#I appreciate your support in these trying times

[theshunbun]

hi! :) i love your art- i've been following you for a few months, ty for your service i love supportive msgs & hot girls <3 but i'm curious how you keep uploading so much? its not smth that everyone can do :0 are these drawings made in a session and uploaded ahead of time? or do you draw each one every day?

Thank you so much for following and for the kind words ;w; I really appreciate it after the crazy week I've hadd! 💖 but I'm glad you're enjoying the supportive messages and the art 💖 💖 💖

Hmmm, As for how I upload so much, I honestly don’t think about it too much I usually try and draw about three pieces a day, and I just keep that flow going without trying to be perfectionist on myself so I don’t really stress over it, I just let the ideas come and keep the momentum rolling.

I know some artists like to batch their work and schedule uploads, but for me, I guess I just go with the flow and do my best to create daily, have been doing this since 2012 when I was known as Emilys Diary. But fr I enjoy drawing, and I love sharing my work, so it never really feels like a chore ;u; Of course, some days are more productive than others, but I have a thing where even if I am at my worst, I do at least 1 Tato drawing then I can sulk and feel bad 💖

[777bae]

WITH YOU JACK HUGHES

Summary :: After a brutal injury, you’re left to navigate recovery on your own. But Jack, despite the distance, becomes your lifeline—calling every day, offering comfort, and doing everything he can to be there. When he finally returns, his unwavering love and support help you heal, proving that together, you can overcome anything.

Warnings :: description of injury

Word count :: 5.6k

It all started at an NHL-run community skate event. You’d been invited along with a few other women’s league players to skate alongside the NHL stars, giving young fans a chance to meet their idols in a laid-back, personal setting. You didn’t expect much from the event—just another community outreach, another day to interact with fans and grow the game you loved. But that was before you met him.

Jack Hughes had been one of the NHL’s rising stars for a while, and despite the buzz around him, he was surprisingly down-to-earth. Tall, with his bright blue eyes and easy smile, he was exactly as you’d imagined him—charismatic, charming, and somehow completely approachable.

As you laced up your skates, adjusting the blades on your boots, you’d heard his laugh first, a genuine, warm sound that made it hard not to smile. You hadn’t even looked up when you realized he was skating toward you until you felt the brush of a glove on your shoulder.

“You here to show us how it’s done?” Jack’s voice was playful, but there was a hint of curiosity behind his words. You glanced up, met his gaze, and for a moment, both of you seemed to just… stop. He wasn’t towering over you, but there was a light in his eyes that made you feel like you were suddenly the center of attention.

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’re the one who’s been stealing all the spotlight. I just came to get some practice in. You know, to make sure I don’t show you up.”

He laughed again, this time shaking his head as he lowered himself into a comfortable skating stance. “I’m not worried. I’ve seen how fast some of the girls on your team can skate.” He leaned in a little, his voice a touch quieter. “But I have to admit, I’m hoping I’ll learn something today.”

It was all playful banter, but somehow, there was a connection that flickered between you in that brief exchange. Something about his easy confidence mixed with a genuine curiosity about the women’s game. It wasn’t like the typical interactions you had with male players; there was no condescension, no weird power dynamic. Just a guy who appreciated the game and the players—regardless of their gender.

The rest of the skate went by in a blur of friendly competition and shared laughter, with Jack occasionally pulling you into a race around the rink. You couldn’t deny that his speed on the ice matched his charm off it. It was fun—refreshing, really—especially since you were used to competing against men who sometimes didn’t seem to understand the level of skill and commitment women brought to the game. But Jack, he didn’t seem like that at all. If anything, he seemed eager to learn, to listen.

Afterward, while most of the other players were heading off to grab something to eat, Jack caught up to you again as you were packing your gear away.

“Hey, you wanna grab some dinner?” he asked, his voice casual but with that little spark of hopefulness. “I promise I won’t make it weird—just thought it’d be nice to hang out, talk about the game… maybe see if you’re as competitive off the ice as you are on it.”

It was a little unexpected, but something about the offer felt right. You’d spent so many years in a world of competition, sometimes too focused on the next game, the next practice. The thought of having a simple, easy evening, talking about something other than hockey, sounded like a refreshing change.

“Sure,” you agreed, trying to hide the small smile creeping onto your face. “I could use the company.”

That first dinner was nothing extraordinary—just a low-key meal at a local diner, where you both dug into greasy comfort food and swapped stories about your respective teams. But the conversation never lagged. Jack talked about his early days in hockey, his family, his goals, and somehow, you found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected, sharing things you usually kept locked behind a barrier of professionalism. It felt natural, easy, like you’d known him much longer than just a few hours.

By the time you were leaving the diner, you felt something click. It wasn’t just the conversation. It was the way Jack made you feel seen, valued. He didn’t view you as just a player; he saw you as someone who belonged in the same conversation as the men he idolized.

That night, as he walked you to your car, he hesitated before speaking.

“Do you think we could do this again?” His tone was soft, uncertain—nothing like the cocky attitude you sometimes saw from athletes. There was a real vulnerability in his question, an openness that you hadn’t expected from someone with so much attention on him.

You smiled, already knowing the answer before you even said it. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The following months passed in a whirlwind. The connection you’d felt that night only deepened as you found yourselves spending more time together, whether it was over quick dinners after games or stolen moments between practices. The distance between your homes had been a challenge at first, but Jack made it work. His busy NHL schedule and your packed NWHL calendar had their limitations, but you made it a priority. Phone calls, FaceTime, and text messages became lifelines, bridging the gap when you couldn’t be in the same place.

And then came the moment when it all felt a little more real. One night, after a game where you’d scored the game-winning goal, Jack called you to congratulate you. As you chatted about the game, the conversation shifted.

“So, I was thinking…” Jack’s voice dropped a little, a teasing edge creeping in. “What if we make this official? You know, like, ‘dating’ officially. I mean, we’ve spent enough time together at this point, and I’m kind of starting to like you.”

You’d laughed at first, but when you heard the sincerity in his voice, you felt that flutter in your chest.

“I think I could be okay with that,” you’d said softly, feeling something in your heart shift.

And just like that, what had started as a casual meeting at a community skate turned into something real, something deep. The spark between you two grew into a full-blown flame, one that, despite the distance and the challenges ahead, seemed unstoppable.

That was how it all began. From a community skate to something much bigger. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t just fighting for your place in the game—you were fighting for something real, with someone who understood and shared your passion for both hockey and life.

It had been a few months since you and Jack had officially started dating, and even though the connection between you two had only deepened over time, the long-distance nature of your relationship had taken its toll. Jack was a rising star in the NHL, and your team’s season in the Women’s Hockey League was just as intense, if not more so. So, when Jack had to leave for a week-long stretch of West Coast games, the distance felt particularly harsh. But you both had your routines, and you had become experts at making the most of what time you had together.

The first night Jack was gone, you walked through your shared apartment, the silence of the space more apparent than usual. You had been here before, used to being away from each other for stretches of time, but it didn’t make the loneliness any easier. Still, you had your own games to focus on, so you pushed aside the feeling and settled into your familiar routine of stretching, preparing, and strategizing for your upcoming match.

That week, your team was on a roll. You managed to secure comfortable victories in your first two games, and no matter the late hours or time zone difference, you made sure to FaceTime Jack after each of your games. His voice was always a small anchor that pulled you back into a sense of normalcy. His tired face would appear on the screen, grinning with excitement or offering words of encouragement as you recapped your performances. The calls were a lifeline, a reminder that even though the miles between you stretched across the country, you weren’t alone in this. You’d FaceTime on his days off, too, taking solace in the familiarity of his presence, even if it was only a screen away.

But it was that third game that shook everything.

You had been feeling sharp and focused, your team’s momentum riding high. You were confident going into the match, your movements on the ice instinctively flowing with each pass and play. The puck was on your stick as you skated into the offensive zone, eyes locked on the net ahead, the crowd’s roars swelling around you. But just as you prepared to make your move, you felt a brutal shove from your side. The force was unanticipated, and before you could brace yourself, you were sent spiraling off balance.

The hit slammed into your leg, pain shooting through your entire body like a bolt of electricity. Your vision flashed white for a moment, the rink around you spinning as you crumpled to the ice, unable to register anything other than the excruciating ache in your lower body. You could hear voices, distant and muffled, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the raw agony. Your leg felt like it was on fire, every inch of it screaming at you in ways you didn’t think possible.

The next few moments were a blur. You were helped off the ice, each movement sending shocks of pain through your leg as your teammates rushed to your side. You were placed in an ice bath to try to numb the swelling, but it was clear from the first glance—the leg wasn’t just bruised. It was broken.

At the hospital, the diagnosis hit like a hammer to the chest. You had multiple fractures in your leg—some clean breaks, some more complicated. Surgery was the only option, and it needed to be done as soon as possible. You were too overwhelmed to process anything. The pain was all-consuming, and the physical shock of it was enough to dull your thoughts. The one thing that kept repeating in your mind, though, was that you hadn’t messaged Jack. You had forgotten. You had promised him you’d let him know if anything happened, but now, you couldn’t even remember if you had the energy to tell him.

You were rushed into surgery, the doctors prepping you quickly for the procedure, but you couldn’t shake the guilt of not reaching out to him. When you fell unconscious from the anesthesia, your thoughts faded, but that nagging feeling remained.

Meanwhile, in California, Jack had just finished his game. He had played well—scoring a goal and getting an assist—but his mind was elsewhere. His phone buzzed as he walked into the locker room to cool down. As he picked it up, his heart stopped for a second. It was a video message from one of his friends, a clip from the game he had just missed. It was you.

The footage was grainy, taken from the stands. He saw the hit happen in real-time, the moment when your body was slammed to the ice. And then, the terrible sight of you crumpling, unable to move as pain clearly overtook you. His breath caught in his throat, and panic surged through his chest.

Without thinking, he immediately called your number, but it went straight to voicemail. His hands were shaking now, his mind racing with worry. Why hasn’t she answered? He called again, and again, his anxiety growing with each unanswered ring.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, growing frantic. He tried texting you, then calling your teammates and coaches, but no one picked up. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours as he dialed number after number, panic creeping up his spine.

Finally, one of your coaches picked up. The calm, steady voice on the other end didn’t help to alleviate Jack’s mounting panic.

“Coach, what happened to her?” Jack’s voice was tight, strained. “Is she okay? Why isn’t she answering? What happened? I saw the hit—she looked… she looked like she was in so much pain!”

Your coach’s voice was reassuring but firm. “Jack, calm down. She’s in surgery right now. She fractured her leg pretty badly. The doctors are taking care of her. They’re going to monitor her recovery closely. But she’s going to be okay.”

He froze, his heart still pounding. “Surgery? Is she awake? Can I talk to her? I need to talk to her.”

“She’s still under, Jack. They’re finishing up. She’ll be okay. You can’t be here right now, and I know that’s hard. But she’s in good hands.”

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. “How long is she going to be in the hospital?”

“At least a couple weeks. They’ll want to monitor her closely to make sure everything heals properly.”

The words barely registered at first, but Jack’s mind finally began to slow, even as frustration and helplessness gnawed at him. He had a whole week of games ahead. There was no way he could be by her side—he would have to wait. And the thought of being this far away from her, with nothing but the distance and his uncertainty, felt unbearable.

After the call ended, Jack sat in silence for a long moment, trying to collect himself. He wasn’t sure how he would make it through the next few days, but he knew one thing for sure—he couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. He would call her every day. He would check in, even if it was through a screen, and he would make sure she knew he was there for her, even if he couldn’t be there physically.

Hours after the surgery, you began to stir, the soft beeping of machines pulling you from the thick haze of anesthesia. Your body felt heavy, your head foggy, and the ache in your leg was muted but persistent, a constant reminder of what had happened. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, you slowly registered your surroundings—the sterile white hospital room, the IV taped to your arm, and the faint murmur of voices outside the door. Everything felt surreal, like you were caught between waking and dreaming.

The door creaked open, and your coach stepped inside. She offered a soft smile, her familiar presence grounding you amidst the disorientation. “Welcome back, kid,” she said gently, pulling up a chair beside your bed. “How are you feeling?”

You managed a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a croak. “Like I got hit by a truck,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s about right,” your coach replied, crossing her arms. “But the surgery went well. They said you’ll be back on your feet eventually—it’s just going to take some time.”

You nodded slowly, letting the information sink in. The details of the injury and the hit felt blurry, distant, as if they belonged to someone else. What you did remember, however, was the pressing need to call Jack. You opened your mouth to ask about him, but your coach beat you to it.

“Your boyfriend,” she said with a knowing smirk, “has been losing his mind. He’s been calling non-stop since he found out. I had to take one of his calls during your surgery just to calm him down. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone freak out that much in my life.”

Despite the lingering grogginess, you chuckled softly, though the motion tugged at your sore muscles. “Did I… Did I at least tell him I’m okay before I went under?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

“Not a chance,” she said, shaking her head. “You were out cold before you could even grab your phone. But don’t worry—he knows you made it through the surgery. Barely, though. The poor guy sounded like he was about to hop on a plane mid-road trip.”

You smiled faintly at the image of Jack pacing in some hotel room, his phone glued to his ear as he pestered anyone who would answer. Your heart ached at the thought of how worried he must have been. You motioned weakly toward the bedside table, where your phone sat, its screen dark but promising missed calls and messages. “Can you hand me that?” you asked.

Your coach retrieved the phone and placed it in your trembling hands. As you fumbled with the screen, your fingers clumsy and unsteady, you saw the barrage of missed calls and texts from Jack. Over a dozen calls, countless messages—all timestamped from the moment he must have seen the hit. Swallowing hard, you tapped his name and brought the phone to your ear.

It barely rang once before his voice burst through the line. “Hey!” Jack’s tone was frantic, a mix of relief and worry. “Are you okay? Are you in pain? Is there someone there with you? Do you need something? God, I should’ve been there—I should’ve been with you—”

“Jack,” you interrupted softly, but he didn’t stop.

“I saw the clip. I saw it. That hit—it looked so bad. You just went down, and I—God, I felt like my heart stopped. I’ve been calling everyone, and no one was picking up, and then your coach finally called me back and said you were in surgery. Surgery! I should’ve been there—”

“Jack,” you said again, more firmly this time, though your voice was still weak. His words slowed, but the panic in his tone was still evident. “I’m okay,” you assured him, even as your own voice wavered. “The surgery went well. I’m sore, but I’ll be alright. I promise.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, the silence filled with his uneven breathing. “You’re sure?” he asked finally, his voice quieter but still laced with worry. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m sure,” you said, your lips curling into a faint smile. “They said I’ll make a full recovery. It’s going to take a while, but I’m okay, Jack. You don’t have to worry.”

His sigh of relief was audible, but it was short-lived. “How could I not worry?” he said, his voice rising again. “I saw the hit, and then I didn’t hear from you, and I was stuck here, a thousand miles away, with no idea if you were okay or if you were—” He stopped himself, his voice breaking. “I hate this. I hate that I’m not there with you.”

The raw frustration in his voice was enough to bring tears to your eyes. “It’s just hockey,” you said softly, trying to reassure him. “Stuff like this happens. It’s part of the game.”

“Not to you,” he snapped, the sharpness of his words catching you off guard. “It can happen to anyone else, but not you. You’re the last person I want to see getting hurt, and now you’re stuck in a hospital bed, and I can’t even be there to hold your hand.”

“Jack,” you whispered, but he was on a roll now, his frustration spilling over.

“I can’t believe this stupid schedule,” he muttered. “I should be on the next flight home. Screw the games. They can deal without me for one night—”

“You can’t do that,” you said quickly, your voice firmer this time. “Jack, I need you to focus on your games. I’ll be fine. You’ll see me soon enough.”

He sighed again, the sound heavy with reluctance. “I just… I feel so helpless,” he admitted. “You’re hurt, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you told him gently. “Just hearing your voice right now is enough.”

The conversation eventually calmed, though Jack’s worry never fully faded. He promised to call every day—and he did. Over the next week, he became your lifeline.

The first night after your surgery, Jack called you just as he promised he would. The moment your phone buzzed with his name on the screen, a sense of comfort washed over you. You answered immediately, his face appearing on the screen before you could even get out a greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but still edged with worry. His hair was damp from a post-game shower, and you could see the dark circles under his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admitted, shifting slightly against the pillows propping you up. Your leg throbbed dully beneath the cast, but seeing Jack’s face helped dull the ache. “Sore, but okay.”

“You look pale,” he noted, his brows furrowing as his eyes scanned the screen, like he could physically assess you through it. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you been eating? What about water—have you been drinking enough?”

“Jack,” you interrupted gently, your lips quirking into a faint smile. “I’m fine. They’ve been taking care of me here, and the doctors said the surgery went well. You don’t have to worry so much.”

His sigh was audible even through the small speaker of your phone. “How can I not worry? I hate that I’m stuck here while you’re dealing with all of this alone.”

“You’re not stuck. You’re doing your job,” you reminded him. “And I’m not alone. My team’s been in and out, and the nurses here are great.”

“It’s not the same,” he muttered, his tone low. “I should be there.”

You reached up and adjusted the angle of your phone, so he could see your reassuring smile. “You’re here, Jack. Maybe not physically, but this? These calls? They help more than you know.”

His face softened slightly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t entirely disappear. “I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re doing plenty,” you said firmly. “Now, tell me about your game. How’d it go?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, but when you raised an expectant eyebrow, he relented. “It went alright. We won, but it was closer than it should’ve been. I missed an open net in the second period, and the guys gave me hell for it.”

“Missed an open net?” you teased, your tone light. “Wow, Jack Hughes is human after all.”

He groaned, though you caught the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I’ll make up for it next game.”

“I’m sure you will,” you said with a grin. “You always do.”

The conversation shifted after that, Jack asking about your day in the hospital. He wanted to know everything—what you ate, what the doctors said, how much pain you were in. His questions were relentless, but you didn’t mind. If anything, it warmed your heart to know how much he cared. By the time the call ended, your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but the lingering sound of Jack’s voice in your mind made falling asleep a little easier.

The calls became your anchor over the next week. Every night, without fail, Jack would call you after his game, no matter how late it was. Some nights, he’d FaceTime you, propping his phone up on a stack of pillows in his hotel room while he lounged on the bed in sweats and a hoodie. Other nights, he’d call you during his downtime at the rink, his voice echoing faintly in the empty locker room as he checked in on you.

On the third night, after another win for his team, Jack’s call came through just after midnight. You answered groggily, your phone resting on your chest as you blinked sleepily at his face.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

“No, it’s okay,” you murmured, shifting slightly to prop yourself up against the pillows. “How was the game?”

“Good,” he said, though his expression was a little sheepish. “I scored a goal, but I got into it with a guy on the other team. He cross-checked me, and I might’ve, uh, shoved him a little.”

“Jack,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “You can’t get yourself hurt. One of us in the hospital is enough.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “Don’t worry, I can take a hit. But seriously, how are you feeling? Is the pain manageable? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

You shook your head, smiling at his endless concern. “I’m fine, Jack. They’ve got me on some good meds, so I’m not feeling much pain right now.”

“Good,” he said, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if trying to detect any hidden discomfort. “Tell me if that changes, okay? If you need anything—anything at all—you call me.”

“Jack, you’re on the other side of the country,” you pointed out, your tone teasing. “What could you possibly do from there?”

“Plenty,” he said stubbornly. “I could call your coach. Or your doctor. Or the president, if I have to.”

You laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “I don’t think the president can help with a broken leg, Jack.”

“Then I’ll find someone who can,” he shot back, grinning. “I’m serious, though. Just tell me if you need anything.”

“All I need is for you to win some games,” you teased, your voice light. “That’s all the help I need.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but you could see the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. “But you love me anyway.”

By the end of the week, the calls felt like second nature. Jack would update you on his games, sharing every detail with the enthusiasm of someone desperate to distract himself from his own worries. In turn, you’d tell him about the progress you were making in the hospital, even if it was slow. You joked about how the nurses were starting to recognize him just from the sound of his voice, and he teased you about how bossy you were getting with your requests for snacks and drinks.

Through it all, Jack’s constant presence—whether through a screen or a phone call—was what kept you going. And even though he couldn’t be there in person, he made you feel as though he was never truly far away.

Finally, after what felt like the longest week of your life, the day finally arrived when Jack’s West Coast road trip came to an end. He had called you every day, just like he’d promised, but it wasn’t the same as having him by your side. Through the screen, you could see the worry etched into his face and hear it in the tone of his voice. He hated being so far away from you, and every conversation ended with him muttering how much he wished he could teleport home.

The waiting had been agonizing for both of you. Jack barely slept, the guilt of not being able to be there gnawing at him, and you had spent your days in the hospital, frustrated by your immobility and longing for his comforting presence. So when you finally got the text that he had landed and was on his way, the anticipation became almost unbearable.

You sat up in the hospital bed, your leg propped up in a brace and wrapped in layers of bandages, staring at the door like a puppy waiting for its owner to return. You heard the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway, and then the door swung open.

“Jack,” you breathed, and there he was.

He looked exhausted. His hair was messy from the flight, his eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, but the relief on his face was so palpable it nearly brought tears to your eyes. He crossed the room in three long strides, not even bothering to set his bag down before he wrapped you in the gentlest hug he could manage. His arms circled you carefully, mindful of your injuries, but the embrace was so full of love that it made your chest ache.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands. “God, I was so scared. Watching that hit… hearing you were in surgery… I didn’t know what to do. I felt so useless.”

You could see the guilt swimming in his eyes, and you shook your head, resting your hand on top of his. “Jack, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“I should’ve been here sooner,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I hate that I wasn’t here when you needed me most.”

“Stop,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “You did everything you could. You called, you checked in—Jack, I knew you were with me, even if you weren’t here physically.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his emotions flickering across his face like a storm. Then he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m here now,” he murmured, as though saying it aloud made it more real. “And I’m not leaving until you’re back on your feet.”

The first day of Jack’s visit was spent catching up—he pulled a chair close to your bed, his fingers intertwined with yours as he asked about every detail of the surgery and recovery process. He flinched when you described the pain of the initial hit and visibly winced when you told him about waking up after the surgery. His worry was written all over him, and it didn’t fade even when you assured him that you were healing.

But he didn’t just stop at sitting by your side. By the next day, Jack had transformed into a one-man care team. He brought you your favorite coffee every morning, carefully maneuvering around the hospital room as though he’d been doing it for years. He kept your water bottle full, adjusted your pillows to make sure you were comfortable, and even insisted on helping you wash your hair when you mentioned you felt gross from lying in bed for so long.

“Jack, you don’t have to do all this,” you said one evening as he helped you shift positions, your leg still immobilized in the brace. “You just got back from a road trip. You should be resting, not waiting on me hand and foot.”

He scoffed, his hands steady as he fluffed your pillows. “Resting? What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t here taking care of you?”

“A tired one?” you offered, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, but his expression softened as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “I’m exactly where I need to be. Don’t fight me on this—I’m taking care of you whether you like it or not.”

And he meant it. Jack spent every moment he wasn’t at practice by your side, helping you with the little things that had become impossible with your injury. When you were finally discharged and sent home, Jack took charge of setting up the apartment to accommodate your limited mobility. He rearranged furniture, set up a cozy corner on the couch where you could elevate your leg, and made sure your favorite snacks were within reach.

At night, when the pain was at its worst and sleep felt impossible, Jack was there. He’d sit beside you, his hand resting on your arm as he talked you through the discomfort. Sometimes he’d read to you, his voice low and soothing, and other times he’d just sit quietly, his presence enough to calm your racing thoughts.

One evening, as you lay curled up on the couch with your leg propped up on a stack of pillows, Jack sat beside you with a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant. The smell of your favorite dish filled the room, and you smiled up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” you said, watching as he carefully plated the food for you.

He looked up, his face flushing slightly. “I’m just doing what anyone would do.”

“Not everyone would fly across the country after an exhausting road trip and spend every waking moment taking care of their injured girlfriend,” you pointed out. “You’ve been… incredible, Jack. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down to kiss you, his lips lingering against yours as though he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t say. “You don’t have to go through anything alone,” he murmured. “Not as long as I’m here.”

In the weeks that followed, Jack became your rock. He helped you through the frustration of physical therapy, cheered you on as you regained strength, and reminded you every day that you were stronger than you thought. And though the road to recovery was long and grueling, the love and support Jack gave you made it feel a little less daunting.

As you sat together one evening, your head resting on his shoulder and your cast resting across his lap, you realized something profound: this injury, as difficult as it had been, had only brought you closer. Jack’s unwavering dedication had proven, without a doubt, that he was in this for the long haul. And with him by your side, you knew you could face anything.

[moonlight-alexia]

glitter hearts | s.c.

steph catley x mccabe!reader | 2.7k | your first valentine's day with Steph

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the enchanted to meet you universe. this is set before world cup surprises, their first valentine's together as a couple <3 also i am very busy until sunday but wanted a little valentine's day fic for y'all. i might have time to write an alexia x lil mac one too but no promises <3 enjoy!

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

‘Katie,’ You whispered out, ‘...Katie…’ Your older sister, unsuspecting while she slept, you had slowly crept into her room in the middle of the night. You sighed, waking up Katie had always been difficult so you started gently shaking her shoulder, ‘Katie! Wake up!’

‘What-’ Katie blinks, half sitting up, hands up ready to fight whoever is intruding in her room and in the process half pushing you back when she pushed your hands away from her.

‘Katie,’ You whispered a bit more firmly than before, but still a whisper trying to settle your sister who was still on alert.

‘Oh it’s you,’ Katie grumbled and laid back down, closing her eyes and slightly shifting her body away from you, ‘What you want?’ Turning her head back to look your direction, eyebrow slightly raised, a slight glare in her eyes.

‘Do you think she’ll like this?’ Suddenly your voice went small and you fidgeted with the little card you were holding in your hand. You weren’t nervous when you decided to come wake your sister up but now you were wondering if maybe you should’ve waited until at least a few more hours when the sun would make an appearance.

Your sister definitely would’ve been more forgiving and supportive, anyway you were here and already committed to waking her up. So you held out the card in front of her while she just gave you a questioning look, ‘Steph. Do you think Steph will like it?’

‘You woke me up at…,’ Katie blindly reached out for her phone, grimacing as the brightness of her screen lit up her face, ‘...at 3 in the morning to ask me about a…a handmade card?’

‘Katie,’ You whined out when she pushed the card back towards you, not really bothering to look at it. You, ever persistent and just as stubborn as your older sister in getting what you want, held the card back out towards her, ‘There’s more but, I didn’t want to push my luck in actually getting you out of bed,’

‘You and coming into my room in the middle of the night,’ Katie muttered under her breath, it wasn’t a common occurrence but there were plenty of times you’d woken your older sister up at all different hours of the night. Katie didn’t really mind, she’d always be there for you, your protective slightly older sister. 

Slowly but surely making a move to get out from the coziness of her blankets into the chill of the night, ‘I’m gonna have to get a lock or just kick you out. Go annoy someone else,’ The way Katie’s lips turned upwards slightly in the corner was all you needed to know she wasn’t actually being serious. You’d be the same if the roles were reversed. 

Katie’s eyes went wide when she saw the state of her dining room, ‘Not only did you wake me in the middle of the night, you woke me to show me you destroyed my house,’ 

‘You’re so dramatic,’ Rolling your eyes at your sister's comments, making your way through the scrap pieces of paper, glitter, markers and tape that littered the room, to pick up what you’d been working on, ‘So…?’  

Katie’s eyes softened the moment you stood in front of her, the little handmade gift in your arms with a dumb proud look on your face, ‘Alright, give it here,’ Katie begrudgingly held out her hand so you could give her the gift so she could look at i properly. The more she looked at it the more she couldn’t be mad with you for waking her up, in all honesty Katie could hardly be mad at you for long anyway there was just something about you that stopped almost anyone from being mad or annoyed with you for a long time.

‘Mac, Steph is gonna love this,’ You let out a soft sigh, your eyes hopeful as Katie gave the gift back to you.

‘Yeah? Are you sure?’ There was always a flicker of doubt that crossed over you. Since Alexia you struggled a lot more than you had previously, doubting your actions and second guessing the things you did. You still hadn’t properly let Steph in, struggling to get too close in case things came crashing down suddenly. 

You hadn’t been with Steph for a long time, though you know it was definitely long enough that saying ‘I love you’ would be acceptable. Steph was always understanding when it came to you, even without the little warning talk your older sister gave her, you couldn’t be more thankful. It was your first valentine’s together and you hoped that this gift would show and tell Steph that you love her, even if you couldn’t find the words to say it just yet.

You’d come a long way since you moved to England, but these little moments Katie hated when flickers of self doubt ran through your mind knowing where they’d stemmed from, ‘I’m 100% positive. Steph looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars yourself,’ You looked down, letting out a small breath, half a laugh, trying to keep your cheeks from heating up too much, ‘You could probably give her a speck of glitter and she’d talk about how she was the luckiest person in the world,’ 

Katie had definitely overheard way too many conversations Steph talking about you to Beth. At first she deliberately eavesdropped just to make sure Steph was treating you right but since then she wished she would stop running into that situation. There’s only so many times Katie can stand to hear it, especially since she has to hear it from you all the time. 

‘Yeah…yeah you’re right,’ Your smile was bashful, always was when you thought of Steph. There was a moment where you didn’t think you would ever feel this way about someone again. After a long few years, you found and let yourself have that happiness again.

‘I always am,’ Katie smirked while stifling a yawn, a reminder at how early it was and that the two of you should definitely be asleep, ‘Now my house better not look like a glitter bomb exploded when I get up later,’ You rolled your eyes as Katie made her way back up the stairs to her room but not before shouting back down at you, ‘And maybe try to get some sleep,’

‘Yes ma,’ You shouted back up at her, laughing when you heard Katie’s door shut a bit more loud than normal.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‘Stephy, hi,’ You wrapped your arms around Steph’s waist, giving her a quick little hug, greeting her since you’d just arrived at training, ‘Happy Valentine’s day,’ You spoke softly, sitting next to her so your shoulders were touching and handing her a singular rose you’d picked up on your way to training that morning.

‘Aw, happy Valentine's day,’ Steph took the rose from you, giving you a kiss on your cheek, ‘You look like you haven’t slept,’ Steph commented, her hand brushing some stray hairs back from your face, a little bit of worry etched on her face.

‘She hasn’t and neither have I,’ Katie grumbled from the other side of the room. Steph looked between the two of you, silently questioning.

‘Don’t worry about it. You know how Katie is-’

‘Dramatic,’ Steph finished off what you were saying, sharing a laugh between the two of you before you were being hit with a shoe that came at you from across the room.

‘Hey!’ Katie just shot you a look that said you had it coming before she left the pair of you, ‘Anyway, we still on for tonight?’ 

‘Of course, I wouldn't miss getting to spend a night with you,’ Steph leaned her head on your shoulder, looking down at the rose that she was still holding on to. She was trying to stay calm but still every time she was close to you, her stomach erupted in that nice fuzzy, full of butterflies kind of feeling. Steph was grateful you gave her a chance, she didn’t know everything that happened in Barcelona, but she saw a lot of the aftermath when you moved. 

After training Steph drove the two of you back to where you were staying with Katie, your hand placed on top of hers, lacing your fingers together. Katie wasn’t going to be home, you made sure of it, wanting to make your first Valentine’s day night together as special as you could. You’d already set up everything before you left this morning, triple checking everything so you didn’t forget a single thing.

‘I’m sorry we aren’t going out or doing anything particularly special,’ The nerves started taking over, you were worried that this wouldn’t be special enough, or just enough in general for Steph. You were putting a lot of pressure on yourself for tonight to be perfect.

‘Shh, love, a night in with you is perfect and just what I- we both need. I don’t care what we do, as long as I’m with you,’ Steph gently turned you so you were facing her, a hand lifting your head so you were looking at her. You could see in her eyes that she meant every word. Steph leant her forehead against yours, ‘Hi,’

You let out a giggle, brushing your nose softly against hers, ‘Hi,’ Your lips finding hers, a quick but firm kiss. Pulling away, or at least Steph tried to, but not before you pulled her back in for another little kiss, holding onto her so she wouldn’t go further than just in the doorway, ‘You gotta close your eyes,’ 

You also covered Steph’s eyes with your hands just to make sure she wouldn’t try to sneak a peek at your surprise for her. Trying to lead Steph throughout the house, whisper yelling at coopurr when he wouldn’t move out of the way, you didn’t want Steph to trip over anything and he just wasn’t cooperating with you. 

You smiled at Steph’s laughs, you’d complained about the cat quite a few times to her, how he was always out to get you but anytime Steph was around he was always an angel, but to you was a different story, ‘Leave poor Coopurr alone, he just wants to see his favourite person,’ Steph teased

‘I’ll tell Katie you said that,’ Successfully clearing the path to where you wanted to lead Steph to.

‘You wouldn’t,’ Steph had already taken her little sister from her, she wouldn’t risk Katie hearing she was taking her son too, they still had to play together.

‘Try me babe,’ You smirked when Steph gasped a little in surprise when she felt your lips on hers. Your hands slowly uncovered her eyes, resting them on her waist and pulling Steph against you. You pulled away, slightly out of breath but still holding Steph in your arms. Her eyes widened when she took a quick glance over your shoulder.

‘All that…for me?’ Steph was in shock looking at everything you had set up. A teddy bear holding a bouquet of flowers, some heart shaped chocolates and chocolate covered strawberries, heart shaped balloons and in the middle of it all were three neatly wrapped presents. Presents you’d rewrapped a million times each, wanting to make sure they were wrapped perfectly.

It really looked like a scene from those cheesy rom coms the two of you had indulged in many times together. You’d gone all out but Steph meant the world to you and you needed her to know, ‘It’s our first Valentine’s together, I wanted to make it special for you,’ You had your arm around Steph’s waist, keeping her pulled into your side while she took it all in.

‘You make every day special,’ Steph leaned her head on your shoulder, turning her head to look at you. You looked down, smiling softly at her, ‘Thank you my love,’ 

‘Anything for you Stephy,’ You whispered, the music in the background seemed dull, the two of you lost in each other, ‘So which one did you want to open first?’ You nodded towards the presents, nervous but eager to see what Steph thought of them, in particular the one you had made for her.

Steph let out a small laugh, her hand gently squeezing yours and shuffling close to you, as if she could get any closer, ‘I’ve already got my favourite present right here,’ Turning her head she brushed her lips against your neck, a shiver shot down your spine. You bit your lip, closing your eyes briefly to try to compose yourself. Though it was always hard around Steph.

‘You’re my favourite too,’ You smiled sheepishly, slight redness appearing over your cheeks. Steph kissed your neck more firmly, her lips lingering. You could feel her smile against your skin and it was enough to send your heart racing, ‘Alright, no more teasing,’ You whined softly, feeling her press more kisses against your neck.

Steph reluctantly pulled away and let you lead her to sit on the couch. Your hands shook slightly as you picked up the present you’d spent hours making, hoping that holding onto it would make the shaking less noticeable. You knew Steph noticed when her eyes softened, though to be fair to Steph her eyes always softened when she looked at you but you could tell there was something different behind her eyes.

‘Hey,’ Steph spoke softly, her hand resting against your thigh once you’d sat next to her, ‘It’s just me,’ She smiled at you reassuringly. You relaxed as much as you could almost instantly, the effect Steph had on you, you both loved and felt terrified over it. 

‘I just really hope you’ll like it,’ You looked down, placing the gift on Steph’s lap, ‘And if you don’t- I- There’s a few more, maybe you’ll like one of those,’ Nervously you rambled, a habit that would overcome you every time you got nervous or anxious. 

‘Mac baby, it’s from you,’ Steph held the present, her smile never wavering, ‘I’m going to love it,’ You nodded your head, taking a deep breath. You still hated how unsure of yourself you could get, maybe one day you’ll get back to being your usually confident self more often than not. 

While Steph was opening the present, your eyes were glued to your hands, not wanting to see any potential rejection at the present you made. Though what you really missed was Steph’s mouth opening in surprise, the few little tears that welled up in the corners of her eyes and the love she looked at every page with. 

You spent hours putting together a little scrapbook. A scrapbook that held all the memories and love you had for each other. From the trips and memories you made while you were ‘just friends’ to the last few months that you’d officially been together for. You included Steph’s favourite colours amongst the markers, paper and glitter that you used. Lots of hearts over each page. So many photos of the two of you from over the last year.

‘Wow- I-’ Steph couldn’t find the words to tell you how much it meant to her. Your eyes wide when you finally looked her way, expecting to see a form of hatred or disgust, instead you were met with her lips on yours. 

Blindly Steph put the scrapbook to the side, pushing you down against the couch, your lips never leaving each other. Your hands found their way to her hips, fingers grazing underneath the hem of her shirt, dancing along Steph’s bare skin. Steph put all of her emotion and feelings for you into the kiss, deepening it, pressing herself against you more.

Your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen when you finally broke away from each other, besides for the little pecks you’d both give, never getting enough, ‘So you liked it…’ You let out a breathy laugh, voice trailing off still getting your breath back.

‘More than liked it babe,’ Steph’s hand rested against your cheek, her thumb rubbing gently, ‘You’re too sweet and thoughtful. I really like you…’ 

‘I really like you too,’ There was a look of understanding shared in that moment. The words you both wanted to say were on the tips of your lips, even though neither of you actually said it, you could see it in each other's eyes and that was enough for now.

[evolnoomym]

Dirty Little Secret 🗝️

Dad’s Boss!Joel Miller x F!Reader

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: Joel likes his employees daughter just a little too much. He really tried to not give in but one fateful evening Joel loses control.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 0.8k

Authors note: No thoughts, just horny. Perhaps Yoga pants kink ??? What do we thinkkkkk??? I’m not promising for this to be amazing. I literally wrote it down in lightspeed.

Warnings: no y/n, F!OC, age-gap, FathersBoss!Joel Miller, dub con, thigh fucking, dry humping, yoga pants fetish???, Joel being a horny lonely dude, he’s sleazy

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the divider 🫶🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🫶🏻

Amongst the many things Joel shouldn’t do in his position, that being the boss of a successful contracting company, the worst is most likely lusting after the daughter of his favorite employee. You.

A stunning 22 year old sunshine. Something about that warmth made his cock swell again and again. How many times did you simply smile at him, resulting in Joel trying to tame his erection in the bathroom. Though he never finished, or was more was not able to. All his cock wanted was you, but just the mental image was not enough to quench his need.

It began innocently. Running into you when you brought your dad his forgotten lunch, short talks about whatever you could think of and giving you a tour of the company. Being the good girl that you are, you made sure to bring lunch for Joel too and for that alone he wanted to fuck your brains out.

He noticed that yoga pants, precisely those incredible skin tight ones, were your most liked attire to wear. You seem to own them in an array of colors and designs

Unprofessional is also to give an internship to you without paying attention to your skills or experience. He would hire you if you’d ask, he’d do anything and by now he had accepted the slight unhealthy obsession.

Even though Joel loves having you close to him, watching you walk away from him was so much better. Your butt cheeks jiggling so enticingly always leaves him Hard. Painfully so, he hadn’t gotten the chance to sink into a tight, wet and warm hole in forever so his lust was building up each day you tempted him.

Tonight however, he is gonna explode. Joel had watched you enter the cozy little work get-together earlier with your dad. Of course you wear one of those tight yoga pants again, these darn pieces of fabric leave nothing left to the imagination.

Sometimes Joel questions if you’re even wearing underwear. He sits in his office, not drawing up building plans and instead imagining your pussy rubbing against the seam all day.

He drifts off so far that he envisions sniffing and licking those pants after you wore them, these horny thoughts eat away at him.

It all boils over when he sees you slipping into the office of your dad, a chance for him, in there he can finally catch you all alone.

He trails after you carefully, watches you round the corners and bend over the table once you enter his room. A simple action that causes even more of his thoughts to stray, it’s the delicious curves of your ass, how they mold into the crotch where your puffy lips are so visible under the stretched fabric.

It all happens almost as if in trance, he pushes the door shut, locks it. Before you even have the chance to turn around he’s on you, pushing your front down on the table.

He’s tugging his zipper down, freeing his impressive throbbing length and drags his leaking tip all over your clothed butt-cheek.

“Sorry, babygirl, i couldn’t handle seein’ you prance around in those ridiculous pants.” Each word is emphasized with a thrust of his hips into your backside. His hands have a bruising grip on your hips.

“M..Mr.Miller, what are you doing?” You sound frightened and Joel can’t blame you but he has no intention to stop.

“Havin’ some fun, baby, I can make it good for you too,huh?” He humps you for a brief moment before pushing his shiny head between your clenched thighs.

“This is wrong, Mr.Miller you need to stop.” Joel might believe you’re actually telling him off, but the way your voice quivers doesn’t convince him. You don’t wanna get caught but the cock of your father’s boss doesn’t bother you.

“Shh, sweetheart, i can feel how wet you are, don’t lie to me.” The wet spandex material is offering the perfect amount of friction.

Joel can feel the telltale warmth in his groin of a pending orgasm. This might be over swiftly but he’ll make sure it won’t be the only time.

“I’m gonna come, sweetheart, paint those nice pants a lil white, huh, how bout’ that?”

Joel is on cloud nine, rambling in horny stupor.

“I’ll make a mess of you, my good little slut,” and that’s all it takes. He’s groaning loudly, frantically shaking from the harsh unloading of his heavy balls.

Unfortunately he can’t bask in the moment because he hears your father’s voice call for him. He tugs his length back into his jeans, closes his zipper and turns to leave, but not before landing a smack to your buttocks.

“That ass is a fucking present,” he leans down to your ear and whispers “can’t wait to unpack it.”

©️ evolnoomym 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[moonmunson]

hello my old heart

a/n: wally clark has invaded my brain space and i cannot seem to rid him from my mind his himbo charms have seduced me. just in my mind this is set in the late '90s, but mr. martin isn't evil. none of the other kids are really mentioned by name, but this would be a few years after charley's death. as always i'm writing with a plus sized!reader in mind but anyone can read it.

summary: struggling with becoming comfortable in death, wally has made himself your new buddy.

cw: general angst and sadness over being dead, wally is a sweetheart who just wants to help. hurt/comfort with a sweet ending and a little bit of kissing. gn!reader, theatre kid x jock

wc: 2.1k

You think you’ve been dead for a little over a week. It’s hard to tell - time moves so differently here. It feels like static on the skin, the way the TV screen feels fuzzy when you touch it after it's been turned off. You haven’t spoken much, and the other dead kids don’t expect you to for a while. They’ve all told you that everyone reacts differently to their death, that there’s no right or wrong way to cope. 

You’re worried that if you open your mouth, it’ll be difficult to stop crying. Or screaming, or both. So you sit quietly in the circle in the gymnasium, listening as Mr. Martin leads the support group meeting. You’re appreciative of his trying to get you to open up, but you’re only capable of responding in nods and shrugs. When it’s over, you go to make your way back to the auditorium. It might be weird to some, considering you died there, but it’s still the place you feel the safest.

A few steps out of the gym, you hear pounding footsteps coming up next to you. It’s Wally, because of course it is. He’s dubbed himself your ‘Unofficial death guide.’ He’s the sweetest, and you wish you could actively participate in conversation with him. 

“You goin’ back to the auditorium?” When he talks, you have to crane your head to the right and all the way up because he’s so fucking tall. You nod, and he parrots it. 

“I don’t know how you can go back to that place. I couldn’t even look at the football field for like a week after I died.” Even when you don’t respond, Wally keeps going. “I also don’t know how you stand sharing a space with Mina. She's, like, totally scary.” He makes a face then, pinched up, like he’s imagining being trapped in a room with the other, objectively more aggressive theatre ghost.

It makes you giggle. Like, audibly giggle. Wally’s eyes widen, surprised that he was able to get a noise out of you. He laughs in return, a breathless exhale. He’s clearly proud of himself. 

“I have got to get you to do that again.” You shake your head no, even though the smile hasn’t left your face. “I’m serious, I have got to hear that laugh again!” 

When you round the corner near the front office, you stop in your tracks, the smile on your face quickly fading. Your mom and dad are there, holding a box with everything that was in your locker. It’s a weird feeling. You hadn’t forgotten you were dead, obviously, but everything had felt very up in the air.

Like the moment before a show starts - everyone sitting in the audience, the curtain still down to block the view of actors taking their places. Like limbo. Seeing your parents, their tear stricken faces, that makes it feel real. Too real. The sharp breath you take in alerts Wally to the fact that something is wrong, and he follows your gaze to the two adults standing at the front desk. 

“Oh shit, are those your parents?” Wally asks, his voice taking a softer tone. He has a volume control problem, everyone knows it, and you’re appreciative that he’s quieted down for this.

You nod, a small jerk of your head. He brings a tentative hand up to your shoulder, and when you don’t move away, he places it more firmly. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am. Do you wanna go up and see them?” 

You don’t answer, you just walk away. Wally calls after you, but doesn’t follow. 

The auditorium truly is your safe space. You were never brave enough to actually perform anything, though your teacher had begged you to. She’d heard you singing to yourself one day, and asked why you’d never auditioned for anything. You’d just deflected and said the stage fright would make you freeze. She’d been understanding, but encouraged you to think about auditioning for the show this year. 

You were a senior, it’d been your last opportunity to be in the spotlight, but by the time auditions came around you’d chickened out. The hidden disappointment on your teacher’s face wasn’t so hidden, but she made sure you had your usual spot on the tech and run crew portion of the show.

You died a few weeks later, tripping off of the stage while setting up a set piece and breaking your neck falling into the orchestra pit. Like a sick fucking joke. 

Now, you sit in the audience, gazing at the stage. It’s still blocked off by crime tape. The show for the end of the year has been effectively cancelled on account of your dying. ‘Postponed indefinitely’ is the term the overhead announcements had used, but you all knew what that actually meant. It just wasn’t gonna happen. 

You mostly just feel numb. Obviously your death isn’t something you could ever prepare for, and just like every other ghost in the building, your life had been unfairly cut short. Just like everyone else, you’d had plans for the rest of your life. None of them solid or reliable, but you’d had some idea of what you wanted your life to look like. A well paying job that you genuinely enjoyed, maybe a husband or wife and a few kids. All of that is gone now. 

Your parents in the front office felt like a kick to the gut, salt in the wound. The look on your mom’s face, the way your dad was cradling the box of your things like if he held tight to it enough it would bring you back.. it was too much to bear.

And Wally, sweet, kind, Wally. He’s been trying really hard with you, and you can’t even work up the nerve to say something to him. To thank him for being there for you, or answer any of the many questions or jokes he throws your way. 

You don’t even realize the tears are streaming down your face until they drip onto your hands in your lap. Once you feel the first one, the rest fall in quick succession and before you know it, you’re audibly sobbing in the empty theatre. It’s almost embarrassing, the way your cries echo because of the acoustics. 

Wally comes in quietly, and sits down next to you. You’ve been too preoccupied to notice anything other than your tears, heavy and streaking down your cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He’s warm, and when you grab the front of his sweatshirt, he holds you tighter.

It takes a while for you to calm down - you’d been holding everything in for too long - you were bound to bubble over and explode at some point. When you feel yourself come back to your body, Wally is still holding you. He’s stroking your head and whispering comforts to you. You don’t deserve him, you think.

He’s still rubbing your back when you pull away to look at him, but you’re distracted by the wet spot on his sweatshirt - the light grey darkened by your tears. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your voice cracking from how long it’s been since you’ve spoken, “I’m sorry.”

Wally’s eyes widen, not prepared for you to start talking, and he jumps to console you. “Woah, hey, don’t even worry about it. This ratty old thing? I’ve been wearing it for like, almost twenty years.” He giggles a bit, continuing, “I honestly think this is the closest this thing has been to a washing machine even longer than that, so. No sweat, promise.”

You nod, thanking him. 

“Are you, like…” he trails off, not sure how to ask you if you’re okay. It’s a silly question, he knows that. “I remember the first time I saw my parents after I died. There was a vigil on the football field like a week after it happened. Everyone was there, and they were all crying and it was so weird. I didn’t feel dead yet, like I hadn’t accepted that it really happened.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you, Wally. I’m really sorry.” Your eyes meet, and he shrugs.

He smiles, a sad, nostalgic thing. He can’t tell you it’s okay, because it’s not. Instead, he goes to hold your hand. “I promise it will get better. It just takes some time. It’s gonna suck for a while, but we’re all here for you. I’m here for you.” His thumb rubs circles on the top or your hand, and you smile up at him. 

“Thanks, Wally. I really appreciate it.” Your interconnected hands are grounding you. It’s the first time you’ve felt a semblance of peace since you died. “Do you mind if we sit here for a little bit? It’s quiet, I don’t want to leave yet.” He nods, and the two of you just sit there.

Just like Wally said it would, it gets easier.

You start going to more of the meetings with Mr. Martin, and you actually start participating. It was weird at first - you thought people would make a big deal out of your finding your voice again, but they just smiled, proud of your growth. Wally has been your biggest cheerleader, but they’re all really supportive. Even Rhonda, though she still sports her gloomy demeanor. 

When they fix up the stage and clear the crime scene tape, the school holds your vigil there. Wally is right there with you in the audience, holding your hand while your parents speak. Your theatre teacher speaks too, and talks highly of you. Your brightness, the passion you had for theatre. When she says you had a beautiful voice, that you could’ve been somebody, she directs it at your parents. They agree, it seems. 

There are still days where it's really hard. You retreat back into your shell, refusing to leave the auditorium or speak to anyone. Wally's patience with you is endless, and when you allow him to stay with you, he spends all day cracking jokes to help you feel better.

One day, instead of letting you isolate yourself, he drags you out onto the football field to get some sun. "We don't really need vitamin D anymore, but I really think it'll help. C'mon, the sun on your skin? Wind in your hair? Can't beat that, babe." He leads you out onto the field - one hand clasped in yours and the other holding a backpack.

The pet names are a new thing, but you don't mind it. He'd slipped one day, called you sweetheart, and immediately backtracked and apologized profusely. All you could do was laugh and call him cute.

"Where did you even get that?" you giggle, following him to a spot under a tree near the edge of the field. "Did you steal that from someone?"

He drops your hand to bring it to his own chest, offended at your assumption. "Me? Steal? I can't believe you'd think so lowly of me," he plops onto the grass, patting the spot next to him, "Yeah I totally stole it, emptied it out, and then filled it with a shit ton of snacks and drinks so we could have a picnic out here." He unzips the bag, pulling out at least ten different bags of chips and candy bars.

"This is really sweet, Wally," you can feel your face heat up, though hopefully it'll just look like it's because of the heat. "It's like a date, almost." His head shoots up to look at you, pink dusting his cheeks and ears.

"Y-yeah, if you want it to be. If you think you're ready for that kind of thing." He stutters, a nervous boyish thing. He's the sweetest person ever.

“I am, I think,” you nod while you’re talking, like you’ve made up your mind, “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” Wally ducks his head down, chin meeting his chest. He’s fully blushing now - it’s the cutest thing you’ve seen in a long time. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and maneuvering your body so your back is pressed up against his chest, head resting in the space between his head and shoulder, “is this okay?” 

You turn your head to try and look at him, and he angles his towards you. His face is inches from yours, and if you had a heartbeat, it’d be beating wildly right now. You can almost feel it, the pitter patter of it in your chest. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the space under his eye. You nod, and move in to kiss him. 

His lips are so soft, and the way they move in conjunction with yours provides much needed relief. You stay like that for a few minutes, and when you’re done, he rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, feeling the gentle breeze sweeping up the hill you’re sitting on. You never had anything like this when you were still alive, the easy conversation and back and forth banter. He’s your new safe space. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with him. 

“This is perfect.”

a/n: wally clark is actually so special to me and when i think about him for too long i get very emotional. my shayla. i wrote this in the span of like a day and a half so if there are any mistakes i'm sorry LMAO

if you liked this story, please like and reblog!! it'd mean the world to me, even if you just drop a silly comment. i want to write more for wally because he desperately needs more stories on here.

[parvulous-writings]

Coud you please do a Vi SFW?

Warnings: None!

Notes: We're returning to our roots with this one gang   My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too! If you’d like to support me more, consider reblogging! I’d appreciate it loads!!

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Vi's affection is mainly shown through physical means. An arm around your shoulders, a hand grasping for yours - all the way to cuddling and tangling herself with you on a sofa or a bed. She loves having your near to her - particularly in private. When you're alone together, she finds a way or excuse to touch you 90% of the time. In public, she's a lot more respectful of your personal space, choosing to mostly just stand nearby rather than have her hands all over you. The only time this changes is if someone who isn't herself starts getting too close to you, whether it's being flirty or threatening you. If this is the case, she makes a show of putting an arm around your waist or shoulders, making it painfully clear that you are with her.

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

Vi is one of those friends that can quickly become a ride or die. She is willing to do a hell of a lot for those who are near and dear to her, be that helping with heavy lifting, spending quality time, or putting someone into their place. It's more than likely that your friendship started after bumping into Vi post-street brawl. Though bristly at first, she easily warms to you, once you've shown her you're worthy of trust.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Vi does love a cuddle; typically, when cuddling in bed she prefers being the big spoon, allowing her to encase you in her arms and give her absolute certainty that you're safe and away from harm. If you're on the sofa, though, she very much enjoys laying over you - like a big blanket of muscle.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

Vi grew up with a rather close-knit family unit, and deep down a part of her does miss that, so she would want to settle down - even if it's not necessarily with kids or anything of that ilk. Just having a place to call home with you would be good enough for her. She can't cook particularly well; it's passable and edible, sure, but she's not usually proud of it. The same with her cleaning - sometimes she just doesn't think to do it. She was in prison through her teens - there wasn't really anything to clean, so trying to get that into her routine is.... Difficult.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She would be incredibly blunt with it. She'd try to somewhat save your feelings, but I don't think she'd beat around the bush. If it's not working out, what's the point in trying to force things to keep going, even if it's just a few extra minutes? She's also not great at verbally expressing her emotions, so this just adds to her bluntness.

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)   

Vi is fine with commitment as a whole; but the idea of marriage carries a heavy sense of finality to her. She's not really likely to leave you as-is, why do you need to go through the fuss and stress of getting married? For a piece of paper? In her head, something like that is a privilege - something that mainly those from Piltover get to do. If you really insist on marriage she'll oblige you, but she doesn't need a marriage to feel or be committed to you.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Vi doesn't have much trouble being gentle physically: a few careful touches here and there, cradling your face when you're having an intimate moment or holding you close when you're having a particularly stressful day. It's more the emotional side of things where she struggles a bit. Not all the time, but there are moments where she has trouble expressing herself in the way she wants to to you, or struggles in showing a more vulnerable side of herself.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

The most common time to get a hug from Vi is when she's saying goodbye - or that she'll see you in a little while. They're quite quick, and she makes sure to squeeze you tightly every time, as if she's trying to imprint the feel of you against her into her mind. Outside of those times you're more likely to get a cuddle than anything else.

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

She's very reluctant to say it. It's not that she doesn't love you, it more that expressing that love in a verbal way makes her incredibly nervous. She does say it from time to time; birthdays, special holidays, in the dead of night where and when there's no one else that could possibly hear her. It takes her a good few years, and slow working, to start saying it when other people are around - even if they're out of earshot.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Vi trusts you. She knows that you wouldn't leave her without saying anything, and that if anything were to happen, you'd talk to her about it. However, this doesn't stop that stab of jealousy that she feels in her chest whenever she sees someone getting too close to you for her comfort. Her first port of call is to go to you, get close and establish her boundary - usually a hand snaking around your waist and tugging you to her. Then, if the situation continues, she gets verbal - usually snapping at whoever dare try to take you from her; even if it's nothing like that.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Vi's kisses can go one of two ways; 1 - it's a brief peck on the lips or your cheek, so quick that you end up debating with yourself if it actually happened - Vi had gone right back to whatever she had been doing before, it was like she hadn't stopped her task. 2 - It's full of heat, passion, and you are not getting away from her any time soon - leaving that kind of kiss breathless is the bare minimum. She is grabbing whatever flesh of yours she can hold, pulling and keeping you close to her. That woman is not letting you go without some major resistance - she needs you too much.

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

Vi is pretty good around kids. If you're leaving kids with her for an extended period of time, you need to set some firm boundaries. Like. Make it abundantly clear what can and cannot be done with the kids - otherwise there will be chaos. Vi is very much like that aunt you can get away with almost anything around. She won't actively take you to seek out activities to break set rules, but if the kids were to break said rules by themselves? Well they've done it now, there's not a whole lot she can do, right?

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

By the time you wake up, Vi is usually awake already - sometimes by several hours. She's used to rising incredibly early, and although she doesn't always physically get out of bed that early anymore, she does still spend that time doing something she finds productive. Namely watching you sleep. The reason she doesn't immediately get up is because, if you're sharing a bed with her, she usually wakes up tangled with you in some way or another. Play your cards right, and she'll spend half the morning keeping you in bed just for an excuse to hold you close - she does love herself a cuddle in bed.

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Most nights you have to actively try and coax Vi into bed. The means can - and kind of have to - vary, but Vi normally tries to resist for a little while. She's one of those people who tries and stays up as late as she can physically manage, as a way to try and reclaim some of her own time. When you get past your mild frustration, though, and take a more tender approach, that's when she will usually come to bed, cuddling as close as physically possible, to try and soothe herself to sleep.

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

From time to time. She'll often say if something reminds her of a family member who has passed, or share a memory that's sprung to mind that she thinks you may enjoy. When it comes to genuinely being vulnerable, and sharing her deeper, harder to process emotions, she does struggle. She doesn't know what to do with all those years of pent up hurt and pain. She tries her best, but she doesn't want to end up lashing out.

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

In day to day life? Not particularly quick to anger; mistakes in chores or delays in the daily schedule aren't much of a big deal to her. Sure, they can be a bit annoying sometimes, but they can be fixed or accommodated. Under pressure, though, is entirely different. When stressed and pressed for, well, anything, Vi becomes snappy, harsh, and her temper has one hell of a short fuse. She doesn't get physical, but she's usually 2 seconds away from saying something that she will probably regret once she calms down.

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

She easily remembers some of the basic things; your favourite colour, your favourite food, the things you like in general. She's... A little bit scattered when it comes to things like your birthday, though - she oftentimes confuses it with your anniversary. She means well, she just hasn't really got the head for dates. She'll get you a gift you like on both days, though! She rarely ever forgets completely.

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

The first time she opened up properly to you. You'd been together a fair while, so she took you on a walk through the Lanes, eventually winding up where you could see the few remaining markers of her younger siblings. The splodges of red paint left behind by Mylo, the place where Claggor had gotten himself stuck when on the run from enforcers. She even told you of when she had brought Jinx - Powder, back then - to this very spot in an attempt to lift her spirits. She told you of her birth mother and father, of Vander, and how her family life had just gone progressively more and more downhill - and you listened. You didn't butt in, you didn't try and force her to see 'the bright side'. You sat, you held her hand, and you listened. There are no words that she can use to describe her gratitude to you for that moment.

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Quite - Vi often worries about how you might need to defend yourselves or escape a situation. It's not because she doesn't trust you to handle yourself - she does, she thinks you could talk down or weasel out of any situation, and she knows you'll bolt if you really need to - but it is something she worries about a lot, and something that does frequently come up if there's a disagreement.

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

Vi tries quite a bit. In her eyes, you deserve more, so she does try. She'll try and keep the place tidy-ish - tidy to her standards, anyway - and do some cooking every now and again. She tries much more in ways of gifts, though - though perhaps not always what you think they may be, she always makes an effort to point out how useful it could be to you, or if it's something more sentimental, how it made her think of you.

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

She puts her shoes on furniture - whether she's still wearing them or has just taken them off. It gets mud and dirt everywhere. She also tends to forget to put dishes away once you've washed them up (she also forgets to wash them up fairly frequently).

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not a whole lot - she works out quite a lot, but that's more for her own health and strength. She keeps herself as clean as she can - washing her face, bating etcetera, but other than that, not a whole lot. She sometimes has the urge to change her hair, but that's more of an emotionally motivated decision. All in all, so long as you think that she looks good, she's more than happy with her appearance.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You're ingrained into her routine now - she'd definitely feel your absence if you were gone for any length of time; she doesn't like when you're not there in the morning to hold or to greet when she wakes up. Even if it's not a full separation, and you're just out somewhere for the night, she feels it deep in her.

X - Xtra (Random HC)

She loves when you touch her - not necessarily in a sexual way, or even in hugs, but the feeling of your hands on her brings her much joy and comfort. You tracing the planes of her skin or the ink of her tattoos is one of her favourite ways to wind down, and having your fingers brush through her hair (especially when they brush against her undercut)? Pure. Heaven. Simple as. If she's having a really bad day, that is a surefire way to cheer her up.

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

Someone who doesn't stick to their word, or to their morals. She loves seeing reliability and someone being steadfast; if she doesn't see that, she doesn't feel like she can wholly trust someone. And of course, without trust, there can be no real love. Other than that, if she can get a good connection with someone, everyone's fair game, really.

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)  

Vi only sleeps the minimal amount that she needs to to keep her true self or be able to perform tasks. She finds it incredibly difficult to get to sleep without being thoroughly exhausted first; so part of the coaxing that you have to do involves working out - a good, reliable way to tire her out. She also doesn't need a lot in terms of possessions; so long as she has somewhere to lay, she's able to get some sleep. Though, on the odd occasion that she does try to sleep on the floor, you're eventually able to drag her groggy self into your shared bed, mostly with promises of affection and cuddles.

[pukefactory]

can i req a low battery/hungry vee x reader 🫶

⊹⊱•••《 FLICKERING MONITORS 》•••⊰⊹

⍟ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring the reader helping Vee with a low battery charge

⍟ Character(s): Vee Version 1 (Dandy’s World)

⍟ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

⍟ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

☇ Vee rarely shows weakness, but when her battery is low, she has no choice but to slow down. Her usual confident demeanor falters, her movements become sluggish, and her screen flickers between dim green hues. At first, she tries to brush it off, refusing to acknowledge that she’s running on empty. It isn’t until you step in—placing a hand on her arm and telling her, point-blank, to sit down—that she finally listens.

☇ Her usual sharp wit is dulled when she’s low on power. If she tries to throw out a sarcastic remark, it often trails off before she can finish, leaving her blinking at the empty space in front of her. You can’t help but find it amusing, but you also know better than to tease her about it—unless you want to be on the receiving end of her unimpressed glare once she recharges.

☇ When she’s on the verge of shutting down, Vee becomes more honest than usual. She lacks the energy to filter herself, so you’ll occasionally catch her mumbling absentminded thoughts. Once, after you guided her to sit against the Gardenview tree, she muttered, “You’re… good at this. Taking care of me.” You were about to ask her to repeat that, but by the time you turned to her, her screen had already faded to black.

☇ She hates feeling vulnerable, but she trusts you enough to let you see her like this. Even in her exhausted state, she makes sure you don’t worry too much. “It’s just a power save mode,” she insists, waving a sluggish hand. “Nothing to get all emotional about.” But you notice the way she leans into your touch, seeking comfort despite her words.

☇ Her tail, usually animated and twitching with energy, goes completely still when her battery is critically low. If you try to nudge it or lift it slightly, it flops back down with zero resistance. The first time this happened, you half-jokingly told her it was kind of cute. She immediately fixed you with a half-lidded stare and deadpanned, “I’m moments from collapsing, and this is what you focus on?”

☇ When her battery dips too low, her voice starts glitching. The confident, smooth tone she usually carries stutters and distorts into robotic fragments. She loathes it, which is why she starts speaking less when she’s running on fumes. You quickly catch on and start filling the silence yourself, telling her about your day or rambling about something you know she enjoys. Even if she doesn’t respond, you can tell she’s listening.

☇ If she shuts down completely, you stay beside her the entire time. Whether she’s leaned against your shoulder or lying still with her tail curled beside her, you refuse to leave until she powers back on. The first time she woke up to see you still sitting there, half-asleep but keeping watch, she was silent for a long moment before muttering, “You really are something else.”

☇ Despite her exhaustion, she’s still as stubborn as ever. If you try to carry her somewhere more comfortable, she will protest. “I can walk,” she grumbles, even as her limbs threaten to give out. You ignore her complaints and continue supporting her weight, much to her exasperation. Secretly, though, she appreciates it more than she’ll ever admit.

☇ Once she’s fully recharged, she acts as if nothing ever happened. If you bring up how worried you were, she just shrugs and says, “See? I told you I’d be fine.” But later, when she thinks you’re not paying attention, she shoots you a brief, grateful glance before quickly looking away.

☇ After her battery incident, she begrudgingly lets you keep track of her power levels. “It’s not like I need you to do this all the time,” she insists, arms crossed. “But since you’re so insistent on hovering, I guess I’ll allow it.” Of course, she doesn’t stop you when you check on her throughout the day. And if you ever gently remind her to recharge before it gets bad again, she just sighs and mutters, “Fine, fine. Don’t worry so much.”

[gadzin-a]

This one's for all of my uni girlies that get fucked up by their exams studying sessions (it's me, I'm the girlies)

tw: none, slight touching and suggestive stuff just at the end, Simon is in his late 30s, reader's in her mid 20s

olderboyfriend!Simon, whose girlfriend is still in uni, getting her degree. Wether it's MA or PhD, you work as hard as you can. Of course you have a part time job, but you still come to classes, work on assignments and take exams at the end of each semester, focusing more on studying than anything else. And for Simon it's so adorable

He never thought of going to uni himself – his life was always military and that was it. Seeing how much effort it takes to get a passing grade still surprises him. And don't get me wrong – Simon is a smart, intelligent lad, of course he'd do well at university just like you do – it's just that he prefers physical, dirty work, not academic stuff

But seeing you so tired, with dark circles under your eyes, and messy hair – he understands that uni life is tough in its own way. Especially during the exams session, which you take very seriously

You're sitting at the kitchen table, a big ass mug full of coffee on your right, your laptop and several different notes on display as you do your best to memorise difficult terminology. It's late, really late, and you are so tired and overstimulated, but you keep trying. The oral exam is in two days and you know you can't fuck it up

He sneaked behind you and put some biscuits on the kitchen table. Something sweet to snack on was just the thing you needed, he knows you so well

And Simon, being your supportive, caring boyfriend, is so proud of you, seeing how hard you try to get that degree and have a fulfilling, successful career

'How you're doing, love?'

'Poorly, Simon, just poorly' you sigh and hide your face in your hands. There's no better answer than this one

'C'mon, can't be tha' bad, can it?' he coos, his big hands now on your shoulders to massage those sore muscles a bit

'You're right, it's not that bad, but I'm so tired...' you slightly lean back, letting him spoil you a bit 'I don't know how much longer this is going to take, but I'm gonna get that fucking perfect grade'

Simon just hums with content and gives you a kiss on the top of your head. You are so smart, studying so hard and doing so well for your own, better future. He admires how stubborn you can be - in the military there's no room for slacking either and he definitely can appreciate putting a lot of effort into a job well-done

He's kissing your hair again and again, slowly going down with every next one, placing them on your nape and shoulders, where the fabric of your jumper leaves the skin bare. His big hands sneak under your clothes, now his fingers massaging your breasts, toying with your nipples teasingly. You moan silently and reach behind to grab Simon by his short, blond hair. Your breath is getting faster and a bit more shallow, your pussy getting wet with his touch

'Atta girl, study for your school a bit more, yeah?'

'Unless you wanna take a break?'

[saint-luigi-of-fiji]

They can't kill Luigi.

No, they literally, truly cannot. The fact we have made him smile, that he says he's cried happy tears and felt overwhelmed in the best way possible, that he 'knows it will be okay.' The fact that he is enjoying receiving and responding to letters. That he is aware of and appreciative of the donations. I hope he understands that his life hasn't been wasted. That his 'potential' hasn't been wasted. That there is no "he could have done something with his life;" he did. He already has. Even if they take it away. Even in the worst case scenario that he gets martyred by the fucking state. He is aware of how much he is loved, and cherished by the entire world, and of how much of a hero he is to us all. Keep writing to him so he can read it every day.

Nothing they ever do to him, or to any one of us, nor to his nor our rights, will ever take away the joy and solidarity and hope we feel. They can control your life, the narrative, the wordage, the history. They can lock any of us behind bars. They can try, and try, and devote the next hundred plus years to scrubbing his name from the history books should they continue to loathe us. But they can't control your spirit. And no matter what they do, they have failed and will continue to fail to crush his as well.

Whether he is here on this Earth for a long time, or a tragically short one, should they take this wonderful young man from this Earth, the impact he has made is already immeasurably great. And in no small way, every single one of us is part of that. He is lifting all of us up with him, and we are all lifting him up with us. We achieve through solidarity and support, because of him, what individually none of us could. And he achieves the same because of us.

They can never undo the miraculous and wonderful things he has already brought to this world. He is the human spirit. As are all of the rest of us. They can't kill the human spirit.

They can't kill Luigi. It's not something that is possible.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 22 - The hero Gala

Summary: The cat is out of the bag - Izuku is in trouble.

Warnings: swear words, mentions of sexual shenanigans, angst - IM SORRY GUYS

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

1st Chapter Master List Support the potato

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Izuku’s friends tried their best to change Izuku’s mind about the whole Gala situation but their words fell on deaf ears every time; Izuku was adamant that he has no rights to be there and no one could change his mind, not even you.

There was a weird tension in the air between you two after the trip was over; Izuku went back into his shell right as you opened the door to his apartment and the only time you managed to make him smile was when you sneaked under his covers and cheekily kissed his thighs while giggling to yourself like a child or other cheeky shenanigans. Apparently, Izuku adores moments like that; when he is loved, appreciated, without the need to prove himself worthy. Izuku loves to be loved, especially by you, and even though you never ask for anything back he’s always keen to do the same for you and by the look of it, he enjoys it just as much as he enjoys “receiving”.

“Sweets, love me.” Izuku mutters into your neck on a sunny afternoon, right before the hero Gala. First, you have a slight urge to laugh and remind the greenette that you love him every day but then you realize his whole body is rigid and you stay quiet.

Something is wrong and that something is connected to the hero gala, you are sure of it, but you don’t ask questions; you just let your fingers rake through Izuku’s messy locks, you play with his scalp and the back of his ears, and Izuku closes his eyes and sighs, his breaths long, deep and full of lust.

“You like it when I play with your hair?” You finally ask him, and Izuku blushes like a schoolboy.

“A little bit too much, to be honest.” He giggles. “But it works. I don’t think there is enough blood left in my brain to overthink.” Izuku sheepishly admits.

This conversation makes you think about your first time with Izuku; it has only been a few days since but you feel like you’ve been intimate with him for so much longer; it just feels so right to be together in that way, to show how much you love the other without the need of words. On that first day, you grabbed Izuku’s hair from the back and pulled it, and the sweet sound Izuku had made will forever live in your head rent free. Seeing Izuku vulnerable and worked up is your new favorite thing; mostly, because you know that with you, he can let himself go completely, clear his mind and just be himself. It’s good for you and it’s good for him.

But you also start to get concerned that your random acts of love became a way for him to distract himself from this problem he’s facing right now and you really don’t want this new kind of love to become a bad memory for him.

“Can I be honest with you?” You mumble into his hair, a little bit terrified to continue.

“Sweets, of course.”

“I… I’m scared.” You admit. “I feel like I’ve made a mistake. I’ve been trying to cheer you up and make you happy but I feel like… now, every time you feel anxious you try to… well.. get cheeky with me but I want these moments to be happy, to be about us… I might be selfish, but…”

“Stop.” Izuku jumps into your words, a little bit offended. “I would never use your body for such a thing and if I ever do, I’ll tell you and ask for your permission to do that. You are the love of my life and while yeah, it is a really good way to distract myself from the turmoil in my head, the only thing I think about during our time together is you and you only. Us doing things so frequently since has nothing to do with my anxiety. I just love loving you. I love how there is no one but us in those moments. I love the way you feel, the way you smell, I love to see how much you enjoy my touches. It’s like a drug to me. Please, never say such thing ever again because it breaks my heart.” Izuku finally finishes and you feel terrible now.

“I’m so sorry, Izu, I just…”

“You just don’t understand how much I love you. And I get that. It’s hard to understand that you can mean so much to another person. Even if you are… mentally okay… everyone is a bit judgmental when it comes to their own self.” Izuku smiles and kisses your lips to prove his point even further. “But Sweets, you are everything to me. Even if the world falls apart, even is loose all my memories, I’ll forever come back to you. There is no path in life where I don’t end up right here at the end of the journey. I kiss you because I need you, I love you because I can’t get enough of you. I might be a little bit too clingy thanks to the fact that my brain wants me to believe that me being the way I am now is not the same person you fell in love with but I know it’s all bullshit. I just need a lot of validation right now. And maybe I’m seeking it by being intimate with you. Hm. Maybe you had a point.” Izuku rambles and you can’t help but laugh.

“Those therapy sessions are really good for you. Look at you self-analyzing yourself!”

“I know, right?” Izuku laughs, slowly moving up to tower over you. “So can you do that to my hair again? I’ve been so good today. So so good.” He grins, clearly aware of how cringe his is right now.

“Nope. You ruined it.” You push the man away and run into the kitchen to sit down by the table cluttered with drawing materials. “I need to finish this commission, anyway!”

Izuku stays put for an hour then sneaks under the table while you’re distracted by all the different kind of greens you need to choose from for pro hero Deku’s hair.

“Hey.” Izuku looks up at you from between your legs with a big, hungry grin on his face and… let’s just say he gets what he wants afterwards.

This man will be the death of you.

~•🥦•~

The evening is a blur. You two sit down on the sofa when the time comes; Izu looks restless, stressed, absolutely out of it, he doesn’t cuddle, he doesn’t come close, he just sits by the TV, his right leg bouncing up and down and you are five seconds away from yelling at him; no, not because it’s annoying, but because there is something he’s hiding and you really do not appreciate being left out of something so important and you hate how you are incapable of helping because Izuku does not let you in on this one.

The gala starts and the fellow heroes make their grand entrance; Katsuki and Eijiou look gorgeous in their tailored suits, elegant but deadly, Kyouka is wearing a beautiful frilly dress, all black, and her favorite boots, she reminds you of Avril Lavigne but more extreme. It takes 10 minutes for the interviewer to question the number one hero’s absence; Izuku’s leg stops moving and he stares at his feet, not even looking at the screen. You usually love watching the gala; the beautiful dresses, the smile on the heroes faces but today, you are dreading it; there is a static coming from TV, but maybe it’s coming from Izuku’s uncontrollable quirk, the colors are faded but maybe that’s only in your head, it’s weirdly dark and something is just wrong, so wrong you can’t shake the feeling off.

“What have you done…” you look at your boyfriend, because you can’t do this anymore.

“Sweets…”

“What have you done, Izuku?!” You ask again, frustrated. You can barely finish your sentence before the event officially starts; the 10th hero gets announced, then the list goes up to the top three… you already know something is up when there is only 3 places left but there are four people, the top four still seated in the crowd, or in Izuku’s case, at home. The camera zooms in at Katsuki, who looks angry and disheveled, nothing like he looked like a few minutes ago. Katsuki is clever and he definitely knows how to count. Kirishima has concern etched into his face, already up the podium as a fellow top 10 hero. He probably hates not being there for his partner. There is anger boiling inside you from seeing how this beautiful event was completely ruined for these people.

“Before we move to the top three, I would like to play a video we got from our Number One hero, Deku.” The retired hero who was asked to hold the ceremony announces with an utterly confused face.

… And then you understand what’s going on.

“Hey there, my fellow hero partners and everyone in Japan.” Izuku’s voice is firm and confident or at least it sounds like it but you know it’s all a fucking act. “I’m really sorry for not coming to the Gala in person but I have a feeling I would be killed by friends if I do.” He smiles sadly. “First of all, I want to thank everyone for keeping me on the first place for so long. It has been a pleasure and I do feel I worked hard enough to get to that first place but it wouldn’t have been possible without all of you. But…” this is a bad dream. This is not real. This can’t be fucking real. “It’s time for me to give this opportunity to someone else. As you all know, I’ve been out of commission for a while now and it will take a long time for me to heal. Until my body is ready to earn your votes, until I’m able to thank you by saving as many people as I can, I would like to announce my temporary retirement from the hero business.” In the background, Katsuki stands up and is about to leave the event. Kyouka stops him. Katsuki yells but it’s not audible. More heroes come over to tame the beast. Eijirou looks like he’s about to cry, his eyes full of longing as he looks at his partner, his best friend, struggling while he’s standing on the podium. “Once I’m ready, I want to earn your votes with my actions. I want and I will earn my spot back in the future. But for now, I want you guys to move on without me. Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to see the new Number One hero. Kacchan, make me proud.”

Katsuki cries. But not from happiness.

“I don’t want it!” Katsuki yells so loudly it’s audible. “I don’t fucking want it! It’s not mine! It’s not…” the first sob leaves Katsuki’s mouth and that’s the last straw for Eijirou; he jumps off the podium and runs towards Katsuki, completely ruining the gala.

Izuku jumps up from the sofa and leaves without a word, leaving droplets of tears on the floor as he runs by. You have no idea what to do. You want to run after Izuku, you want to run to the gala, to be there for Katsuki, because in the last few weeks, he and Eijirou became family to you. You are also extremely mad and disappointed in your Izuku so you have a selfish thought of letting him stew in his own juice; but you need to be an adult here, you need to think about Izuku’s mental health, about the reason why Izuku is going to therapy in the first place, you need to be the bigger man, put your anger aside and help him get through it.

Yes, the Gala was ruined, but in a fucked up way, Izuku wasn’t wrong; the doctors did say he won’t be able to be back to work for a couple of months and he probably won’t be at his best for the next few months after, so technically speaking, he would have lost his first place by next year anyway. Ripping of the bandaid now instead of watching your rank go further and further down while you are supposed to be stress-free would have done more harm than good.

The problem here is the way Izuku did the deed but at the same time, there is no way Katsuki would have let him do this even if it’s the right thing to do.

On the screen, Katsuki and Eijirou leaves the Gala while the poor spoke-person tries to save the event.

There is no way they are not headed this way. Which means you MUST get Izuku out of his stupor before they arrive. The event was held 1 hour away; that is if they use a taxi. Knowing how angry Katsuki is, he’ll fucking fly through the sky and arrive without Eijirou in less than 20 minutes, leaving the blonde without the only person who can restrain him if he looses his shit.

You could close the back door but Katsuki would break through anyway. They also have a spare key. There is no point.

20 minutes.

“Fuck.” You pull yourself together and run towards Izuku’s secret office entrance; you don’t need to see him going that way to know that’s where he went. Your phone rings in your pocket; there is a message from Izuku’s mom and a missed call from Eijirou; you quickly message his mom back saying you have it under control and it’s all good, then you call the red haired man back who can’t stop rambling for the life of him.

“Dude, I can’t understand what you are saying.” You mumble angrily as you run through the small corridor. “But if this is about Katsuki flying though the city to kick Izuku’s ass, I had a hunch and I’m trying my best to sort him him out so he can at least communicate with him.” You end the call without waiting for a response. You have twenty minutes to get Izuku out of his office, if not, Katsuki will explode the small hidden room and you will all die from smoke inhalation… wait, does he even know about this room? Oh, he does. He doesn’t know how to open it, though. Not like it really matters, he is a clever man so it would take him a few minutes to find out the “code”. He knows Izuku better than he knows the back of his own pretty, smooth hands.

“Go away” Izuku mumbles right as you put the code in and open the door. “I said GO AWAY” Blackwhip surges forward but you are not scared; Izuku would never hurt you.

“PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT BELONGS, MIDORIYA IZUKU!” You yell; black whip shakes a bit and retreats. Izuku looks like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly surprised by your stern voice.

“I’m… so… Sorry.” Izuku stares at the floor, embarrassed. He’s still crying. You want to give him a hug but you also want to pummel him to the floor (not in a cheeky way.)

“No, I get it, and I get why you did what you did but we have 15 minutes before Katsuki barges through the back door and I don’t want our love nest to explode so let’s make a plan and let’s wait for that angry Pomeranian outside. If he ruins any of my plants, I’ll kill him myself, though. I worked really hard to make them look this pretty.”

Izuku looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s hearing; there is so much fondness in his eyes, so much love it almost makes you forget that the man is in trouble.

“You are the best girlfriend in the whole wide world, do you know that?”

“Well, you can show me your appreciation later, now let’s get ready for battle.”

Izuku says nothing but smiles; he takes your hand and lets you pull him towards the exit.

“A fated battle between two men, as Ochako would say.” Izuku smiles to himself, eyes still full of tears. You roll your eyes.

“Fated battle between two idiots, I would rather say.”

“Fair point.”

Honestly, at this point, you don’t remember how it feels to have a normal life. You’ve changed so much in the last few months your own parents would probably think you are an alien in their daughter’s body which might sound like a bad thing but it’s quite the opposite; you’ve become stronger, better, kinder but you’ve also learned how to say no, how to stand up for yourself, how to be your own person. You’ll be always grateful for this weird bunch for helping find yourself after being lost for years.

“Explodo-boy is about to land. Take a deep breath, Izu.” You mumble as you see a flaming meteor in the sky coming closer and closer.

“This is how I die.”

This retort earns Izuku a big smack to the back of his fluffy head.

… to be continued!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Eyyyo, sorry for the angst but it had to happen! I tried to be nice and not actually end the chapter with a really bad cliffhanger so please appreciate me trying. Haha.

- I only have two chapters to write (this is real life time, you guys have a few more chapters! For now, it should end with Chapter 26.) but I think I’m gonna post the ones I have ready, so I can read your feedback and maybe add some extra chapters or put some of your ideas into the existing ones. This means there is going to be a bit of delay again in the future, but hopefully, not months, but a week or two. I don’t really like writing without hearing your thoughts first but I’m also not in the right mind space to keep posting every week so it’s the devil’s cycle really.

I enjoy writing to you but I enjoy writing together with you even more! So feel free to share your thoughts or things you want to read about; this is your last chance to speak up! 💜

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave @alyss-eiz @sleepisfortheweakpooh

[tinytinyblogs]

Hi! I don’t know if you take requests but y’know how you did the yandere series w/ Stray Kids? Is it possible if you do the reverse of that? The reader the yandere and the members the victim? If it’s too much you don’t have to do it, I just thought with your writing it would be good. Have a great day/night/sleep 🧷🐣

This Is Not Love

When love isn't as sweet as they expected

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

💬 I've been away for quite a while—I know! Sorry for the delay, but I'm finally back and ready to start writing again.

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Over time, as your yandere tendencies began to surface, Chan couldn’t help but notice the subtle shifts in your behavior. At first, it was small things—the way your eyes lingered a little too long when he talked to others, or how you’d always find excuses to be near him, even when it wasn’t necessary. Then it became more apparent: the possessive grip on his arm, the quiet jealousy when he spent time with the members, the way you seemed to always know where he was, even when he hadn’t told you. Chan, being the observant and empathetic leader he is, didn’t miss any of it. Instead of reacting with anger or fear, he felt concern. He could see the turmoil beneath your actions, the insecurity driving your need to control and cling. One evening, after a particularly intense moment where you lashed out at the thought of him being away from you, he decided it was time to address it. Gently, he took your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. His voice was soft but firm as he spoke. “I see how much you care about me, and I appreciate it. But this… this isn’t healthy. You don’t have to hold on so tightly. I’m not going anywhere.” His words were like a balm to your anxious heart, but he didn’t stop there. Chan, ever the caretaker, made it clear that he cared deeply for you. He held your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm, and looked into your eyes with a mix of love and concern.

“I want to help you,” he said. “This isn’t right, and I think you know that too. But I’m here for you. I’ll be by your side while you work on this, okay? You don’t have to do it alone.” His warmth and patience began to break through the walls of your possessiveness. You could feel the sincerity in his words, the way he genuinely wanted to see you heal and grow. It wasn’t just about fixing the relationship—it was about fixing you, and he was willing to stand by you every step of the way. Chan’s unwavering support and gentle guidance started to change something in you. His kindness reminded you that love didn’t have to be about control or fear. It could be about trust, patience, and growth. And with him holding your hand, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could learn to let go. But Chan, ever the responsible leader, didn’t let his care overshadow the need for boundaries. “I’ll always care about you,” he said, his voice steady. “But you have to promise me you’ll work on this. For yourself, and for us. I’ll be here, but you have to take the steps to fix it. Can you do that for me?” His words were a gentle push, a reminder that while he would support you, the journey to healing was yours to take. And with his hand in yours, you felt a little less afraid to start.

Minho

At first, Minho tried to brush off your possessive behavior. He noticed the way your eyes would narrow when he mentioned hanging out with friends, or how you’d always find a reason to tag along when he tried to go somewhere without you. It was strange, sure, but he figured it was just a phase—something that would pass with time. He is trying hard to understand why you act that way. Is it because you love him that much? He really wants to see it in a positive light, even though he knows something feels off about your behavior. But as the days went by, your actions became more intense. You started making excuses to keep him from meeting his friends, guilt-tripping him whenever he tried to leave, and even showing up unannounced at places you knew he’d be. It was suffocating, and Minho, who valued his independence and personal space, found himself growing more and more frustrated. One day, after you tried to stop him from meeting his friends yet again, he finally reached his limit. He turned to you, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief, and said bluntly, “You’re acting weird. Stop following me. I’m just meeting my friends—it’s not a big deal.” His words were sharp, but they came from a place of honesty.

Minho wasn’t one to sugarcoat things, and he couldn’t pretend your behavior was okay anymore. An argument might arise from this statement—he doesn’t like how the relationship makes him so unhappy. Shouldn't it be sweet instead of feeling this way? He didn’t like this side of you—the clinginess, the possessiveness, the way you seemed to want to control his every move. It wasn’t healthy, and he knew it. If things didn’t change, Minho made it clear that he wouldn’t stick around. He valued his freedom and his relationships with others too much to let anyone—even you—dictate how he lived his life. “If this keeps up,” he said, his tone firm but calm, “I’m stepping out. I can’t do this if it’s going to be like this.” Minho wasn’t cruel, but he wasn’t going to compromise his boundaries either. He hoped you’d understand and take steps to change, but if the situation became worse, he wouldn’t hesitate to walk away. For Minho, self-respect and peace of mind were non-negotiable, and he’d protect them—even if it meant leaving you behind. He truly believes you should work on yourself—he won't tolerate such an unsettling relationship.

Changbin

At first, Changbin found your clinginess endearing. The way you always wanted to be near him, the way your eyes lit up when he was around—it made him feel loved and protected. He even thought it was cute, smiling sweetly at you whenever you clung to his arm or insisted on spending every moment together. Since he is also the clingy type, he doesn’t mind it. “Aww, you really want me all to yourself, huh?” he’d tease, his voice warm and affectionate. But as time went on, your behavior started to shift. What once felt like sweet devotion began to feel overwhelming. You’d interrupt his gym sessions, showing up unannounced and insisting he spend time with you instead. Or you’d sabotage his studio time, making excuses to pull him away from his work. At first, Changbin tried to brush it off, telling himself it was just your way of showing love. But deep down, he couldn’t ignore the growing confusion and frustration. One day, after you interrupted yet another studio session, Changbin decided to address it. He took a deep breath, his tone gentle but firm.

“Hey, let’s trust each other, okay? I know you care about me, and I care about you too. But I need my space sometimes—to work out, to make music, to just… be me. You get that, right?” Changbin wasn’t quick to judge you. He understood that your actions came from a place of love, even if they were misguided. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he hoped that by talking things through, you’d see how important it was for both of you to have balance in the relationship. But if things didn’t improve—if your possessiveness continued to escalate—Changbin knew he’d have to take a firmer stance. He cared about you deeply, but he also cared about his own well-being and his passions. If it came to it, he’d sit you down and make everything crystal clear. “I love you,” he’d say, his voice steady but serious, “but this isn’t healthy. We need to trust each other, or this isn’t going to work.” Changbin’s heart was big, but so was his sense of self-respect. He’d give you the chance to change, to grow, but if the situation became too much to handle, he wouldn’t hesitate to set boundaries—even if it meant stepping back for the sake of both of your happiness.

Hyunjin

At first, Hyunjin found your intense love for him incredibly romantic. The way you doted on him, protected him, and made sure he felt cherished—it melted his heart. He couldn’t help but smile when you went out of your way to take care of him, showering him with attention and affection. To Hyunjin, it felt like you were showing him just how much he was worth, and it made him feel truly loved. “You really love me that much, huh?” he’d say with a soft laugh, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. But as time went on, your love began to take on a more obsessive tone. You started stalking his every move—showing up unexpectedly at his dance practices, keeping tabs on his schedule, and even monitoring his interactions with others. At first, Hyunjin tried to brush it off, telling himself it was just your way of caring. But slowly, a sense of unease crept in. He began to question whether this was normal, whether this was how love was supposed to feel. The more your behavior intensified, the more Hyunjin felt trapped. He found himself panicking, his mind racing with doubts. Is this right? Is this how a relationship should be?

He valued his freedom and his individuality, and the thought of losing them scared him. One day, when your actions crossed a line—perhaps by confronting someone he was talking to or demanding he cancel plans to be with you—Hyunjin finally reached his breaking point. His emotions spilled over in a dramatic, tearful confrontation. “I love you,” he said, his voice trembling, “but this… this isn’t okay. You can’t control me like this. I need my freedom. I need to be able to live my life without feeling like I’m being watched all the time.” Tears streamed down his face as he poured his heart out, his dramatic nature amplifying the intensity of the moment. “I care about you so much, but this isn’t how love should work. Love is supposed to make us feel safe and happy, not trapped and scared. Please… understand that.” Hyunjin’s words were raw and heartfelt, a plea for balance and understanding. He didn’t want to lose you, but he also couldn’t lose himself in the process. If things didn’t change, he knew he’d have to make the difficult decision to step back—not because he didn’t love you, but because he loved himself enough to know he deserved a love that was healthy and free.

[skyfallscotland]

I'm going back to read In Too Deep because:

1.it is a Masterpiece

2.I made a new ao3 account so of course I need to comment on every single chapter again.

3. It's my birthday and there's no better way to comfort me than reading my emotional support fic with chocolate cake. (Umm people forgot my birthday)

But anyways thank you for writing it.I love you for that. It feels like a warm hug. 🫂🫂💕💕

Hi!

Firstly, thank you so much, I'm so glad you love In Too Deep and I'm very thankful for everyone who comments 🥹 I'm glad it can be a comfort to you.

On birthdays well, I had a pretty terrible one this year too. A couple of people remembered, but the day was pretty awful and I did the same—lit myself a candle and put it in a cupcake for myself.

I wrote this on my birthday, but never posted it:

I think of birthdays the same way I think of Christmas. When they're inevitably (for me) disappointing, you can't say anything because you're expected to enjoy it. If you have depression, in my experience, it worsens until it's all you can do to breathe through it. I feel like I'm wading through mud, just trying to get to the next day. I was kind of excited to have Onyx Storm in my birthday week because I thought it would make things better, but really I just feel like I can’t be honest that I’m having a crap time or I’ll be raining on everyone’s parade, and if Onyx Storm isn’t what I hope, then again I’ll be raining on everyone’s parade again and I don’t know. It just feels shitty right now. 

Spoiler alert: it wasn't what I'd hoped and that did just make everything worse.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I get it and you're not alone. It sucks to feel like no one cares and especially more so when you see other people celebrating on social media with tons of friends at expensive restaurants with fancy cakes. But I do! I very much appreciate you and I hope you enjoy the rest of your birthday, with your delicious cake and the Archive! 💗🥹🎈

[reverd-ck]

ch.2- he's so perfect, blah blah blah

You blinked into a familiar ceiling. Where have you last seen this?

The morning light shone through the window, penetrating through the blinds. Its pattern left a soft glow of illumination into the room. It took your eyes a few seconds to finally understand: This was Choso’s apartment, and you were in his guest room. 

How did that happen?

Breathing in a deep breath, you feel that your throat is unusually dry, and your face feels a little sticky. You clear your throat as you slowly sit up, your aching muscles straining to support your weight. When you got up, a headache out of nowhere hit you like a truck.

Pulsing in relentless waves, it attacked your head over and over again, never once settling down. Hands shooting up to your temples, you try to massage your head, and ease the throbbing pain. 

Headache, dry throat, and the sorest muscles ever. Yeah, you definitely got drunk last night. 

Moving your legs off the bed and groaning, you head towards the washroom to try to clean yourself up. You washed your face with hot water, which helped soothing the headache a bit more. You could only wash your face as there wasn't a toothbrush or anything for you to use, so to satisfy your other need, you went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

As you were filling up the glass, you heard some small footsteps, and the creak of a door. Yuji had woken up, and was also going to the bathroom to do his routine. When he opened his door, he saw you in the kitchen. You two exchange a glance while Yuji rubs his eyes to make sure he still isn’t dreaming. 

“Ohh!! It’s you!! My brother’s girl friend!!” Yuji exclaimed, a smile on his face.

“Good morning Yuji,” you reply. “Although, I wouldn’t say girl-friend.” you add nervously while taking a sip of the water.

Yuji, having completely moved on from the topic, asked, “Why are you here in the morning? Aren’t you supposed to be at your house?” 

You took a second to conteplate how to explain to a 9 year old how badly drunk you got last night that his older brother needed to pick you up.

“Uhh, Choso did me a really good favor and picked me up from a place when I couldn’t drive.” you lie, convincing the nine year old. 

“Oh, okay.” Yuji said, accepting the explaination and going on about his morning. You sigh and drink from the glass again. You saw on the couch your phone, wallet, and other neccesities. You walked over to collect them, assuming Choso just put your things on the couch for you.

He’s so nice, you think to yourself, thankful for the little extra he always does for everybody.

As you sit on the couch scrolling through your messages and drinking water at the same time, Choso comes out of his room and sees you already up. 

“Hey, sleep well?” Choso asked when he saw you sitting on the couch. He was still nervous on how to correctly approach you after last night, so he decided he’ll just play it off as nothing and be “nonchalant” about it. 

“Yup!” you replied, smiling. Your brows furrowed a little, still battling the headache.  “Thanks for driving me back too, Cho. Really really appreciate it.” 

“Eh, it was nothing, no big deal,” Choso replied, still being cautious on what he said. He looked at your slightly pained expression, and he thinks that you remembered what happened last night. Oh god- Would it be awkward just talking now? 

“So..uhh..” Choso mumbled. “Are you feeling better now?”

You thought he was mentioning how drunk you were, but he was really trying to ask you about the scene last night. 

“Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better now, I just have a huge headache though,” you sighed.

That wasn’t what I meant. He thought. As in your mood. But he didn’t want to bring it up- what if he was bringing back bad memories? He didn’t want to do that to you. Choso decided it would be worth it to just not mention last night at all and will only elaborate if you brought it up.

But you never did bring it up, being convinced to eat breakfast with him and Yuji.

The whole time, he was scanning your face and expressions to see if you had really forgotten or some part of you still hurt, but you were just hiding it.

Why would you need to hide it in front of me though? Choso thought. 

As you ate a simple breakfast- Toast with butter, you were a little lost in thought, trying to piece together a timeline. Weirdly, you feel like you’ve forgotten something that should be mentioned sometime around… someone… you just couldn’t figure out who.

First, that guy did break up with you. Piece of shit, really. Were you over it? A little, now. Better than yesterday, at least, when you decided just to drink it all away at a bar. Then, you have a vague recollection of texting someone, which you found out to be Choso this morning, and then passing out. 

Sitting there, thinking to yourself, you didn’t notice the person across from you staring at a face he found pretty for a long time. Choso thought you were playing it off as trying not to be a bother- and he was trying to form a plan to talk about it with you a little more. Hesitantly, he tries to start a conversation about the topic.

“Um… about last night…” he murmured unsurely. He looks down, to the side, at your plate, the fork you’re holding, anything but your face. You tilt your head sideways to signify that you’re listening. In your head, you were freaking out a little bit. Did you do something wrong? Did you do something embarrasing? How bad was it that he needed to confront to you about it?

You spoke up before he coud continue. “Oh- oh my god. If it’s anything I did, then I’m so so sorry for it!” you said, sitting up a little straighter.

Choso was lost. He looked at your genuinely clueless expression to confirm is theory.

You had genuinely forgot.

Alarmed by his sudden silence, you tried to clarify once more. “Really! I don’t remember a single thing! What did I do?” you exclaimed, honestly defending yourself. You put your hands up in the air as a gesture of surrender.

Choso, having snapped out from his momentary shock, tried to clear the air again. “Relax, you didn’t do anything…I’m just surprised you forgot, that’s all.” he said. 

He knew you didn’t believe his explaination, but you didn’t question further, which was all he needed to sit down and think about how to approach this. 

Still feeling ashamed, you quickly ate your breakfast and left his apartment in an attempt to avoid staying too long. Before you finish chewing, you get up and say, in a muffled tone, that you're going home. Then you go to the couch and gather your belongings. When you mutter "sorry" to him and Yuji, Choso nods in response and hands you your jacket. You closed the front door after putting on your shoes and shouting "Bye," your cheeks still flushed from the awkwardness.

Choso was still standing in the doorway, surprised on how fast you left. He should say sorry for embarrasing you, he thought. He felt a small nudge on his leg. He looked down as Yuji looked up at Choso and bluntly said, “She’s pretty. Why is she not your girl friend?” in little brother astonishment. Choso’s face reddended as he picked up Yuji and mubmled “That’s enough bro, thanks for your input.” Yuji giggled on Choso’s shoulder, kicking his legs and smiling. He smiled back. All he ever loved was you and Yuji. He wasn’t sure how, but he’ll get through with you one day. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Two weeks later, you had found another date to look forward to, getting over the last one pretty quickly, even if it hurt more than the others. This time, it was someone who looked promising. His name was Toji- someone who you met at online. You were a bit wary of him though, since he seemed like the type to abandon his own son and sell him to a clan who wants to kill him, but you weren’t too sure. That was what first dates were for, to learn more about them, right? 

It was 5pm, and you were starting to get ready to go to the bar where you guys planned to meet up. You hummed to your favorite song playing on a speaker nearby as you did your makeup, feeling just a bit nervous about the upcoming date. Generally, people online didn’t live up to much of your standards. As you were dabbing on blush, the doorbell rang. Curiously, you weren’t expecting anyone here at this time. Putting your brush down, you speed-walked to the door, yelling “Coming!” and looking through the peephole.

To your surprise, you saw an eye staring right back at you.

You inhaled a sharp breath before yanking your eye away from the hole and taking a step back from the door. Until you heard a familiar voice.

“Yuji, stop peeking in from that side. It won’t work,” said Choso.

“But I wanted to see if she was there yet!” Yuji’s voice whined.

Breathing a sigh of relief that it was just Choso and his brother, you unlocked and opened the door, being met with Yuji’s beaming smile and Choso right there with him. 

“Gosh, Yuji! You scared me with your eye!” you said. “Why are you here at my apartment anyway?” 

Choso sighed. “Because-”

“Because the skibidi toilet live stream is happening right now!! And it said to bring a friend for double aura points!!” Yuji continued, eyes sparkling.

You blinked at him once. Twice. Aura points? What’s that? You look up to Choso, silently asking him if what Yuji said was what is actually happening, and Choso just gave it a short nod.

“Umm… sure… You can-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Yuji rushed in, laughing. He quickly turned on the TV and navigated Youtube to pull up the livestream.

You turn your attention back to Choso. He coughs a little in his hand, then explains that that livestream told everyone to bring a friend, and Yuji insisted on going to your home to watch the livestream with him. 

You felt happy that Yuji chose you to be his friend watching with him, but then again, you had to go in around thirty minutes. You looked back at Yuji and then back to Choso.

“Um, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay and watch the whole livestream, Choso. I’m really sorry…” you said, a pit forming in your stomach.

Choso gave you a pointed look. “Another date?” he asked. You nod slowly, feeling regret that you couldn’t stay.

Choso was silent for a few seconds. 

He can stop you now, he thought. Now was a good opportunity to stop you from ruining yourself all over again. He just needed a place where you and him could talk about it without Yuji overhearing. 

Opening his mouth, he says nervously, “Hey, can we talk somewhere?”

Curious, you followed him into your bedroom. You closed the door behind you, and asked, “So what’s up?” 

Choso stood in front of the closed door and took a deep breath.

“Don’t go on that date.”

Immediately, your reaction was a quick “Huh?”. You registered what he said- you just didn’t believe it. 

Choso paused again. “I’m serious, y/n. Don’t go on that date.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer for a second. He had his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor. His position didn’t come off as someone who was sure about what he was going to say, which made you question him even more.

“Why Choso? Do you… know this guy or anything?” you say, unsurely . “Or do you have magic powers and can tell the future?” you joke with a light smile, trying to ease the tension. 

He stayed silent for another second. “Just…don’t,” he reiterated, making you even more confused.

“Why? Should I be worried or anything?” 

Seeing him this unsure made you panic a little. You didn’t understand why he was being so secretive. Or maybe he was waiting for you to figure out the reason yourself?

“Is it because of him? Does he have a bad rep or anything I didn’t hear of?”

“No, I don’t know him. I just don’t want you to go.”

Huh? So what was his reason on why he doesn’t want you to go? Wait, was he saying that he doesn’t want you to go on the date, or he doesn’t want you to go in general, what did he mean?

“Oh, is it because of Yuji’s skibidi thing? Is that why you want me to stay?”

Choso could feel this conversation is going in the wrong direction. He needed to speak his mind- but how? 

“No, no it isn’t about that either… It’s…”

His sudden pause makes you fidgety. What did he have to tell you that was so important? You checked your phone for the time- 5:36. You needed to be going in almost ten minutes, and you still haven’t finished your makeup.

You don’t want to interupt Choso on what he wants to tell you- but what does he need to say that has to take this long for him to think about it?

“It’s what?”

He sighed. Maybe he should just tell his truth and go in blind. He saw you check your phone for the time, he knew you were getting a little impatient. He needed to be quick.

“Look, y/n. I don’t want you to go because… you need to give yourself time to heal before you move on.”

He did it. He said the words. You would have to get it now. By the end of this, you’ll get it. Maybe he’ll finally be able to stop you.

His words stunned you a bit. Heal? Move on? You already did, right? Why was he so concerned over this now? 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask. Truthfully- you knew exactly what he meant, you just needed to confirm it.

Choso hesitates. How is this the best way to put it?

“That last breakup you had, it was really rough, even for you. You know… when you called me to pick you up from the bar, and when you slept over… you sorta…” Choso sucked his teeth in. He wasn’t sure if he should be telling you this, while you were living in blissful ignorance. 

Your mind jumped to a horrible conclusion. If you had forgotten about the whole thing, of course he would feel uncomfortable with you going to meet with another person. 

“I what? Oh my god, Choso, did I do anything? I’m so, so, so sorry if you were uncomfortable, I-”

“No! No, don’t get the wrong idea.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. At least that didn’t happen.

Choso goes on. “It was nothing like that. Um, last time, you came to me really, really upset because of that breakup.”

You thought about his words. It should ring a bell, right? How could you forget about something like that? 

What did you even say though? You had completely forgot about the thing. No recollection at all.

“Choso, I think I completely forgot about that.”

He looks up at you. “I know you did. But I really think it should be unhealthy for you to move on so quickly.”

His words echo in your head. Honestly, they had a truth to it. 

On the second hand, why was he being so protective now?

“Choso, I think I get where you’re coming from, but I still need to go, you know.” You checked the time on your phone again. 5:38. You really, really had to be hurrying up now.

Yuji’s voice called from the living room. “Are you going to watch with me?”

Choso looked back at the door. He didn’t want to leave his little brother hanging, but he didn’t want to leave you again. 

You decided for him.

“I’m sorry Choso, I really am. How about I go on this date and see? Then we’ll talk about it more?”

You were definitely trying your best to compromise, get rid of the conversation, and get out as fast as you can, but Choso had other plans. 

“No,” he said affirmatively. “You need to stay in and let yourself rest.”

Your impatience was really getting a hold of you now. Why was he so insistent? Why couldn’t he just let you go? Was it really a big deal? 

Does he need to do this now? Right now? 

“Choso, I’m fine. Let me go.”

“No.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

You clench your fists a little. You really shouldn’t be wasting time like this. 

“Choso, please. Why are you being so stingy about this? Since when did you start caring?”

“Since you texted me drunk and sobbed into my shoulder!”

The room was silent for a second. Did you really do that?

“I thought, after that, I would try to make and effort to not let you get yourself depressed like that ever again,” he said.

You looked at Choso in the eyes. He was staring right back into you. It all made so much more sense now. You now knew why he was trying to stop you.

But you can’t just bail out like this.

“Choso, I appreciate it. I really do. But please, I need to go to this one. It’s too late to cancel now. I’ll look like a bitch doing so.”

He was about to lose you. He didn’t want to wait another time to stop you. He had you now, why give up? He needed to say something, anything. Anything to give as an excuse. 

“Y/n…”

“Choso, I actually-”

“Y/n. I don’t want you to go because I love you.”

.

.

.

What?

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

a/n

whats up guys?! welcome to the fic that i thought was a good idea then it wasn't.

hopefully i will finish this though.

why did it take so long?

deco*27 monitoring reference yuji itadori?

originally y/n was gonna blow tf up and be a whole bitch then it felt weird so i had to rewrite the entire last part

when the plot is swiss cheesing.

or am i just reading into this too much?

hello brain rot yuji i love you with all my heart

thank you for reading <3

dividers by @.enchanthings @.adornedwithlight

<- back - - - next ->

series m.list

taglist- open!

[unluckywisher]

If this is totally outside your realm of comfort to write then that's cool but I figured there's no harm in shooting my shot. Your small chested reader with Caleb piece was delightful, and I was wondering 👉👈Might you consider writing a little something about a trans reader who's dealing with chest dysphoria?

While this isn't my field of expertise, I would love for my fics to comfort all kinds of people so I shall try my best!!! <3 🫡 Constructive criticism is appreciated since this is my first time writing this kind of stuff!! :D

Caleb was the first person you told about your transition, both because you consider him your closest friend, and because you knew he would support you. And he does!

At first he didn't know much about what he should do or how he should act, but being the resourceful man he is, he immediately looked into it so he could be as supportive as possible and anticipate any needs you might have.

Of course one of the first things he learnt about was how you could feel uncomfortable and insecure of your own body. Not on his watch.

Prepare to receive lots of binders in different styles because he just has to make sure you're comfortable and you look how you want to look. All the while saying and reassuring that you don't need these to be a man, you already are, but he figured you would appreciate them.

He would show you his favorite clothing stores and encourage any and all styles you might want to try, trying to be objective with you so you'd know he means it if he says that you look how a guy would look, without being condescending.

If you keep tugging at your shirt or wearing baggy clothes because you're not comfortable with your body yet, he will just. Take your hand and make you feel how big his chest is. He'll joke about how he might need to wear a binder too by your standards.

He'll invite you to go exercising with him and encourage you to wear tighter sports clothes, biggest hype man there ever was.

"You keep complainin' about your chest but I only see it getting flatter and mine getting bigger. I think I'm absorbing your energy and getting more powerful." And such memery aplenty.

Insists that the human body isn't even that representative of anyone. He uses Viper as an example. Then he uses his arm as an example. Then he worries a lot that you'll take it as an idea and go to Professor Lucius to get your body modified.

No even a question but he would pay for any surgery you'd want to have, if you want to have it, and get actually good doctors.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

✨ a post appreciating writers ✨

it's sunday evening, before another week that will push me to my limits. but now it's time for me to tell you about the stories that have been accompanying me lately when I find a moment for myself.

these are stories created by wonderful writers. they are people with great imagination, enormous talent, very empathetic and sensitive, building the world with their words.

come in. read. support them ⬇️⬇️⬇️

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU Pedro Pascal x F!Reader by @theetherealbloom

this is a gem. a real treasure. it could be anyone, and the story would still be beautiful. Reader is really real (yesss), with the normal uncertainties that each of us has. everything moves along at a pleasant rhythm, the dialogues are written really smoothly and there is no boredom there. I would like to be there even for a moment, to feel that someone is so sweetly interested in me. I hug you to my heart and love you. ❤️

The boyfriend act Frankie Morales x F!reader by @capuccinodoll

this is something! this is amazing! I love the relationship and chemistry between them. I love it when they tease each other. I sometimes wonder which one will be accused of the crime first, which one will break. the tension grows with each chapter. I don't know how you do it. I want to know your secret. how do you write something so wonderful? full of details, but they don't tire you out while reading. every sentence is important, every gesture and every word. I want them to be together, but at the same time I have the impression that they are doing everything to spite each other. your talent is a gift. nurture it, and I will adore you until the end of my days. ❤️

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series by @whoredyceps

each story is a different story and a different hero. it's like a delicious cookie every day that I eat with pleasure. I take what you give me and savor it. you build stories full of emotions that lead us to the end, and we feel fulfilled there. I think you need a lot of strength to add something new every day and for it to be so good every time. you have my shield and sword. ❤️

'The soldier in the armour' Marcus Acacius x f!reader by @stylesispunk

this is something that will stay with me for a long time. your story is different, and that makes it even more beautiful. it's something great. but the ending… you broke my heart so many times, and then you put a plaster on it and kissed me on the forehead. i admire you for the amount of work you put into it, it must have been exhausting. but it was worth it! i would like to see what you create now, what you will feed me. my beloved… ❤️

i try to reblog everything that steals my heart. there is a lot of it! these beautiful beings are just the tip of the iceberg, which is a thousand wonderful writers that i find here.

you are all inspiring. you all teach me something new. you are all important to me.

thank you for being here.❤️

[memorabxlia]

When Your Sick ━ 투바투

☆pairing¡! ot5 x fem!reader (separate) ☆genre¡! fluff, little bit of angst (maybe) ☆warnings¡! mentions illness, mentions food, just the boys being a bit dramatic ☆summary¡! how each member cares for you when your sick ☆wc¡! 759 ☆a/n¡! a thank you for reaching 200 FOLLOWERS!!! I appreciate all the love and support from each and every one of you! It means the world. ♡ ☆nets¡! @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

Yeonjun

Yeonjun shows up at your place, a single bottle of orange juice in hand and sunglasses perched on his head as if he's about to perform some grand feat.

"Alright, babe," he declares, handing you the juice. "This is the miracle cure that's going to save you."

"It's...orange juice?" you say, raising an eyebrow.

"Not just any orange juice!" he insists, looking wounded. "It has vitamin C—nature's medicine."

He doesn't stop there. Yeonjun sets up a whole "healing" routine, including relaxing music, candle lighting, and even a pillow-fluffing demonstration. When you roll your eyes, he just grins. "Come on, a little drama never hurt anyone," he teases, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Even though it's totally over-the-top, you find yourself smiling at his antics. He knows exactly how to lighten the mood—and with him by your side, suddenly being sick doesn't feel so bad.

Soobin

You wake up feeling groggy and feverish, only to see Soobin's worried face hovering above yours. He's holding a giant thermos of soup, looking like he's on a high-stakes mission.

"Hey, babe, are you okay?" he asks for what feels like the hundredth time that morning, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead.

"I'm fine, Soobin," you groan, trying to reassure him.

But he isn't convinced. He insists on taking your temperature every half hour, jotting down each result in a little notebook he brought with him. Every few minutes, he asks if you need anything else—more soup, more blankets, more pillows—until you're bundled up like a burrito.

"Are you comfortable? Are you sure you're comfortable?" he keeps asking, eyes wide with concern.

"Yes, I promise," you say, though you can't help but laugh at his intensity. Soobin may be over-the-top, but there's no doubt he'd do anything to make you feel better—even if it means driving you a little crazy in the process.

Beomgyu

The minute Beomgyu hears you're feeling under the weather, he shows up ready to make fun of you just enough to cheer you up.

"Whoa, babe, you look...intense," he says with a smirk, settling down next to you. "Like, are you trying to scare people with this look?"

You groan and roll your eyes. "Wow, thanks, Gyu."

"What? I'm here to lift your spirits!" He grins, nudging you as he wraps a blanket around your shoulders. Despite the teasing, Beomgyu makes sure you're warm and comfortable, getting you snacks and water while continuing to poke fun at you just enough to keep you laughing.

By the end of the day, he's retelling stories and making goofy faces until you're practically wheezing with laughter. You realize his jokes are his way of showing he cares, and soon, you almost forget you're sick at all.

Taehyun

When Taehyun finds out you're sick, he shows up prepared like he's ready to run a full clinic out of your living room. He sets his duffle bag down with a serious look, taking in your tired expression.

"Alright, we're going to tackle this efficiently," he says, quickly unpacking a collection of supplies.

He organizes everything with military precision, lining up medicines by time and even pulling out a whiteboard (where did he get that?) to map out a full schedule for you: pills, water, soup, rest.

"Just follow the plan, babe. You'll feel better in no time," he says with a small smile, patting your hand.

You're a little overwhelmed by his intensity, but deep down, you feel taken care of in a way only Taehyun could manage. With him by your side, even something as tedious as getting over a cold suddenly feels like a breeze.

Huening Kai

Kai hears you're under the weather, and within minutes, he's at your door with an armful of snacks and a warm hoodie. As soon as he sees you, he gasps in sympathy, rushing over to hug you.

"Aw, my poor baby," he says, squeezing you tight. He pulls a blanket around both of you, settling down next to you and making sure you're cozy and warm.

He insists you eat some of the snacks he brought, despite your protests that you don't have much of an appetite. "A little bit of food will make you feel better, trust me," he says, holding out a piece of chocolate until you accept it.

For the rest of the day, he stays right by your side, softly chatting about his day, humming songs, and pulling you close every time you sneeze or cough. Before long, you're drifting off in his arms, comforted by his warmth and gentle care.

❥﹒ txt taglist: @minkilicious @casemoa143 @instabull @lice