found himself in fights more often than he’d like to admit. His past was a tangled mess of mistakes and choices that led him down this path. Most times, when he was beaten down, no one cared enough to stop. They’d walk by, eyes averted, pretending not to see him lying there, bruised and exhausted. The pain was familiar, but it was something he had learned to endure alone. So when he found himself on the ground once again, bloodied and sore, he didn’t expect anything to change. He didn’t expect someone to stop and help.

But then, through the blur of his vision, he saw you. Standing there, glowing like something out of a dream, your eyes full of concern. “Are you alright?” you asked, your voice soft, but it was filled with genuine concern. He blinked, shaking his head as if to clear the daze.

“Yeah…” he muttered, wincing slightly as he grabbed your hand and tried to stand. “It didn’t hurt that much.” He forced a weak smile, brushing the dust off his clothes, but his body was screaming from the blows he’d taken. You didn’t look convinced, your eyes scanning him with a frown. “You have bruises everywhere,” you said softly, taking in the sight of his battered form. “You need help, can i treat you?"

He wanted to refuse. He wanted to push you away and tell you it wasn’t worth it, that he was just someone who always ended up in situations like this. But your steady gaze stopped him. He nodded, letting you lead him away from the scene, knowing this would probably be the first time someone would care enough to make sure he wasn’t left to bleed out in a corner.He didn’t expect much—just a quick fix for the bruises. But as you carefully cleaned his cuts and bruises, your touch gentle and your voice soft, something inside him shifted.

The way you didn’t rush, the way you took your time, treating him with more care than anyone ever had, started to break down the walls he’d built around himself. His body still ached, but there was a warmth in his chest, a quiet comfort he hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t falling in love with you right away. But in that moment, as you tended to his wounds and your eyes met his, something began to grow, slowly and quietly—an unfamiliar feeling, one that made him want to stay just a little longer.

—He’s the type of guy who keeps a distance from everyone, always a little cold, a little aloof, because it’s easier that way. He’s learned to build walls around himself, to guard his emotions, keeping people at arm’s length so he won’t get hurt. It’s become second nature—familiar and safe. But when it comes to you, everything shifts. You become the exception to the rules, the one who manages to break through the armor he’s so carefully crafted.

In your presence, the ice that’s kept him safe for so long begins to melt. The walls that once seemed impenetrable start to crumble, piece by piece, as he finds himself opening up in ways he never thought possible. It’s a vulnerability he’s not used to, one that both terrifies and comforts him in equal measure. For the first time, he doesn’t have to pretend. With you, he can just be. And it’s that warmth, that quiet shift in his soul, that makes him realize—maybe letting you in wasn’t as frightening as he once thought.

—He's type of guy who’d get nervous around you, never having interacted with a girl properly before. This whole thing was new to him. He would rehearse a simple greeting in front of the mirror, repeatedly stumbling over his words.

"Hello, nice to meet you again," he'd say, practicing until it felt right.

But the moment he saw you, standing there, his mind went blank. Flustered, he blurted out, "Meet hello again."

His face flushed red with embarrassment, and without a word, he quickly walked off, leaving you laughing softly at his awkward charm.

—Hes the kind of guy who would drop to his knees with tear-streaked cheeks, begging for another chance. The kind of guy who would plead, his voice trembling with desperation, asking you to take him back.

— He’s the kind of guy who melts under your touch, leaning into the soft strokes of your fingers as they weave through his hair. With you perched on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, he looks up at you as if you’re the only thing that matters in the world. His eyes, brimming with warmth, trace every feature of your face, and his smile—soft, tender, overflowing with affection—speaks the words his heart can’t contain. To him, this moment is everything: your closeness, your comfort, the quiet intimacy of being held by the one he loves.

—He’s the kind of guy who would drop everything at a moment’s notice just to make you happy. If you told him you wanted your favorite food, he wouldn’t just order it—he’d make sure it came from the best place, double-checking the details so it’s exactly how you like it. If you said you wanted something more, he’d move mountains to find it, his every action steeped in quiet devotion.

—He’s the kind of guy who would hold your bag without hesitation, tie your shoelaces if they came undone, and memorize all the little things that make you smile. If you said you were cold, he’d wrap his jacket around you without a second thought, even if he ended up freezing. If you called him in the middle of the night, needing someone to talk to, he’d show up at your door, no matter how far or inconvenient it was. If you mentioned something you like, he’d make a mental note and surprise you with it later, just to see the joy in your eyes. He’d stay up late if you needed him, wake up early to make your mornings easier, and cancel his own plans just to be there when you need him most.

For him, your happiness is worth everything. He doesn’t just listen to your words—he treasures them, acting on them like they’re his life’s purpose, because loving you isn’t a chore; it’s his greatest joy.

—He’s the kind of guy who pays attention to the tiniest details about you. Like the songs you hum when you’re happy, the exact shade of your favorite color. He remembers your birthday without needing a reminder, but he also knows the little anniversaries you don’t expect him to, like the day you first met or the first time you smiled at him in that special way.

He’d go out of his way to buy you things that match your favorite color—not just big gifts but the little ones, like a keychain he spotted at the store or a pen because he remembered you needed one. He’d surprise you with your favorite snacks on bad days and bring you flowers that match the hues you love, just to see your face light up.

—He’s the kind of guy who listens intently when you talk, even if it’s about something small, and he brings it up later to let you know he was paying attention. He’d notice when you’re feeling off, even if you try to hide it, and he’d do whatever it takes to make you feel better—whether it’s running to get your comfort food, wrapping you in a blanket, or just holding you until the world feels a little less overwhelming.

To him, it’s the small things that matter most because those details are what make you you, and he wants to love every single one of them.

—He's the kind of guy who stumbles over his words when you get too close, as if your presence is too much for him to handle. You don't realize how his heart races, a frantic rhythm he can't control, every beat echoing the weight of your nearness. He tries to pull away, but it's impossible—you're the only thing that makes him feel alive.

—He's kind of guy who would stay away from you for months, not because he wanted to, but because he believed it was for your safety. He worried endlessly that if anyone saw you with him, they’d make you a target—hurt you just to get to him. The thought of putting you in danger was unbearable, so he chose the distance, even if it tore him apart inside.

—Myung gi is the kind of guy who’d make you believe he has pure intentions, but the truth is far darker. He wants you all to himself—every moment of every day, your laughter, your smile, your touch. It's all his in his mind. The thought of anyone else having even a fraction of you fills him with jealousy, and he’ll do anything to keep it that way. You’re his everything, and in his eyes, no one else deserves a piece of you.

—He’s the kind if guy who secretly craves being treated like a precious little one, wanting to be praised for being good, his heart swelling at every word of affection you give him. When you look at him with that soft, loving gaze, calling him "baby" and showering him with overly sweet pet names, something inside him melts. It's not just the words, it's the way you care for him—like he's fragile, like he’s yours to protect. He acts tough on the outside, but deep down, he’s soft for you. Your attention, your affection—it’s everything to him, and he’s more than willing to be the one who melts under your love. He’d give anything to hear you speak to him like that forever.

(he's so IWBWIWHWIWJ😭😭☹️👊🏻)

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ You Hold a Piece of Me — Cookie Run Dragons x Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Prompt is based off of the headcanon that Dragons offer their scales to court <3

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Pitaya Dragon Cookie

ᯓᡣ𐭩 On the day of the presentation, Pitaya had asked you to a sparring match. You happily accepted, but the Dragon seemed more careful than usual, almost fumbling at times

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Their steps were more measured, moving with a practiced carefulness you hadn't seen from them before. Why now of all times were they holding back? Why were they so distracted? It was so unlike them

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Your answer came when they straightened up once the match concluded, clearing their throat to get your attention. They held out a bright scale, red fading to green shimmering in the light of day while they avoided your eyes

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Don't do anything ssstupid and break it," Pitaya warned in a mumble, a deep blush on their pink cheeks. Their tail wagged a little as they almost shoved it into your hands "A gift from a Dragon should be treated with ressspect! Ssso... take good care of it, alright?!". You smiled as you carefully held it over your heart "I promise. Thank you, Pitaya"

Ananas Dragon Cookie

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ananas always shared their spoils with you, every bit of food and offerings that towered up were lovingly handed to you in kind. They'd even made a nest for you to rest right beside them as they helped you indulge

ᯓᡣ𐭩 They had invited you over for a grand feast, spoiling you by sharing the freshest fruits, and of course allowing you to feed them by hand personally. They then shifted, moving from being tightly pressed to your side to creating sudden distance

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You were about to ask what was wrong, when they held out their claws, cupping a stunning glistening yellow scale between them. Their smile grew fonder at seeing your awe, and they leaned in to whisper to you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "There's a reason I've asked you to this feast," they began, turning over your palm. They gently put the scale in your hand "Take it as an offering from me. A promise that you're my treasure, among all the island's gifts"

Lotus Dragon Cookie

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Wish Dragon was well known for their preference for comfort, and with you that was no exception. You'd gotten your own room in their home, a place to keep utmost serenity

ᯓᡣ𐭩 They called for you, waiting before a large spring lake, strumming their instrument. You came forwards, sitting in front of them and merely watching for a moment. They gave you a fond smile at the sight

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When the song concluded, you applauded, and Lotus chuckled while giving a little bow. They then reached into their robes, extending a rose pink silk-wrapped object to you. You nearly felt your breath catch at the way the emerald scale underneath caught in the silver moonlight

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "It's only fair that I get to have a wish of my own, yes?" Lotus chuckled, cupping their hands under yours "My one desire.. is that you keep this safe. It's a piece of me, you see, and I trust you to take very good care of it. You'll be keeping this for a long, long time"

Longan Dragon Cookie

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You held great respect for the ivory dragon, knowing their kindness did not come easy, but they had always extended a degree of care for you. They kept you safe, guarded by their side for ultimate protection

ᯓᡣ𐭩 In a rare moment of peace, they were gently petting your crispy little cheeks, watching with amusement how easily you felt comforted by their touch. All their eyes watched as they held out a little gold box to you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You looked to them, seeing their firm gaze unwavering as they gave you a little nod. You opened it, seeing the white scale that was within. You took it into your hands, feeling the sharpness of it's edges with awe in your gaze

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Take this and keep it well, little Cookie. It will serve you in the plans to come" Longan said cooly, holding you closer to their form "You do not bend as easily as others do. You have earned this gift, as a token of my notice. Don't make waste of it."

[beloveds-embrace]

(Bakery/coffee shop au where you have a specific policy of not serving people what they ask for, but rather what you think they need

Bakery Masterlist)

The bell above the door chimed, and the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla greeted Kate Laswell and her wife as they stepped inside.

It was cozy and quaint- exactly as John and the rest of the boys had described it. Wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of house-made jams and neatly arranged bags of coffee beans. Soft music played from a radio in the corner, and the golden glow of afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, making the whole place feel… safe.

Laswell’s wife was the first to speak, nudging Kate gently with her elbow. “Told you we had to come.”

Kate let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe they kept talking about a bakery, of all things.”

“They swear by this place,” her wife grinned. “Even Graves comes here, apparently.”

Kate scoffed. “That man would drink jet fuel if it had a fancy name.”

A warm voice cut through their conversation. “Welcome in,” you greeted, stepping up to the counter with an easy smile. “First time here?”

Kate nodded, eyeing you with the same sharpness she brought into every new situation- assessing, measuring. “Heard a lot about this place.”

“All good things, I hope.”

Her wife smiled. “Very good.”

You wiped your hands on your apron. “Then you probably know how this works. You tell me what you think you want, and I’ll give you what I know you need.”

Kate raised a brow, smirking slightly. “Is that so?”

You just smiled back.

Her wife leaned against the counter, playing along. “Alright. We’ll bite. I’ll say a caramel macchiato.”

Kate sighed, shaking her head. “I would have said black coffee…”

“It’ll be an immediate no.” You shook your head, amused and grinning.

“Hmm. So I’ll go with an Earl Grey tea.”

You hummed, studying them both.

There was something steady about them- something solid. It was clear they’d been together for a long time, the kind of couple who knew each other’s thoughts before they were spoken. But there was also something unspoken between them. Not distance, exactly. Just… familiarity. A well-worn rhythm, like a song they had played a thousand times before.

You smiled to yourself. I know just the thing.

A few minutes later, you placed their drinks and pastries on the table they had chosen by the window.

For Kate, a dark chocolate sea salt mocha. For her wife, a honey rose latte. Alongside them, you placed a shared dessert- a fresh raspberry almond tart.

Kate eyed it, brow raised. “I don’t remember asking for dessert.”

“You didn’t,” you said simply. “But I still think you should share it.”

Her wife laughed, already reaching for a fork. “I like her.”

Kate rolled her eyes but picked up a fork as well anyway. “Alright, alright.”

At first, it was just casual. A sip of the drinks, a quiet hum of approval. A bite of tart, a soft mmh, that’s good. But as they settled into it, something shifted.

Kate’s wife took a bite and sighed, eyes fluttering shut for just a second. “God, that takes me back.”

Kate looked at her, curious. “To what?”

“Our first trip to Paris,” she murmured, glancing at Kate with a fond smile. “That little café near the Seine. We sat there for hours.”

Kate’s fork paused midair. She remembered that day- the quiet rain, the way they had tucked into a tiny corner table, stealing bites from each other’s plates, hands brushing over coffee cups. They had been younger, a little reckless, completely lost in each other.

She swallowed, the warmth in her chest having nothing to do with the mocha. “Yeah. I remember.”

Her wife’s fingers brushed against the back of her hand, just briefly, but it sent a flicker of something old and new all at once. A quiet reminder. We’re still here. Still us.

Kate huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Her wife grinned. “Not reakly.” She took another sip of her latte, sighing happily. “But I do think we should come back. This… turned out far better than we both expected.”

Kate smirked, glancing over at you as you ambled by them after serving another customer. “Alright, I’ll admit it- you’re good.”

You simply shrugged, though there was a smug smile on your lips. “I just give people what they need.”

Kate chuckled, shaking her head as she reached for another bite of tart. Maybe she’d tease Price and the boys a little less for their obsession with this place.

Maybe.

[moonstruckme]

hi, loveyy. if you'd like, would you write for reader x dr!remus where she's really sick and tries to hide it from him so he doesn't worry?

Thanks for requesting!

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus keeps your apartment torturously cold. Normally you don’t mind it, but today you’re achy enough without the chill. The first thing you do when you get home is crank up the thermostat, then take a steamy shower and start warming the kettle. Proactive measures. 

You’re taking better care of yourself than you possibly ever have, all to the end of eluding your boyfriend. 

When Remus comes home, you’re sitting on the couch in your cozies waiting for your thoroughly honeyed tea to cool. You’re quick to remove the warm cloth from your sinuses before he can see. You make sure your throat is clear before you speak. 

“Hi, how was work?” 

“Swamped.” Remus bends over the back of the couch to kiss your hair. “Everyone has the flu, strep, or both. Every year, no one gets their flu jabs, and every year they’re shocked when they catch it.” He comes to sit by you, smiling tiredly. “I’d want to throttle all of them if they weren’t already so miserable.” 

It’s an effort to keep your shame from showing as you return his smile. Remus starts to lean toward you, but you back away, keeping your mouth a safe distance from his. 

At his questioning look, you say feebly, “You smell like your office.” 

He lets out a breath of laughter but moves away. “Alright. I’ll change.” 

You send him a guilty look as he goes that he doesn’t know the half of, but Remus only smiles indulgently back at you. 

From down the hall, you hear, “Dovey, did you change the thermostat?” 

Shit, you forgot to switch it back. 

“Yeah, sorry. I was chilly when I got home.” 

“It’s fine. Do you…want me to leave it like this? It’s set fairly high.” 

“Um…” Honestly, yes. “That’s okay. I’m good now, you can set it back.” 

“Alright.” 

You hear the ticks of the thermostat being turned down, and you grab a throw from across the back of the couch, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders. 

“Do you want some tea?” you ask him after a minute. “I’ve just made myself a cup.” 

“That’s okay, sweetheart, stay where you are.” Remus emerges from the bedroom in his own house clothes, looking painfully snuggly. He heads for the kitchen. “You left the honey out. Do you still need it?” 

You wince. “No, I’m alright.” 

When Remus rejoins you in the sitting room, you pretend to be busy with your book. He sits back in his spot, and you cozy up to him before he can try to kiss you again, your head on his shoulder. 

“Are you still cold?” he asks, adjusting the throw over you. 

You hum a lie. 

Remus seems satisfied with that. He tucks you under an arm and picks up his own book. 

You’re a few pages in when your nose starts to tickle. You try to breathe through it, hoping it will go away, but it’s no use. You’re hardly able to pinch your nose shut before a sneeze pitches out of you, violent and head-throbbing. 

“Bless you.” Remus rubs your back. “You okay?” 

You sniffle. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“No reason to be sorry, lovely girl,” he chides gently. You feel his lips touch down on your head. 

You soak up the comfort like warmth on a wintry day. Miraculously, Remus doesn’t question you any further, and eventually you lay your head back on his shoulder. You flip pages without truly reading them, your mind fuzzy and your body exhausted, until your eyes grow heavy and you forget to flip them at all. At some point, Remus’ head tilts so it’s resting atop yours. When he starts massaging the back of your neck, it feels so nice you don’t even really register it. 

“Dove,” he murmurs. 

You hum in pleased, half-asleep acknowledgement. 

“You need to stay home from work tomorrow, sweet girl.” 

You blink your eyes open slowly. Pick your head up off Remus’ shoulder, and look at him in confusion. “What?”

He looks back at you patiently. “Your fever’s gotten worse, and you’re contagious. It’s not good for you or anyone if you go in.” 

“But…” Your brow furrows. You feel like you’ve missed a chapter. “How did you know?” 

Remus gives you an amused look. “I see sick people all day long. You thought I wouldn’t notice?” You frown. He chuckles and cups your face in his hand, thumbing over your cheek consolingly. “You were clearing your throat all evening yesterday. But it didn’t seem bad yet, and you didn’t seem to want to tell me, so…” He shrugs. “But now it’s time to let me take care of you, okay?” 

You rub your lips together. You think you’re waiting for him to be angry with you, but your boyfriend seems only sympathetic. And a bit smug. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t wanna be another thing for you to deal with.” 

“Oh, hush.” Remus tsks, shifting so he can wrap his arms around you. “I like dealing with you, have I not been clear about that?” 

“You don’t want to throttle me because I’m another idiot who didn’t get the flu jab?” 

You feel the reverberations of his quiet chuckle in his chest. “First of all, I said I would want to throttle them. I’m a doctor, I can’t just be contemplating throttling my patients. And no, sweetheart.” He slips his hand from your shoulder down the length of your back, rubbing through your blanket. “I don’t think that about you. I wish you’d gotten it, but there’s nothing to be done now. You’re sick, and I only want to look after you.” 

The onslaught of tenderness melts you. You let your face slip down to his shoulder, nose pushing into his neck. “My head hurts,” you mumble. 

“Awe, dovey.” Remus brings his other hand to your nape, massaging the achy muscles there again. “Have you had paracetamol since you’ve been home?” 

You shake your head mutely. 

“I’ll get you some in a minute, then. And we can have soup for dinner, yeah?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You feel frighteningly teary. “Will you stay here for a while with me first, though? Please?”

Remus’ lips press softly to your forehead. “Sure, of course.” 

[aardelea]

How He Handles Jealousy

Thank you so much for the request for this headcanon! It turned out to be longer than I initially anticipated, but I hope you find it enjoyable to read. Happy reading!

Being fresh in a relationship often means confronting one's own insecurities. One of these is the question of whether one can fully trust their partner and how to deal with it when the partner themselves is plagued by the question of whether they are truly enough. So what about the ghouls: How do they handle this in both directions? In this scenario, we assume that you are in a relationship and that you, of course, never pursue any ill intentions when creating a situation that makes your loved one jealous, and vice versa. We are always talking about a healthy level of jealousy.

Jin

Jin does not strike you as a man who becomes jealous easily. He has rank, status, outrageously good looks, and charisma. Who would dare to even consider getting too close to his beloved? And what could lead him to think that you might have an interest in someone other than him? Exactly: nothing.

Nevertheless, even the king of Frostheim occasionally experiences a strange feeling in his chest when he sees you showing a little too much interest in another person. There's nothing wrong with playing it safe, right? He will be quite open about his jealousy, though he wouldn't label it as such. Instead, he will explicitly ask you what you have going on with the other person. Depending on your answer, he will either allow you to continue interacting with them undisturbed or he will ask you to keep your distance. If you disagree, he will accept it but will become noticeably clingy and unusually touchy in the presence of that person in the future.

Conversely, Jin cannot imagine that you could ever be jealous of anyone. Aside from the fact that you are his everything, which he always shows you in his own way, he considers you superior to all other people. How could you possibly think that anyone could measure up to you? Since he can't stand most other people anyway, he would never deliberately get too close to someone else.

He won't notice your jealousy unless you communicate it clearly. Initially, he will stare at you in disbelief and will need to process what you just said. Once he has absorbed the information, he will suddenly start laughing heartily. He'll begin to grin devilishly, cup your chin, and gently pull you a bit closer to his face. "Come to my room after the event tonight. I'll show you enough good reasons why you don't need to worry."

Tohma

Tohma is a true gentleman with far too good manners for you to ever suspect that he feels jealousy. However, in the early stages of your relationship, this feeling is anything but foreign to him, as your time together is limited, and he is careful to keep your relationship a secret for as long as possible. Who wouldn't feel negative emotions when they see the person they desire getting close to other people, even if it's just a fleeting touch of their hand?

Without the chains he has bound himself with by moving to Frostheim, he would certainly be the type to charmingly but firmly put any rivals in their place. Depending on how far the rival has gone with you, it could even be imaginable that he would elegantly beat him to a pulp in an alley. Otherwise, a public display of your connection through physical contact would suffice to remind the audacious guy who he’s messing with. However, in Frostheim, Tohma is forced to use different means. If your new clingy acquaintance suddenly starts keeping their distance from you, it will likely be because they received an anonymous and highly convincing threatening letter. Everyone has skeletons in their closets, and Tohma knows exactly how to find and leverage them.

Although he is rather distant, Tohma has a seductive way of conversing with others, so it's highly likely that one or two women may have cast an eye on him. Since you are suffering as much as he is from the secrecy of your relationship, you will, sooner or later, inevitably find yourself ensnared in the burning arms of jealousy.

Even if Tohma can empathize with your feelings because he knows them as well as you do, he will want to maintain the façade at all costs and will earnestly ask you to be patient and hold back just a little longer. Sooner or later, everything will fall into place, and you can be together whenever you want. But whatever happens, don't act too rashly, as Tohma's goals for his service to the Frost King will always take precedence. By letting you into his life, he is undoubtedly risking a lot, so cut him some slack if he can't change his public behavior for now. The silver lining is that you'll receive more messages asking you to bring him "special documents" to the vault room. Reviewing those together will always take a bit more time.

Luca

Luca sees you as an honorable person and won't easily entertain the thought that anyone could take you from him, unless it’s death itself. Some situations may seem strange to him in the early days of your relationship when he sees you getting close to other men, with whom you're building a tighter (albeit genuinely platonic) relationship. Even Luca is not immune to feeling a bit uneasy.

Assuming that everything must be as it should, he will swallow that uncomfortable feeling for a long time and won’t let on. Unfortunately, he will do this until it boils over, and his feelings overwhelm him. In the next situation he observes – even if it’s just lunch at Sho's food truck – he will come directly to you and confront you both. Since by that point you likely won't have known anything about Luca's emotional state (how could you?), you'll be utterly incredulous and shocked as you watch Luca throw all his pride overboard, take your hands in his, look deep into your eyes, and seriously ask whether you still love him and want to stay with him, or if you've decided to be happier with another man. The shame reflected on his face when you tell him he couldn't be more wrong will remain a topic of conversation on campus for a long time. He won't stop apologizing to both you and your friend, promising that such behavior won't happen again. It might be best to take the poor man along to your meetings so he feels better.

Luca is an old-fashioned gentleman, inherently friendly and courteous to everyone. Unfortunately, he can quickly lose sight of his surroundings when he believes he is doing the right thing, leading to situations that may push others too far and evoke jealousy without him ever intending to.

If you react to your jealousy with a corresponding mood, Luca will quickly notice and address it. However, he won't pick up on any subtle hints you might drop that aren't blatantly obvious, as he won’t be aware of any inappropriate behavior. Once he knows how you feel, he won't stop apologizing and will be overwhelmed with guilt, culminating in showering you with attention and gifts. He promises you that he won't make such a mistake again, and he means it.

Kaito

Unfortunately, Kaito suffers from extremely low self-esteem, which also reflects the intensity of his feelings. Any tiny bit of attention you give to another man will immediately be interpreted as a sign of disinterest in him. At first, he will try to calm himself down. "Come on, Kaito, that's perfectly normal! Everyone has friends of the opposite sex! It doesn't mean anything." Despite all his efforts, his insecurity will eventually overwhelm him, and he will try to speak to you privately during a quiet moment, trying to subtly inquire about the person he is feeling envious of. "What exactly do you two discuss all the time?" "Where do you know him from?" "Does he have a girlfriend?"

Depending on the nature of your response, it will either calm him down for a while or bring him to tears. However, he would never bring it up in public. His crying will, at worst, only be noticed by his neighbors (who probably aren't surprised). Have some compassion for the poor man. He is so happy with you and still can't fathom that an angel like you chose him as her boyfriend of all people. Him, who feels like he has nothing to offer. Thus, the fear of losing you becomes even more pronounced because you might realize that he is really worthless. This, of course, is not true, and you've likely told him enough times. However, words alone won’t help him in this case. Involve him in your outings with friends and communicate or show publicly that Kaito is your boyfriend. Besides making him the happiest person on the planet, it will help calm him down.

If you, on the other hand, become jealous of someone Kaito is interacting with, you can assume that he won't pick up on it at first. After all, he wouldn’t know what there is to be jealous about. Sure, Kaito didn’t pass up any chance to flirt with other women on campus before your relationship, but that was, as stated, before you got together. Meanwhile, he would never risk making you feel unloved. If you initially don’t communicate your jealousy directly and react with a worse mood instead, the last thing he will suspect is jealousy.

So if you can’t shake off those feelings, communicate them. He may respond with confusion and even shock, but secretly he will be flattered. This will be an opportunity for you to boost his self-esteem, which can only benefit Kaito. He will cease any activities that lead to your jealousy and will make it clear in public (as long as you both agree on how to appear in public) that it is only you by his side.

Alan

It’s relatively hard to imagine Alan becoming quickly jealous in the classic sense. Since he’s already unsure in the early stages of the relationship whether it was the right decision to enter it on his part, he wouldn’t really hold it against you if you got closer to other people. Not that you yourself would ever have such thoughts, but Alan might interpret even the slightest closeness to someone else as you reconsidering your relationship with him.

Just because he won’t actively bring it up doesn’t mean he won’t feel uncomfortable when he sees you (in his view) getting too familiar with another person. When his chest tightens, and he feels the urge to step in, hold you in his arms, and never let go to ensure that you belong to him alone, he would never act on that feeling.

On the other hand, he would never assume that you might be jealous of another woman he interacts with. Let alone that he would ever give another woman enough attention for you to even consider it. So, if you want to clear things up, you’ll need to bring it up directly with him.

Knowing that you're jealous would simply break his heart, and he would wonder where he went wrong. Did he give you the impression that you’ve become unimportant to him? Did he not give you enough attention? Did he actually get too close to someone else? He would apologize a thousand times and reassure you that you are his everything and that there’s really nothing to worry about. He would avoid the other person as much as possible from then on, or at least behave much more distantly. He would never want to give the wrong impression or hurt you in any way.

Sho

Sho is a very easy-going and uncomplicated guy when it comes to relationships. He gives you all the freedom in the world and fully trusts that you’d never let anyone cross the line. The only thing that could trigger jealousy in Sho is his highly developed protective instinct. Thanks to his friendship with Leo and their excessive clubbing, he knows the dark sides of human nature all too well, and he wants to shield you from them at all costs.

So, if he notices another guy leaving his hand on your shoulder for just a millisecond too long, the good man’s protective instinct kicks in, and he feels the need to set that guy straight by joining in and adding some physical contact with you. He will throw the rival a few unmistakable looks. Once the boundaries are established and Sho has made it clear with his body language what happens if the guy gets too close to his beloved girlfriend, Sho will disappear just as quickly as he came. Have fun with the rest of your evening!

In the case that you are jealous when Sho interacts with certain people, he’ll notice it from your body language right away, unless you outright tell him. Sho is, after all, an extremely attentive and surprisingly empathetic man who doesn’t miss a single one of your glances. Even though he would expect the same trust from you that he gives you, he doesn’t react with disappointment or rejection, but with loving teasing. “What, seriously, you’re jealous of her?” He simply finds your jealousy too cute to be genuinely angry.

Sho also belongs to the type of guy who would take you along to meetings with the respective person to make things more obvious and help ease your insecurities. From now on, he’ll also be a little more careful to ensure that his actions toward others don’t provoke any negative feelings in you.

Leo

Leo would never admit that he’s jealous of someone who (in his eyes) is getting too close to you. Absolutely not. If he feels anything, it’s anger because you’re risking being seen together, and his followers might think there’s trouble between you and the influencer. Yeah, that’s definitely the only thing that comes to his mind when he sees you with a supposed rival. It’s the same when he sees overly nice comments from men about you under his videos and promptly deletes them. Don’t let it go to your head or get any silly ideas.

So, don’t think too much of it when he grumbles at you to be careful how you interact with other guys because it could give off the wrong impression. Don’t read too much into it either if he starts marking his territory when you don’t listen and still let that boring guy (allegedly) get too close. For Leo, the smallest form of physical contact is enough to trigger his jealous attentive radar. He’ll then quickly start pushing himself between you two, showering you with physical (and surely inappropriate for the situation) attention. Additionally, in his usual cruel style, he’ll subtly insult and try to humiliate his supposed rival. If you’re in a relationship with Leo, you’ll have to love him very much to deal with his behavior.

In Leo’s eyes, it’s obviously nooooo problem at all if other girls get too close to him. After all, he’s a popular influencer and can’t neglect his fans. Why would you even think he’d start anything with one of those airheads? If you do somehow let your jealousy show, you can expect to be met with plenty of scorn and mockery on his part.

Leo won’t be able to stop laughing and will call you “stupid” in the most creative ways more than once. Of course, he’ll never show outwardly how cute he actually finds your jealousy. And he certainly won’t change his behavior toward his fans. Bad for business.

However, he’ll now start including you in his videos much more frequently to make you feel better. It’s definitely not because he enjoys showing off his cute girlfriend to everyone and bragging about you. Now, he just has a really good excuse to hide his true intentions behind.

Haru

Haru is usually too busy to worry about something like jealousy. Just like you, he also has his tasks and his daily life, which you can arrange however you like, with whomever you like. Things only get critical if you start spending time with someone else (for whatever reason) that’s meant for the both of you. The first couple of times, he would take it as normal, but by the third rejection, his attention would be caught. Do you have someone else?

Haru isn’t really the type to want to take away anyone’s freedom. And certainly not yours. But sooner or later, he won’t be able to bear that uncomfortable, gnawing feeling in his chest anymore and will ask you, more or less casually, what’s going on. Are you lacking something? Did he do something wrong? If you ask him more specifically why he’s asking, he’ll calmly explain that he finds it strange that you have less time for him and that he’s worried you’re dissatisfied with him. Since you certainly aren’t (and if you are, please bring it up directly – communication is everything in a relationship!), you’ll reassure him that there’s a very good reason for your absence and he doesn’t need to worry. He’ll accept any explanation you give with relief because he fully trusts you.

In the reverse situation, Haru will quickly sense your discomfort if you somehow develop jealousy. He may not invest as much time in a relationship as others, but the time he does take for the both of you is used to its fullest. As a result, he gets to know you very well, very quickly, and senses right away when something is wrong. He’ll immediately ask you about it and want to know exactly what’s bothering you.

If it’s his light flirting with female guests at the Safari Park, he’ll do his best to cut it out, even though it’s completely meaningless to him. However, he won’t always succeed entirely because it’s just part of his nature, so please don’t hold it against him too much. Whatever else has triggered your jealousy, he’ll try to stop doing it from now on, as long as it’s within his control (some circumstances just don’t allow certain behaviors to change). At the same time, he’ll encourage you to have a bit more self-confidence and stop doubting his feelings for you because they’re more than genuine. To be sure, though, he’ll conspicuously and practically tell everyone just how fantastic his girlfriend is. Absolutely everyone. In every situation. Ren will get tired of hearing it. Towa, on the other hand, will love it. Eventually, everyone on campus will know that you are the great love of the ranger. You’ll also soon read this fact on the new brochures for the Safari Park. Still have doubts?

Towa

Once you enter a relationship with Towa, you are completely devoted to him. You are his dandelion, and he is your Prince Charming. Your love is pure and true, making it unthinkable for anyone to come between you. While Towa wouldn’t dream of restricting your time with friends, he won’t tolerate anyone who seems to have more than friendship on their mind.

Towa feels his emotions intensely and is quickly overwhelmed by jealousy once it arises. You'll notice his mood shift instantly—where sunshine was, storm clouds now linger when you and a friend are too close. He’ll wait for you to approach him, but if you bring it up, his anger will flare. Why would you let anyone come so close? Explanations won’t suffice here, and actions must follow to calm him. A little more physical distance between you and your friend will be necessary from now on. Towa dreams of a fairytale romance with his soulmate, and that includes avoiding any outward appearances that could be misunderstood.

On the flip side, it’s rare for Towa to get close to someone else, as he tends to keep people at a distance. Besides, it’s almost unthinkable for him to give much attention to anyone other than his beloved dandelion. His love for you is deep and genuine.

Should the impossible happen, and you feel jealous of someone else, Towa would drop that person in a heartbeat. Everyone besides you (and maybe Haru) is practically irrelevant to him. He’ll have no problem acting in a way that reassures you. “You’re being silly, dandelion. You’re the most beautiful flower of them all!”

Ren

Poor guy. Wasn’t it painful enough for him to realize his feelings for you and act on them? Now he must also admit that you mean so much to him that even the thought of you leaving him for some brainless dullard drives him insane? Even though you likely wouldn’t give him such reason to worry, the thought is hard to avoid. Ren has healthy self-confidence, but at the beginning of your relationship, he can’t shake the fear that you might be one of those girls who’d ditch him for a macho guy at the first chance.

Ren’s jealousy is noticeable by how harshly he insults his supposed rival. “Why are you hanging out with a guy who looks like he sleeps at the gorilla enclosure?” or “Are you sure you’re actually texting with him and not an AI? No way that guy learned how to write.” These are just some of the quips you’ll hear. It won’t take much to figure out how Ren is feeling. He wouldn’t ask to join you at these meetups or accompany you if you asked. Nor would he ever demand you stop seeing this person; it’s still your life, after all. However, showering him with extra affection won’t hurt, and though it won’t make his mood improve immediately, he’ll deeply enjoy your attention. He knows he has to handle his feelings himself, and with time, he will.

You’re unlikely to feel jealous of anyone in Ren’s life, as he tends to avoid most people. If anything, you might get jealous of an online acquaintance he chats with often. Should you bring it up, he’ll likely be annoyed since he can’t comprehend how someone can feel threatened by a person who isn’t physically present.

He’s not the type to change his behavior just because you’re uncomfortable. He expects the same freedom he gives you. However, he’ll (grudgingly and indirectly) assure you that you never need to worry about him being interested in anyone else. After all, you’re his fellow inmate in the prison called Darkwick, and no one could replace you.

Romeo

Romeo is a territorial type who hates when someone tries to intrude on his kingdom. It’s not pure jealousy driving him to chase off his so-called rival but more so his outrage at someone daring to approach what belongs to him (yes, you belong to him).

However, how he reacts depends heavily on who you’re spending time with. If you’re hanging out with Kaito, Romeo won’t care much since he doesn’t see him as a threat. But if your “rival” is more elegant and even remotely comparable to Romeo’s beauty, things get dangerous. First, he’ll start appearing around you more often, publicly wrapping his arms around you and giving you tender kisses on the cheek. While you’re still trying to figure out what’s happening, he’ll brush your flushed cheek and whisper in your ear about how stunning you look today, all while shooting a triumphant glance at his rival. Not only does he publicly claim you, but he also secures a romantic interlude in his office—unless, of course, you can resist a jealous Romeo. This scenario could repeat endlessly, but it wouldn’t be wise to test Romeo’s patience. One day, your rival might mysteriously disappear. Strange how things happen…

Conversely, Romeo expects you to have enough self-confidence to not let such a petty feeling as jealousy control you (easy for him to say). There will likely be plenty of occasions to make even the most confident person sweat with anxiety. After all, Romeo is incredibly attractive and knows how to use his charm to get what he wants. Who wouldn’t be tempted?

If you can’t hold back and express your discomfort over his behavior with someone else, you’ll initially be met with disbelief and disappointment. Did he really choose a partner so insecure that she thinks the infallible Romeo would ever be in a relationship with someone replaceable? Nonsense. His words might make you feel like he’s dismissing your feelings, telling you to pull yourself together, but his actions will tell a different story. From then on, he’ll bring you along to meetings with that person, showing you subtle yet unmistakable affection for everyone to see.

Taiga

It won’t be easy to provoke jealousy in Taiga. Not because he’s incapable of such feelings or because he doesn’t care about you, but simply because he hardly takes his eyes off you. He’s quite the clingy type and takes you practically everywhere he goes. Where would be the time to connect with someone else well enough for Taiga to have any wrong ideas?

However, if you do have enough time to become close friends with another guy, such that you have some (purely platonic) physical contact (a hand on the shoulder is enough), Taiga will quickly become dangerously jealous. Who dares to touch his beloved lucky charm?! This friendship won’t last long, as Taiga will swiftly come up to you, casually drape an arm around you, and with the other, draw his weapon and shamelessly aim it at his rival. “I think it’s time for you to leave.” Even though he says this calmly with a smile on his lips, hardly anyone will miss the seriousness of the situation. He’ll tolerate your complaints about his behavior and wave them off with boredom. But he will do it again if anyone approaches you in that way. His jealousy only flares up with charismatic types; the only exception might be Romeo. With people he perceives as losers, you can remain friends as you like. Don’t look at him like that. You chose this relationship for yourself.

In the very unlikely event that you become jealous of someone in Taiga’s vicinity, an (extremely uncomfortable) solution will also quickly present itself. Taiga will notice your jealousy if you react to him in a particular mood. When you tell him the reason, he will laugh loudly and pat your head, visibly amused as he asks if he means so much to you that you become jealous so quickly.

“No reason to worry, kitty cat, look.” Without hesitation, he pulls out a weapon and aims it at the person who triggered your jealousy. You should really react quickly at this point to prevent something worse. He truly doesn’t care about anything except you, and unfortunately, he has no qualms about showing that.

Ritsu

To provoke someone like Ritsu into such a base feeling as jealousy would take quite a lot. He is an extremely pragmatic man who has his own way of handling feelings, which he keeps quite well under control. Moreover, as his chosen one, you must possess certain qualities to even be considered at his side, including loyalty.

So why should Mr. Shinjo even worry that you might fall for another man? After all, you entered into a relationship, and that comes with rules—like an invisible contract that you both signed with a kiss. If he has doubts about you, they are likely to be well-founded—like obviously more than purely platonic physical contact with another man or blatantly ignoring Ritsu in the presence of certain people. In this case, he will immediately address it and ask for clarification of the matter.

Conversely, it will also be difficult for him to develop jealousy towards someone Ritsu associates with. You know his professional nature too well. So unless you yourself tend toward strong jealousy over trivial matters, you will only be overwhelmed by your feelings in absolutely justified situations.

Ritsu is a good observer and will quickly notice if something is wrong with you. He will directly address it to inquire about the reason for your mood swing. However, he would be a bit disappointed if you didn’t bring it up yourself. He will address the problem directly and won’t waste time on the fact that he cannot comprehend your feelings, because the fact is, you have them, and he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Whatever behavior led to your jealousy: he will cease it immediately.

Haku

Haku is not someone who becomes jealous easily, which is why he grants you a lot of freedom. You would have to give someone an unusually large amount of attention to evoke that feeling in Haku. However, he isn’t the type of person to directly express his discomfort. Instead, he will endure the feeling and the sight of the two of you for quite some time until he can no longer help but take action.

Nevertheless, he won’t directly address it; instead, he will take care of the problem himself, activating his hunting instinct and increasingly joining you whenever you’re with that particular someone. In doing so, he will try to more or less subtly solidify his status as your boyfriend. A spontaneous kiss on the cheek, his arm around your waist throughout the meeting, the casual question of when he can expect you tonight… Yep, he’ll manage his emotional chaos on his own. So you can sit back and enjoy this extra attention.

If you are the one who becomes jealous (which is more than understandable considering Haku’s naturally flirtatious nature), he will quickly notice regardless of how you communicate. Not that he would want to hurt you intentionally, but he will likely find your jealousy quite adorable and will playfully tease you about it. He certainly won’t pass up the chance to annoy you. “Watch out, I’m meeting a certain lady today who is quite pretty, but she can’t even begin to compare to the princess in front of me,” or “I don’t know if you’re ready for this, but I’m seeing that one person today to whom I recently told her hairstyle looks good. But don’t worry: I won’t take her home.” He’ll ride that horse for a long time.

But rest assured, Haku only wants what’s best for you. So to take away any uncertainty, he will present you even more obviously as his beloved girlfriend in public. He won’t suggest it himself, but if you express a desire to meet those individuals who triggered your jealousy, he won’t refuse. After all, he has nothing to hide. However, you’d need to be pretty thick-skinned to endure that meeting, during which Haku will naturally be all over you the whole time to show you that you needn’t worry about anyone taking his flirting seriously, as everyone should already know he’s taken.

Subaru

The former Kabuki actor suffers from many insecurities regarding himself. This is likely connected to his somewhat impractical ability that can activate without his active involvement, showing him things that were never meant for his eyes. Despite all circumstances, he has entered into a relationship with you and, given the physical contact you’ve likely had, knows pretty much everything about you there is to know. This includes knowing your sincere feelings for him.

Because of this, there’s hardly any reason for Subaru to develop jealousy. You have your friends and handle them your way. That’s absolutely okay for him. The only exception might be strangers who have just appeared and are still difficult for Subaru to assess. In this case, especially charismatic individuals who are also very friendly toward you could provoke some jealousy in him, but he would never show it openly or address it, because, as mentioned: he knows you and trusts you completely. However, you might notice a change in his suddenly much more self-confident and assertive demeanor towards the strangers, indicating what has triggered this character change.

Conversely, Subaru will notice even the slightest change in your mood or behavior and interpret it correctly, so your jealousy won’t remain hidden for long. Being who he is, he won’t stop apologizing, sincerely assuring you that he never intended to evoke those feelings in you. The situation is visibly uncomfortable for him.

Since he takes your feelings very seriously and feels them himself through your physical contact, he will take all necessary measures to nip them in the bud. This includes, of course, assuring you thousands of times that you never have to worry. He’s far too polite to simply dismiss other people, but he will still behave a bit more distantly towards those individuals.

Zenji

Given his circumstances, Zenji was likely quite difficult to convince to enter into a relationship, so he probably gives you a lot of freedom in how you interact with others—even though he, too, can reach his limits. However, he would never expect you to completely devote yourself to him when you still have your whole life ahead of you.

When it comes to the feeling of jealousy in general, he knows it all too well, as he practically feels that biting sensation towards anyone who has the privilege of being physically close to you and feeling your warmth. However, assume that he would never communicate this feeling under any circumstances. He loves you too much and is too at peace with himself and his situation.

We can probably skip the reverse scenario, as besides a few chosen ones, no one can see him anyway. But if Zenji was already that kind of person in life, it stands to reason that someone with the right disposition could quickly become envious of his admirers, with whom he interacts very openly and invitingly, even if he never has any ulterior motives.

Zenji is the definition of a pure soul. If for any reason you were ever in a situation where you became jealous of someone who interacted with him, he would notice—whether you show it or not. Without ever bringing it up himself, he would simply cease the behavior that led to your jealousy. For you should never even entertain the idea that anyone could be more interesting to him than his dearly beloved muse.

Rui

Since Rui is someone who could easily steal a girlfriend from one or two guys, he is even more wary of guys of his caliber. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you per se, but he just knows how quickly someone can be tempted when the right buttons are pressed. To make matters worse, Rui isn’t really able to defend himself. He can’t just take you in his arms to present you as his or stand up to a guy to show dominance. Your relationship is, at best, only known through hearsay. Of course, he will feel unbearably burning jealousy when he sees someone who can touch you so easily while Rui stays in the background. And this type of jealousy is a thousand times worse than the one he literally feels toward anyone who has the privilege of touching you.

In a relationship with Rui, you should be quite careful about how you interact with other men, as Rui finds himself in an extremely vulnerable position that has been exacerbated by your relationship since he suddenly has even more to lose than before. Since he already feels guilty about being in a relationship with you when you should ideally be with someone who can offer you more than he can, he will never openly reveal his feelings to spare you what he considers an inappropriate guilty conscience. Nevertheless, his jealousy will inevitably reflect in his mood and won’t escape your trained eye. When confronted about it, Rui will admit his jealousy but assure you that you don’t need to worry about him because you haven’t done anything wrong, and it’s solely his problem. At this point, it doesn’t really matter how you react, whether you change your behavior towards the person involved or not. Unfortunately, the damage is already done for Rui.

On the other hand, Rui makes a tremendous effort not to give the impression that he’s still acting the same way as before your relationship or even before his curse. However, flirting is just too natural for him, so he can’t always suppress it, even if he doesn’t really think anything of it. He will quickly realize if he has crossed a line in your eyes and immediately backtrack. He would never hold your jealousy against you, as he’s self-aware enough to admit that it is absolutely justified, even if he would never go too far.

As far as it’s in his power, he will unobtrusively try to communicate to every woman that he is more than happily taken. So, never be too angry with him. He really is doing his best.

Ed

The elegant vampire is not so easily made jealous, especially since you certainly know what kind of dangerous man you’ve gotten yourself into. He’s also a bit too old and experienced to be overwhelmed by such feelings. However, he absolutely will not tolerate attention-seeking and obvious rivals who come a little too close to you.

Let’s be honest: Ed is a drama queen and has no sense of shame. So brace yourself for a performance worthy of an Oscar. “So you want to abandon your poor, sick lover? You would just leave me to certain death?” While speaking in a dramatic tone, he physically pushes his rival away with his back and throws himself around your neck after letting out some truly serious coughs. “Haven’t I given you all my attention and love? Haven’t I satisfied you to your utmost delight every single time? What have I done wrong?” Before you can even sink into the ground out of embarrassment, he begins passionately kissing along your neck until he eventually reaches your mouth. If you don’t push him away, he will continue this act until you both find yourselves in a rather compromising position in front of everyone present, while he gains access to your mouth with his tongue. If that’s not one of your kinks, you should definitely reject him and dramatically declare that he is your great love and has absolutely nothing to fear. He will only be satisfied once you’ve embarrassed yourselves so thoroughly in front of everyone that no one would ever think of getting too close to his prey girlfriend again. But if we’re being more honest, that’s definitely better than the scenario where your supposed rival suddenly disappears from campus and is never seen again.

Conversely, Ed loves to flirt for his life. It’s in his nature to wrap his prey around his finger so they willingly give him whatever he desires. Fortunately, his interest in other people is quite limited, so you will rarely see him interacting with anyone else besides Lyca and Rui. However, if situations do arise that provoke jealousy in you, Ed will definitely notice it immediately. And he will exploit it.

He loves you fiercely. You can be assured of this when he enters into a relationship with you. However, he remains a man who loves exaggeration. So, if he observes changes in your behavior that indicate jealousy, he will ride that feeling until he pushes your patience to the limit, leaving you with no choice but to explode and confront him. Just as in the case where you “made him jealous,” he will fairly pull the reverse show and swear his sincere love to you in the most emotional way you can imagine, immediately sending the lady (?) he was just with to hell. He will then hope that you will throw yourself around him, just the way he loves it.

Lyca

For Lyca, the concept of a relationship is quite new, and he must first learn to cope with the new emotions that have opened up to him since then and learn to assign individual feelings. This also includes jealousy. However, it is unlikely that it will quickly become a part of his portfolio, as physical contact is something natural for him and merely a sign of affection. He must first understand that this affection can indeed go deeper before he begins to worry about other guys.

Once he learns what distinguishes a relationship from a good friendship, he will indeed feel that uncomfortable tightness in his chest when he sees you with someone (like Ed) who develops in his new definition of appropriateness. Instead of observing or addressing you about it, he will impulsively take action and confront your perceived rival. “Hey, why are you so close to her? She already has a boyfriend, got it?!” Despite Lyca’s heated mood, the situation can quickly and calmly be resolved, as he will listen to your explanations and apologize if he has indeed overreacted (which is quite likely at the beginning). After all, he is still learning, and everything takes time.

In the unlikely event that Lyca interacts with girls that provoke jealousy in you, he will only acknowledge your feelings if you openly communicate them. A changed mood will otherwise simply be dismissed as “women are just unnecessarily complicated.”

“Huh, why are you thinking such silly thoughts? Look.” He will immediately wrap his arms around you and give you an unexpected kiss on the mouth. “Do you think I would want to do that with someone else?” However, Lyca takes your feelings seriously enough that he will adjust his behavior toward the individuals involved in the future. Whatever has caused your jealousy will now be stamped as “inappropriate in a relationship.”

Yuri

The great and exalted Yuri Isami would never feel such a base emotion as jealousy. Where do you think you’re going?! It’s not as if he has no experience with relationships and therefore cannot assess what behavior toward others is normal and what isn’t. No, no. He has much more important things to do than pay attention to your leisure activities. As if he would care how close that one guy gets to you, how casually he places his hand on your shoulder, or the way he looks at you. As if Yuri would even give a thought to whether he’s coming so close that the guy can smell your delicately fragrant perfume, which Yuri loves, or whether you give that guy the same charming smile you give Yuri every time you finally see each other again after a long, work-filled day. Really. Completely beneath his dignity.

So if he asks you who that dishonorable worm is that you’ve been spending so much time with lately or about whom you’ve mentioned one too many times in Yuri’s eyes, he only wants to comply with your alleged request that you should get to know each other better and participate more in each other’s lives. Even the biggest idiot on the planet wouldn’t miss the intentions behind his questions, and it’s certainly incredibly tempting to mention that he is definitely the epitome of the jealous boyfriend. But do you really want to do that to this proud man? He would deny it anyway, and dwelling on his obvious questions would probably only lead to a bad atmosphere. Just assure him that the worm is just a worm you like and that no one can compare to your knight in shining armor. But go ahead and enjoy the feeling of having completely captured this man’s heart.

If you ever feel jealous of someone Yuri is involved with, you will need to communicate it directly, as Yuri won’t quickly come to the idea that you are jealous, even if you react to him with obviously poor mood and irritation.

Even though he will feel very flattered when you confess that you are jealous, he unfortunately belongs to the type of person whose self-confidence should not be stroked too much. He will give you a lecture on how silly it is to give in to such a lowly feeling as jealousy and remind you that there is no reason for it. However, if you insist on it, he will pay more attention in the future to how he interacts with other people so that it doesn’t provoke negative feelings in you. The positive side of the story is that Yuri will then give you even more attention and become even more romantic. Because in truth, despite all his strictness, he would never want you to feel bad.

Jiro

Many of the feelings that develop in Jiro during your relationship are completely new to him. The fluttering in his chest when you’re together, the goosebumps your touch gives him, the need to feel your whole body against his skin, and also this new discomfort he feels when he sees you with another man. Generally, he doesn't mind if you spend a lot of time with other men, so it takes quite a bit of physical closeness to evoke feelings of jealousy in him.

Jiro is a pragmatic and very straightforward man. When he observes a situation where you get close enough to another person to provoke jealousy in him, he will first carefully watch both you and himself until he is sure that he can't dispel his insecurity on his own. So be prepared for questions later like, “Is there a special reason why you’re so close?”, “Am I no longer evoking romantic feelings in you, so you've reconsidered our relationship?”, “Is it normal to have multiple lovers?”

Since Jiro is quite an attractive man who works with numerous patients, it won’t be uncommon for him to interact closely with them, and some examinations may take a while. He will never think anything of it and will never come to the idea that you might think something of it either. It’s his job to take care of his patients. Nothing more, nothing less.

The only exception might be if he has experienced jealousy himself beforehand. In that case, he will have taken note of the trigger and will make sure to avoid giving you the same feeling. Therefore, he will closely observe you in this scenario, and at the slightest hint that you might be jealous, he will come to you and directly remind you that you don’t need to worry. Even if you’re not actually jealous. If he hasn't experienced jealousy yet, you will need to directly address your feelings with him and probably explain them in detail so that he can understand, which will likely result in a very awkward conversation for you. And no, he won’t really be able to understand it, as he will never see a reason for jealousy from his perspective. Nevertheless, he will then try to avoid the behavior that triggers those uncomfortable feelings in you.

[starry-boyz]

svsss modern au where shen jiu becomes self aware and realizes that they’re in a romcom world.

it’s not a slow realization, more of a sudden awareness and then suddenly everything around him made so much more sense. all of the kissing couples he’s had to walk around on rainy days, the dramatic declarations of love that would occur in the office, the sheer number of bumbling, new interns who would trip and drop documents at the feet of important senior workers, etc.

shen jiu has a crisis about this for approximately two days before slapping himself and being reassured about the fact that he is, in fact, not romcom couple potential. he’s what some have called “a bitch from hell” and he is proud of it. his family is incredibly wealthy yet thankfully completely clean in all the ways that matter. he will be safe from the romcom machinations that his world runs on even if it tries to drag him in kicking and screaming. and he went on with his days content with his distance from it all.

he did not account for shen yuan—his dearest, idiot twin brother.

he should have accounted for shen yuan.

because his brother, lovable despite how much of a bumbling, foul mouthed fool he was, was the perfect material for a modern day romcom. and perhaps shen jiu was an even bigger fool for not realizing it until danger was imminent.

and then liu qingge, famous mma fighter, his nemesis, meets shen yuan and shen jiu just barely holds himself back from ripping the man’s throat out with a combination of his teeth and sheer force of will when the brute’s face erupts into a red flush the moment he makes eye contact with shen yuan.

the shrill, inhuman noise that escaped his mouth in that moment was enough of a distraction for him to be able to grab shen yuan and drag them both to the relative safety of his apartment.

it’s then that shen jiu swears to never let shen yuan get dragged into the machinations of this romcom world, especially not when it wants to bind his twin to that idiot of a brute known as liu qingge.

it really is a shame that the world never listened to shen jiu’s wishes.

because no matter how much he tries to keep the two of them apart from one another, liu qingge somehow ends up meeting with shen yuan at least once a day. it’s maddening enough to drive shen jiu into a stress induced tea-brewing session that shen yuan said tasted bitter—border-lining on burnt.

it’s only when shen yuan starts blushing around the brute as well that shen jiu decides that extreme measures needs to be taken. it comes in the form of the trio of high schoolers that shen yuan has been tutoring: ming fan, ning yingying, and luo binghe.

after much persuasion and bribery (mostly bribery) the three agreed to join him in his mission to keep the two apart.

only, any attempt at foiling the budding romance only seems to spur it on more??? the world seems to be twisting their attempted sabotage into a romantic gesture/opportunity???

putting random, disgusting ingredients in the coffee that shen yuan made for liu qingge? shen yuan trips, spills it on the brute’s shirt, and it leads to them going on a semi-date where shen yuan buys the brute a new shirt.

replacing the rare book that liu qingge was going to gift to shen yuan with fifty shades of grey? shen yuan was thrilled to be able to tear it apart with words and later on with an actual fucking sword that liu qingge just had apparently.

the trio of minions he’s recruited had apparently had their own romcom situations happening in the background with him being none the wiser. (luo binghe attached himself ferociously to an older student named gongyi xiao, ming fan found himself in a rivals-to-lovers situation with liu qingge’s apprentice yang yixuan, and ning yingying found herself being seduced by liu qingge’s sister because of course she did)

shen jiu feels like he’s going insane.

and amongst all of this insanity, it genuinely threw shen jiu for a loop when he found his heart begin to thump when he reunites with his childhood friend, yue qi, who went from a cute and dependable older friend to a handsome man and oh fuck—

[worlds-we-write]

A Little Distraction

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: Cleaning day was supposed to be productive… until Joel caught sight of you in yoga pants. Turns out, chores can wait when Joel gets possessive.

tags: Joel x reader, Domestic setting, rough sex, dirty talk, teasing/brat taming, possessive Joel, wall sex, praise + possessiveness, soft aftercare

My Masterlist

The soft hum of the vacuum was the only thing filling the room, aside from the occasional shuffle of your feet as you worked your way down the hallway.

Joel had been fixing the door hinge in the bedroom earlier, but now, from the corner of your eye, you could see him lingering in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching you. You didn’t think much of it at first — he always did this when you got into your cleaning moods. He liked seeing you comfortable, settled. Safe.

But this time, something about the way he looked at you was different.

You bent down to grab something from the floor, adjusting the waistband of your yoga pants when you stood back up, and that’s when you felt it — his eyes glued to you. Heavy. Intent.

“You gonna help, or just stand there starin’?” you teased over your shoulder, a playful lilt in your voice.

Joel’s lips twitched into a half-smirk, though there was something a little darker underneath. “Ain’t starin’,” he muttered, voice gravelly and far too casual to be honest.

You rolled your eyes and continued, purposefully swaying your hips a little as you moved into the living room, fully aware now of the game that had begun.

Joel followed, slowly, like a predator stalking prey. He leaned against the doorway, watching as you bent over to pick up some stray clothes and fluff the couch pillows.

“You wear those on purpose, huh?”

You looked back at him innocently, feigning ignorance. “What, these?” You gave your hips an exaggerated little wiggle. “They’re just comfy, Joel.”

His jaw flexed as he pushed off the doorframe, closing the distance between you in a few slow, measured steps.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart,” he warned softly, hands finding your waist and gripping it tightly. “Ain’t fair, walkin’ around the house like that when you know damn well what it does to me.”

You grinned, feeling the heat rise between you both. “Thought you had things to do,” you whispered.

Joel’s nose brushed along your jaw as he murmured, low and rough, “Got more important things now.”

You barely had time to react before Joel’s hands tightened on your hips and spun you around, pressing your back firmly against the wall behind you. The sudden shift knocked a soft gasp from your lips, but Joel’s mouth was already on yours before you could say a word.

His kiss was all heat and frustration — needy, rough, claiming. You whimpered into it as he bit down gently on your bottom lip, tugging until you melted against him, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt for balance.

“Joel,” you breathed when he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes wild and dark with hunger.

“Nah, baby. You started this,” he rasped, one hand sliding down to cup your ass through the thin fabric of your leggings. His fingers squeezed possessively, making you shudder. “Walkin’ around here in these fuckin’ things, bendin’ over everywhere, swayin’ that pretty little ass like that… and now you’re gonna play all innocent on me?”

You felt heat pool between your legs as his words settled deep, making your thighs clench together instinctively.

Joel’s lips curled into something between a grin and a sneer when he noticed. “Yeah… that’s what I thought.”

Without warning, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your yoga pants and panties at once and yanked them down roughly to mid-thigh, exposing you completely. You gasped, your head falling back against the wall as the cool air kissed your now bare skin.

“Joel—”

“Shh,” he growled softly, kneeling slightly to spread your legs apart with his hands on your inner thighs, firm and possessive. “Gonna give me this now. Been thinkin’ ‘bout it all fuckin’ day. Can’t wait.”

His mouth descended between your legs before you could catch your breath.

You cried out softly when his tongue licked a slow, greedy stripe up your slit, swirling and teasing before focusing right on your clit. Joel groaned as he tasted you, the vibrations sending jolts straight to your core.

“Fuckin’ soaked already,” he muttered, voice muffled as he lapped and sucked like a man starved. “Knew you were actin’ like a brat for a reason.”

Your legs trembled, hips bucking slightly against his face as pleasure quickly overtook you. Joel’s hands held you firmly in place, spreading you wide while he devoured you mercilessly.

“Joel, please—”

He pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening, dark eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that made your knees weak.

“Turn around,” he ordered roughly, standing back up and pressing his body flush to yours. You obeyed on instinct, turning to face the wall, your cheek pressed against the cool surface while Joel guided you to arch your back for him.

His hand slid between your legs again, fingers gliding through your wetness before he groaned low and lined himself up behind you.

“Y’sure you want this right here, baby?” he teased darkly, voice strained with how badly he wanted you. “Can fuck you right on this wall. Won’t even make it to the damn bed.”

“Yes,” you gasped desperately, rocking back against him, needing more.

That was all he needed to hear.

Joel pushed into you slowly but firmly, groaning deep in his chest as he stretched you open.

“Oh fuck—Joel—”

“That’s it, take it,” he praised darkly, gripping your hips tightly as he bottomed out. He paused for a second, breathing heavily against the back of your neck, then started thrusting deep and slow at first — dragging out every inch.

It didn’t stay slow for long. Joel’s patience snapped completely as he picked up the pace, slamming into you with hard, brutal thrusts that made the wall creak under your hands.

“You feel that, baby? S’what happens when you tease me all fuckin’ day,” he grunted, hips snapping against your ass. “Gonna fuck you dumb right here so you remember next time.”

Your moans filled the room, incoherent now as Joel fucked you rough and fast, one hand wrapped firmly in your hair to keep you in place while the other squeezed your hip tight enough to leave marks.

He leaned down slightly, mouth brushing against your ear. “So good for me… fuckin’ perfect. This pussy’s mine, yeah? Say it.”

“Y-yours, Joel. All yours,” you whimpered, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Damn right,” he growled, snapping his hips even harder. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Make sure you know it’s mine.”

You didn’t stand a chance.

Joel’s pace turned relentless, fucking you so deep and fast you felt like you couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore. Your hands scrambled at the wall for something to grip, but it was useless — Joel had you exactly where he wanted you.

“C’mon, baby,” he rasped against your ear, his voice rough and ragged. “You gonna give it to me? Been teasin’ me all fuckin’ day. Gonna cum for me now like a good girl.”

His hand snaked down between your legs and rubbed tight, fast circles over your clit — and that was all it took.

Your orgasm slammed into you hard and sudden, your body tensing before trembling violently, vision going hazy as pleasure ripped through every nerve ending.

“Joel—fuck, fuck—”

You were babbling, moaning too loud now, but Joel only groaned low and fucked you through it, hips jerking roughly as he chased his own release.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled through clenched teeth, the strain in his voice obvious. “Milk my cock just like that—shit—”

With a final, deep thrust, Joel buried himself to the hilt and let out a deep, broken moan. His hips stuttered as he spilled inside you, his hold on your hips bruising as he rode out every last pulse.

The room fell quiet except for both of your harsh breathing, your foreheads pressed against the wall as you both came down slowly, your bodies trembling and sticky with sweat.

Joel didn’t pull out right away. He stayed pressed against your back, hands softening as they slid up your sides, thumbs stroking gently as he kissed your shoulder.

“Jesus,” he murmured, voice a rough whisper. “You fuckin’ ruin me, you know that?”

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that bubbled up.

“You’re the one who couldn’t control himself,” you teased weakly, still dazed and wobbly in your legs.

Joel chuckled low, the sound vibrating through your back as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “Yeah? Keep wearin’ those fuckin’ pants ‘round me, see what happens.”

Slowly, he eased out of you, hands steadying you when your legs threatened to give out completely.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured, turning you around carefully and catching you when you practically fell into his chest. His lips pressed softly to your temple as he cradled you close, his usual roughness melting into tenderness now that the heat of the moment had passed.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, pulling back just enough to search your face. His eyes — still a little wild but softer now — held nothing but concern and warmth.

You nodded, cheeks flushed, a dreamy little smile playing on your lips. “More than okay.”

Joel hummed, pleased, and leaned in to kiss you sweetly, slow and lingering — a sharp contrast to how desperately he’d just taken you against the wall.

When he pulled away, his lips quirked up in amusement.

“C’mere. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, tugging your yoga pants and panties carefully back up over your hips while you giggled at how tender he suddenly was.

“Oh, now you’re sweet?” you teased as he helped you shuffle over to the couch, guiding you to sit while he grabbed a nearby throw blanket and draped it over your lap.

Joel plopped down beside you, his arm slinging over your shoulders and tugging you into his side. His fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your shirt while his other hand rubbed slow, soothing circles against your thigh.

“M’always sweet after I fuck the attitude outta you,” he muttered smugly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you leaned into him, utterly spent but completely content.

“You totally ruined cleaning day,” you pointed out, voice light and teasing.

Joel snorted. “Shit needed ruin’ anyway,” he said lazily, nuzzling into your hair. “Might as well make a mess if we’re cleanin’ later.”

“You’re terrible.”

“Uh huh. Terrible and yours.”

You grinned, letting your eyes flutter closed as you relaxed fully against him, warmth and satisfaction settling deep in your bones. Joel’s hand never stopped moving, always soothing, always grounding.

Eventually, he shifted slightly to glance down at you, voice softer now — genuine.

“Love seein’ you like this, baby. All fucked out, wearin’ my clothes, curled up next to me. Could get used to it.”

Your heart squeezed, and even though he’d just ruined you against the wall in the filthiest way, the tenderness in his words made heat rise in your chest all over again.

“Yeah?” you murmured sleepily, turning your face to hide against his neck.

Joel kissed your forehead, voice low and certain.

“Yeah. Stay here all damn day if you let me.”

And somehow, you knew you’d never get around to cleaning. Not when Joel Miller held you like this — dirty, domestic, and completely his.

[standfucker]

Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Characters: Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Reader: GN (afab in Rosi's)

Word Count: 5.7k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches, sepsis

Summary: Continuing the series. Blackbeard's is more of a small bonus drabble that came to me, so his doesn't meet the 1k minimum I was shooting for in these. (And Rosi's went way over...)

Ao3 Link

Law

Your opponent is quicker than you're used to. As a cat mink, his reflexes are far better than yours. However, he fights unarmed while you use twin short swords, so you're able to keep some distance between you and even the playing field.

You tilt your head left to avoid his swipe, claws barely missing your face. Acting quickly, you return with a jab that pierces his armor and stabs into his shoulder. He hisses in pain and you grin–that's one arm he can't use anymore.

Your moment of confidence makes you slip up. Focused on the movement of his remaining arm, you're taken by surprise when he suddenly kicks one of your swords right out of your hand. He hasn’t used kicks at all until now, likely to catch you off-guard like this. Before you can recover, he follows up by thrusting his claws into your chest, digging in and unleashing electricity into your body.

Law looks over just in time to see you drop like a stone. “Y/n-ya!” he shouts–but you're unresponsive. He turns to Bepo, fighting by his side. “Bepo! Count to two, then kick as hard as you can where I am!”

Bepo, wisened to Law’s tactics, nods. “Aye-aye!”

Law flexes his fingers. “Room!”

The sphere of his power expands wide to cover the battlefield. He swaps places with the cat mink, hearing it yowl a moment later as Bepo’s foot connects with its gut. Grabbing your arm, he creates one more room from where he is and teleports you both to its perimeter, a safe distance from the fight. Aside from some bloody claw marks, he can't see major injuries.

“Scan!” Law calls, voice tinged with panic as his ability checks your vitals. To his horror, the scan of your body shows your heart has stopped entirely, and his own seems to follow suit. He quickly removes your heart from your body, holding it in his hand. Focusing, he runs his own electric current through your heart in a swift, measured jolt.

The muscle twitches once and remains still.

“No, no, come on.” Law tries again. Zap. No response. “Don’t you do this.” He tries again. Zap. And again, no response. “Come back.” Zap. Your heart is still.

This time, he uses both hands and runs a higher voltage, shouting, “Come back right now!” Your heart jumps–then, finally, starts to beat. The relief is almost nauseating.

Clutching your heart to his chest with one hand, Law tilts your jaw open with his other hand and seals his mouth over yours, delivering rescue breaths until he feels you start to breathe on your own.

Slowly, your eyes open, your breaths shallow but even. He's hovering right over your head, looking into your eyes. “Law?”

“Just stay still.” He runs another scan, making sure everything's running normally.

You try to get up, fighting the sluggishness of your body. “The fight–”

“It’s still going. Lie down.” Law pushes your shoulder, forcing you to recline.

“Then you need to go help them.”

“The rest of the crew has it handled. I'm not leaving you.”

You’re not sure what happened–everything went black while you were fighting–but whatever it was, it must have been bad if Law’s saying that. Still, you’re eager to rejoin the battle. “Am I going to die?” you ask stubbornly as you try to sit up again.

“Don't be ridiculous. I'd never let that happen. Lie down, Y/n-ya.”

Law doesn't let you fight. He doesn’t even let you get up, not until he's checked everything–blood pressure, oxygen level, potential blood clots, your ability to follow commands–and even then, he doesn't give you your heart back, stating he needs to keep an eye on it for a while “just in case.” The battle ends in victory, and you walk back to the crew with a square hole in your chest.

You don't know much about electric shock effects, but you suppose it's okay to make sure your heart hasn't been thrown out of rhythm. It is weird to go about your day with the hole in your body. And it’s weird to feel Law’s fingers around your heart. It’s difficult to describe–a sort of warm, sensitive, almost ticklish physical contact that you feel within your chest, despite it being outside your body. Every time Law picks up your heart, you’re aware. You don’t know where he keeps it, but it must be somewhere on his person; you feel it at random throughout the day or as you’re laying in bed at night. You can infer he stays up late, as you often fall asleep to the sensation of him holding it in his hand. 

Throughout all those days, you’ve never felt more secure, never slept more soundly than when you do knowing he’s keeping your very heart safe by his side.

Every day Law does another exam, taking the time to run a scan on your body. It seems a bit excessive to you, but you’re not about to tell him that. You’re just grateful for the attention, truth be told. You and Law have been close for a while now, even exchanging some fond words in the rare moments you’re alone, but neither of you have the courage to risk damaging your friendship. But having him literally hold onto your heart makes you feel linked to him in a way you never have before, and it’s driving you insane.

“All clear?” you ask as Law finishes another scan.

“Yes, you look good,” he says, making your cheeks warm at the phrasing, “though, occasionally your heart rate picks up when you’re at a resting state. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I will.” He holds up your heart in front of his face, scratching his beard with his other hand as he thinks. “Like now.”

That answer is fairly obvious to you, and entirely his fault. Watching him inspect your heart so closely makes you oddly nervous. And he puts his hands on you during these exams, too, feeling lymph nodes on your neck and instructing you to breathe in and out while he listens to your lungs. What are you supposed to do? You can’t help it. It’s involuntary.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, there was a hole where your heart should be that only he could fill. But you don’t say that. You just mumble, “I feel fine.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Aside from some fatigue in the beginning, you’ve otherwise been back to normal. “What do you think? Can I have it back?”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, one more day, then, just to be safe. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” you say. “It’s weirdly comforting, to be honest.”

“How?” Law looks at you incredulously. “I could crush your heart in my hand right now.”

Of course that would be his perspective. The risk of trusting someone so intimately isn’t lost on him. But after all these years, you would easily trust Law with your life, so you simply shrug. “You wouldn’t break my heart, would you?”

He stiffens. Surely you didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the way you say it–so earnestly, so innocently, looking at him with those big doe eyes of yours–he can’t help but feel a pang of longing. He desperately wants to protect you, to make right where he failed in the past. Law wants to reassure you, to bring you comfort that he hasn’t figured out how to give.

Instead, he says, “No.”

“Promise?” you ask softly.

“I promise, Y/n-ya.” Your heart beats faster in his hand. Law looks down at it, then at you, and there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“Okay,” you say. If he’s finally figured it out, maybe…maybe this is your chance. “Prove it.”

“How?” He looks a bit shocked, and the way his eyes keep flitting between your heart and your face tells you that he knows exactly how. 

You’re slow in your approach, and even slower when you put your arms around his neck, giving him plenty of time to back away. He’s uncertain, frozen in place, but if he wants you to stop, he isn’t saying so.

You lean in. Law closes his eyes. Your heart beats like crazy in his hand.

You kiss him. Just a brief, soft touch of your lips.

“Law,” you breathe. “Was that okay?”

Law responds by cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another.

Afterwards, he jokes that he doesn’t want to give your heart back. But that’s alright. Truth be told, he’d stolen it a long time ago.

Shanks

You return to consciousness through a cloud of black spots in your eyes, flashing in and out of your vision like raindrops on glass. It's immediately accompanied by the piercing whine of your ears ringing. You can’t hear anything else, nor can you tell where you are. A battle…you were pretty sure there was a battle. 

The spots recede to the edges of your vision, and you can see a cloudy sky, filling with gray smoke. You’re on your back. Faintly, you can hear shouts, filtering in through the shrill whine. A few seconds later, your brain starts putting names to the voices. Yasopp, Benn, Shanks.

Your captain’s face fills your vision a moment later. Instantly, you know something is very, very wrong, because you’ve never seen Shanks look panicked before. It’s just not an emotion in his repertoire. Always cool, always collected, always joyful, until now. He’s shouting something–your name.

“–you hear me? Just hang on. Hongo’s on his way. Fuck, fuck!”

“...Shanks…” you rasp, dimly becoming aware of your body. “What happened…?”

“It’s my fault, I didn’t stop them in time, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

It’s distant, but pain starts trickling through your body. Dull, throbbing pain, everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying to raise your head to assess yourself.

“Don’t!” Shanks stops you with a hand on your forehead. “Don’t move.”

Gradually, you start remembering the battle. The chaos, the noise. Now, there’s no more sound except the ringing in your ears, so it must be over. You were fighting someone who specialized in explosives, that was it. That explained the hurt, and the confusion.

“I was hit,” you say slowly.

Shanks just nods, looking grim.

Benn appears on your other side, crouching next to you and frowning. You search his face for an idea of the damage, but he keeps it carefully still as he looks you up and down. Then his eyes meet Shanks’, and they exchange a look that gives you a bad feeling.

As the ringing dies down just a little and your vision clears, the pain grows. It’s distracting, more so than you’re used to, but what’s even more distracting is the particular lack of it where it should be.

“...Shanks?” you say. “I can’t feel my leg.”

His lower lip wobbles, and then his lips press together in a tight, thin line, and that’s when you know. You lift your head to try and see, but he stops you again. “Don’t look. It’s better if you don’t look.”

It’s funny–he looks like the one on the verge of falling apart. You hate to see him so distraught, so unlike himself, all his cheerful confidence vanished.

“It’s my left leg…” you say.

“Yeah...”

“That means we match.”

He smiles ruefully, tears breaking from his lash line and running free. “Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say, reaching for his hand.

He takes it gently. “That’s my line.”

Coping is a funny thing. You spend most of your energy post-surgery comforting Shanks. Not because he can’t handle it by himself, and not because he asks you too. It’s just easier to externalize the situation, to make it about his self-blame rather than address the gaping loss of your body.

Shanks tries to hide it from you, to not burden you, but you know him too well. Eventually, you get tired of how he drinks himself into a stupor most nights. You get tired of how your crutches irritate your armpits, tired of how you keep losing balance, tired of the phantom pains that shoot through nerves that aren’t there anymore. You snap at him. You shout. You cry that blaming himself won’t regrow your leg, so can’t he please just be there for you? You need him–you’ve always needed him–now more than ever before.

It’s an ugly, broken confession, but it finally reaches him.

Shanks pulls you in close and apologizes. His eyes are moist even though he’s not usually a crier, overwhelmed by what he’s put you through, overwhelmed that you’re finally admitting your feelings under such nightmarish conditions.

“I love you,” he whispers, over and over. “I love you.”

Healing is both easier after that, and yet harder. Now, with no distraction from your loss, you have to face it head on. It’s easier because he’s there. That he’s been through this before makes you cling to him more than you would have, surrounding yourself in the grim comforts of someone who understands. Shanks holds you tight on those nights when you scream “it’s gone,” over and over, lets you squeeze his hand when you have phantom pain, helps you shower when you can’t manage it by yourself, supports you on your first shaky steps using the prosthetic. The recovery journey is an arduous one, but you make it out the other side closer than ever before.

Years later, it’s something you can joke about without feeling that twinge of loss, especially when your crewmates call you and Shanks a complementary set. Now that you’re finally official with him and back to your full battle capacity, you can appreciate what happened to you for what it proved: that together, you and Shanks are complete.

Mihawk

You and Mihawk were opposite sides of the same coin. As different as you could be from each other, but still inexplicably connected as longtime rivals. Being warlords was the only thing you really had in common: He was a swordsman, you used guns; he sailed alone, you commanded a large crew; his colors of arms was better, your colors of observation was better. He preferred not to talk much, while you loved to egg him into trading banter. Many clashes with each other throughout the years solidified your strange, thrilling rivalry until you looked forward to the rare times you ran into each other.

Nowadays, you only really see each other during warlord meetings. So, when you were ambushed by your own crew, Mihawk was the last person you expected to save you.

He took out the four men holding you down, tossed you your pistols, and fought by your side. Your crew wasn’t weak by any means– you hand-picked them to sail with you–and had you been alone, you wouldn't have survived. With your combined strength, however, the battle was over quickly.

It surprised Mihawk, then, that you didn't stick around to bother him like you usually did. You fired a smoke round and disappeared. He figured that you were demoralized from the mutiny and didn't have it in you, but when the smoke cleared, he saw tell-tale drops of blood where you were. 

Mihawk finds you in an abandoned shed not far from the battle. You're panting, hunched down against the wall and facing away from him, a first aid kit at your feet. He's as quiet as a cat when he approaches, but naturally you sense him anyway.

“How did you find me?” you ask without looking up.

“I followed the blood trail,” he says flatly. “You should have stemmed the flow before running off.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Did you tie a tourniquet first?” he asks, and even from there he can see you roll your eyes.

“Can’t. It’s not in the right place.” You raise shaky arms to your head, fiddling with something–stitches, most likely.

“Let me see.”

You glare at him for a moment, eyes uncharacteristically hard and angry. Then you quietly relent by turning, letting him see your other side. There’s a long, deep gash going from your temple down to your neck. Still oozing blood, he can't see for sure, but estimates it's gone down to the bone. You’ve got a few crude, clumsy stitches started in the top, the needle hanging from the wire, but without being able to see what you’re doing, it’s a piss poor job.

Mihawk wordlessly approaches you and crouches down, sharp gold eyes fixed on your wound. “It needs to be redone,” he says, unsheathing Kogatana and cutting through your stitches. You don’t so much as flinch when he pulls the wires out–you wouldn’t dare in front of him, he supposes. He’d likely do the same. Maybe you were more alike than he thought. 

He takes the first aid kid from the ground and re-threads the needle, then starts to stitch your wound, pressing gauze to soak up the blood as he goes. “It's deep,” he says.

”That explains why it stings so bad,” you mumble. While you successfully resist the urge to wince, you can’t stop yourself from tearing up. “Man…”

“It could be worse. It went down to your skull, but the bone itself wasn't damaged.”

“What, are you trying to cheer me up?” You turn to look at him, but he tilts your chin back to the side and chides you to hold still.

You exhale harshly through your nose at the unpleasant sensation. “I hate needles,” you say suddenly. “I hate sharp things in general. The thought of a blade going through skin gives me the creeps.” He doesn’t respond, and you feel awkward, but you continue anyway, feeling the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. “I’ve teased you about using swords, but the truth is, I could never.”

Mihawk doesn’t pause in his stitching, only hums. “If it’s worth anything, I’m a terrible shot.”

The corner of your lip twitches up. It does make you feel a little better, to be honest. 

You glance at the swordsman as he works. His eyes are always so much more intense up close. You used to find it unsettling, but right now, focused as they are on your wound, it just seems oddly endearing. You glance away, blinking quickly, and a tear breaks from your lash line.

When Mihawk pauses to wipe it away, it’s so fluid and unhesitating that you debate if it really happened at all. Warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you avoid looking at him.

“Hey, ‘Hawk,” you say.

“What?”

You stare at the ground carefully. “Why did you help me?”

He’s quiet for a while, perhaps thinking about his answer, perhaps just keeping up his mysterious image.

“You’re the only one who’s ever successfully shot me,” he finally says. “To think someone of your caliber would be taken out by such cowardly tactics doesn’t sit right with me.”

You let that sink in while he finishes his work, tying off the stitches and applying the bandages. It’s weird–all the times you’ve bickered, all the times you’ve fought with lethal intent, and yet you trust with all your heart that Mihawk won’t harm you right now.

You’ve let your guard down too much, you think to yourself. That’s how you missed the warning signs of your crew’s mutiny, that’s how you got injured in battle, that’s how you’ve let Mihawk get this close.

Even then, you find yourself leaning your head into his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The reality of what you’re doing hits you a moment later, and you quickly stand up, only for the world to spin and your knees to buckle.

Mihawk catches you easily. “You've lost a lot of blood.”

“It'll refill,” you mumble.

“In time. You need to rest.”

“Alright, alright,” you say. His hold is so secure, you kind of never want him to let go. Damn, you have lost a lot of blood. “I owe you for this, Mihawk. Somehow I'll pay you back.”

“How about dinner?” he asks, and you’re so caught off-guard that you stare owlishly.

“H-Hey, come on, now,” you say, but Mihawk has never really been one to joke. There's a crack in your confident demeanor. “Serious?”

“Serious.” He takes your hand, raising it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles.

Rosinante

“It’s not a fucking show,” you snap at the crew, crowded around where you are in the med bay of the Numenca Flamingo. Doflamingo is bent over the wound in your side, a string attaching his finger to the bullet still inside. Corazon holds your body down.

“You gonna scream?” Diamante teases cruelly, but you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that, huh, you sick–FUCK!” you shriek at the end as Doflamingo yanks out the bullet, body jerking against Corazon's iron grip. Diamante and Trebol both chuckle like the bastards they are, but Doflamingo waves them and the rest away as he moves in to disinfect the area.

You shiver, fighting not to tear up in front of the two of them. It is of the utmost importance not to show weakness around Doflamingo. After years of dedication and rigorous work, you’ve clawed your way into a promotion from a top Donquixote Pirate to one of the people in his Family.

It’s imperative, as an undercover Marine, that you don’t lose this chance. Your job is to support Corazon. You’d rather not cry in front of him, either, but that’s more about pride than anything else.

Doflamingo traces your hip as he finishes sewing you up with his string. “Buffalo said you took the bullet for Baby 5.” 

You stiffen at his touch, an oddly soft contrast to the string that nonetheless makes you ill at ease. “Yes, Young Master.” Are you in trouble? You don’t want to act soft, but you couldn’t stand by and let a child get shot, either.

“I see,” he says, and you hold your breath. “I’d expect no less from someone I hand-picked.”

He pats your head once, then leaves the room, and relief courses through your veins alongside the adrenaline.

Corazon gives you a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak to you, of course–too risky. His voice is a distant memory at this point, all the way from back when you were in training together.

A few uneventful days pass as the crew sails back to base with their spoils. The pain in your side seems to spread to right below your gut, intensifying as it goes. The wound area isn’t red or swollen, so you realize you must have gotten your period on top of everything. Great.

You’re the unlucky type that suffers from hellish, unpredictable menstruation, the pain often debilitating enough to put you out of commission until it abates. It was easier to cover up back in the Marines, feigning illness, but you wouldn’t be granted such liberties in the pirate world. You've had to fight through the agony to keep up your appearance as a tough-as-nails pirate commander. It seemed you were being tested again, as now you had to resist while under watch of the Family.

The cramps continue to get worse by the day until you’re nauseated from the pain. You end up vomiting over the side of the ship more than once, which you claim is from eating bad food. You try everything to take your focus off the pain. Meditation, breathing exercises. But for some reason, it just keeps getting worse. There’s one day where it seems to slightly abate, and you go to bed believing you’re past the worst of it, only to wake up the next day in complete, room-spinning agony. Moving makes it worse, every time you go to the bathroom or help with the ship tasks it feels like you might pass out. You can’t get comfortable no matter which position you lay in, and you sweat like crazy even though it’s cold.

You’re shaky while you help haul in ropes, thoughts so consumed by how terrible you feel that you jump when Corazon taps your shoulder. He scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to you. 

‘You look like shit.’

“That obvious?” you ask, even as your guts and head both swim in a thick fog of pain. Corazon scribbles some more.

‘Your pain tolerance is high. This is unusual for you.’

“It’ll pass,” you respond, turning away from him. He starts writing letters on your back, something he does to make absolutely sure no one can read your conversation later through his notepad.

‘Worried.’

The guilt eats at you before he can even finish writing it. As Doflamingo’s right hand, Corazon has himself to worry about. You’re supposed to make his job easier, not be dead weight. So even though this is the worst it’s ever been, even though you just want to cry at how much it hurts, you steel yourself. You can’t crumble now. “I’ll be okay, Cora,” you dismiss.

Law stands at the foot of your hammock that night as you writhe, a curious Baby 5 next to him.

“What do you want, Law,” you grit out.

“List your primary symptoms,” Law says. You glance at him to see he’s holding a notepad and pencil. “Also, you should let me look at how your wound’s healing.”

“I don’t need the opinion of an eight year old,” you spit, the pain making you lash out. You’ve already looked at your wound, you’ve dealt with many in the past, and the area around your incision looks fine.

Law clenches his fists, irritated. “You’re being a real bitch.”

Baby 5 gasps. Law shoots her a glare that makes her whimper and hide behind your hammock. He mutters to himself as he storms out.

“Why don’t you tell someone if you’re feeling bad?” Baby 5 asks timidly once Law’s gone.

“Because,” you say, taking a deep breath to try to focus on getting the words out. “I don’t have a devil fruit. My haki abilities are rudimentary. I can’t fall behind, Baby 5. I want to be useful to the Young Master.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One day you’ll get cramps, and hopefully they won’t be this bad. But when it happens, you have to be tough and not let anyone know. It’s looked down upon by those who don’t get them. You’ll be left behind…”

“That’s gonna happen to me?” Baby 5 looks worried.

You try to reassure her that since she’s handled everything the adults have thrown at her thus far, she’ll be fine. Baby 5 doesn’t look convinced, but you don’t have it in you to care right then.

By the next day the pain is so searingly, blindingly intense that no amount of willpower can overcome it. You’re woken up by it, and this time it’s unmatched by all the previous days combined. It feels like someone’s poured molten lava into your guts. It feels like your organs are being ripped out of your body. Pressing a pillow into your gut gives you a fraction of relief, but even the slightest relief is like heaven when the pain is that bad–until you’re ripped back down, not to earth, but to hell, and it’s agony all over again.

Somehow, you manage to get out of your hammock, only to end up on your knees on the floor, holding your stomach and making pitiful noises.

Distantly, you get the sensation that Corazon is writing words on your back, but you’re so out of it that you can’t parse them.

“Need help,” you whimper, voice breaking.

Corazon sends someone to get Doflamingo, who has Law assess you. After taking your vitals and pressing on your abdomen (you’ve never considered killing a child before, but it hurts so bad that you scream) Law declares you need to be hospitalized immediately, and also says he told you so just to rub salt in the wound.

It’s a miracle that there’s an island within a few hour’s sail. You don’t remember those hours very well. It’s in and out, coming and going with the waves of pain. All you remember is Corazon, staying by your side the entire time. He keeps the crueler Family members away from you, lets you squeeze his hand for comfort, holds your hair back when you throw up. When you make it to the island, he’s the one to carry you to the hospital.

You get palpated again by the hospital doctors (your own special hell) while Corazon holds your hand, get scanned by a machine, and finally diagnosed with a severe infection that’s gone septic. Post-surgery finally has you in relief, doped up on painkillers, but very, very weak.

Recovery is its own trial. Combined with the strength of the painkillers, plus your body fighting off the infection, you see things when you close your eyes. You’re not sure if members of the Family come to visit you, or if you’re imagining they were there. The only constant is Corazon.

You wake up one night to see him hunched over in a too-small chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even half-awake, you get the sudden sense that he’s trying not to cry. He probably wouldn’t want to see you like that, and you’re so, so tired still, so you go back to sleep.

You dream that he speaks to you. Perhaps it’s a memory, but when you wake up, you see his silhouette in the door.

“Cora?” You smile, lifting your head, but your smile dies when you see Doflamingo stepping inside. 

“Young Master,” you say weakly. Why is he visiting you alone? What could he possibly want, aside from telling you that you were demoted?

“Baby 5 was inconsolable,” he starts, sauntering up to your bed. “Someone told her she’d suffer the same condition that you did. Then she said something strange...” He trails a hand on the railing of your bed as he walks up to your side, looming over you. “She begged us not to abandon her.” You feel your blood run cold as Doflamingo grins. “What a silly notion.”

You open your mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. He reaches out a hand to brush back your hair and cup your cheek. It takes everything in you not to flinch away.

“Could it be, perhaps, you thought I’d abandon you, Y/n?” he asks, your daunted face reflected crimson in his sunglasses.

Swallowing, you nod, and he grips your chin harshly.

“In your concern, you almost got yourself killed,” he says. “I selected you to join me for a reason. You're no good to me dead. Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, and after another terrifying moment where he stares into your eyes–maybe your soul–he finally leaves.

Corazon writes furiously later, berating you for being so dismissive of your own condition. 

‘You were on death’s door! Your CRP was over 200!’ 

“How much is it supposed to be?”

‘Zero! Fool!!’

You apologize endlessly, and more so as he helps you recover, until he gets sick of your apologies, too–but when he takes your hand, his gaze is soft.

From here on out, no more suffering alone, he writes into your palm, we fight together.

He holds your hand in both of his larger ones and, doing a quick check to make sure you’re still alone, brushes his lips against the tips of your fingers.

Suddenly you understand just how much he’s longed not to fight alone in his mission, and how important it is for you to be there. You bow your head, pull his hands so they’re at your chest, and kiss the back of one. “I understand.”

Blackbeard

Comparatively, you are the better in sheer physical strength to your opponent, but the other pirate outspeeds you. You fail to dodge back far enough from the downward stab of his dagger, and it sinks into the meat of your thigh.

You snarl in pain while he roars in triumph. His roar gets cut off as you suddenly grab his throat.

“Insect!” you snarl as you squeeze hard, grinding his windpipe to his spine. He flails, making horrid choking noises and digging his nails into your hand. There’s a brief struggle where he tries to reach the dagger in your thigh, but you grab his wrist before he can and, with a surge of armament haki, snap it in your grip. He can’t even cry out like this, just writhes around like mad, and you wait a few more seconds before the blood flow is cut off to his brain for too long, and he goes limp.

The rest of the crew watches from the seats of the bar as you snap his neck sharply before letting him drop. The other patrons of the seedy bar cheer, and cash is begrudgingly exchanged while you hobble back to the Blackbeard Pirates. Doc Q starts to look over your leg as you lean against the bar.

“Thirty seconds,” Lafitte says, looking at his pocket watch, “you said it would take you ten.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lafitte,” you warn. The pain wracking through your leg gives you no patience for his snide commentary. “Or I’ll choke you out next.”

“Promise?”

In an instant, you yank the knife out of your thigh and stab it into Lafitte’s so deep it’s almost at the hilt. He screams while Doc Q yells at you, “Don’t pull out the knife–!”

“They fucking stabbed me!” Lafitte shrieks as Blackbeard, Burgess and Auger burst out into laughter. 

“I missed your femoral on purpose,” you grumble. “Next time I won’t.”

Doc Q rushes to stem the bleeding from your thigh, and you cross your arms, trying to quell your temper. Because the Doc has to sew you up first, Lafitte will have to wait a while with that dagger sunken into his leg. It’s a fitting punishment, but you still kind of want to kill him.

Blackbeard, wearing his shitty grin, drapes his arm around your shoulders. You throw him a warning look that he ignores, as usual. Most times he does this, you push his arm away and otherwise reject him to his face. This is one of the rare times you don't. You’re still in a lot of pain, and there’s pretty much nowhere else–no one else–on this planet that you could get a comforting touch from. You let him hold you to his side, if only to abate the burning of your injury, and ever so slightly, you feel your rage boil down to a simmer.

“Better, trinket?” Blackbeard asks you, smirking.

“No,” you lie.