#I can’t wait up and have my heart hammering this fast

[vcrnons]

these were taken for me and for only me

[mggslover]

i love your firsts idea and i wanted to know if you could write something with experienced reader/unexperienced spencer where he is like an ass guy cause i always see him being a boobs guy in fics so id like to read something like this, maybe abt how he gets worked up looking at readers ass or some other scenario, totally up to you! love your fics 🩵

spencer seeing you in leggings genre: smut 18+ content warnings: perv!spence having dirty thoughts, dialogue from s9e18 but no spoilers word count: 1,3k a/n: i love your prompt!! i wasn't sure if you wanted reader and spencer to actually do something, so i hope i've found a good balance

“8.49,” Penelope groaned, wiping her forehead after running her third lap in a row. “Good God, that’s not even close.”

Spencer’s breath came in sharp bursts, his hands gripping his knees as he leaned forward. “You think they’ll really terminate us if we can’t run fast enough?” 

“Probably something worse,” she sighed with a shake of her head. “They’ll probably make us take another fit test.” 

Spencer grimaced at the thought. “I’d rather be terminated.” 

Penelope snorted. “I just hope the PT instructors aren’t jerks. Those jock guys are always jerks.”

“Yeah, total jerks,” he agreed with a nod, but then his attention drifted away as he caught sight of two figures in the distance. “That’s probably them right now.” 

Penelope squinted, following his line in sight. “Oh, look,” Penelope hissed, whipping her head back to Spencer. “He’s totally walking like a jerk. And ugh, look at her! That figure… that is just unfair.”

Spencer blinked rapidly as he could recognize your confident, hypnotic stride from miles away. “Wait a minute.” 

“Oh my god, it’s them.” Penelope gasped, confirming Spencer’s suspicion as you and Derek made your way over to them.

“Why are you two here?” Penelope asked, trying to piece together what was going on. 

“It looks like we’re your new PT instructors,” Derek responded, flashing an amused grin. 

The second you came into view, Penelope’s complaints faded into the background, muffled to his ears. Spencer always thought you looked pretty. He admired how professional you looked, even in the field, but today was the first time he saw you outside the office. The training jacket you wore ended just above your hips, the fabric pulling snugly against your torso. His eyes traced the curve of your waist until they landed on your hips. The lavender color of your skin-tight leggings clung softly to your thighs, and Spencer had to fight back a moan at the sight. Penelope was right. Your figure was, indeed, unfair.

"Kid, where's your mind at?"

Spencer's head snapped up at Derek’s question, clearing his throat as he scrambled for an excuse. He could still feel the heat in his cheeks from the way he’d been staring at you.

Derek waved him off with an exasperated shake of his head. "Alright, from now on, I want you two to focus," he commanded in a no-nonsense tone, pointing at Spencer and Penelope.

“Shall we start with stair climbing?” Your voice rang out and Derek nodded in agreement. 

“Let’s do that. Follow us,” Derek said, gesturing toward the stone stairs in the distance. 

You turned to follow Morgan, and the movement knocked the breath right out of Spencer’s lungs. He choked on his inhale, his gaze drawn to the way the fabric of your leggings clung to the plumpness of your cheeks. The tight material left little to the imagination, every contour visible, accentuating the soft swell of your ass with every step. Spencer’s heart hammered in his chest, racing faster than it had during those grueling laps around the field. 

Spencer’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening as he fought the heat beginning to pool low in his stomach. He couldn’t help the way his body was reacting to you, and the effort to control it only made things worse.

The exercise was simple—walking up the first few steps of the stairs and back down again. You called it a warm-up, unaware that every step you took made it harder for Spencer to keep his focus. Just the sight of you moving, the sway of your hips as the leggings stretched over your thighs, was enough to drive him crazy. 

"This is torture," he muttered under his breath.

"I know, right? I can’t believe they’re making us do this." Penelope replied, completely oblivious to the source of his frustration. 

———

Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him as he finally completed the exercise, his legs burning but grateful it was over.

"Good job, Spence," you said, flashing him a bright smile as you gave his chest a quick pat. "And cute outfit," you added with a teasing tone, a compliment that made his heart skip.

"Oh, I—uh, thanks," he stammered, patting his red hoodie as if to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

"We're doing squats next. Derek's with Penelope. Want me to help you with your form?" 

"Sure," he squeaked, his voice betraying his nerves.

You positioned yourself in front of him, glancing over your shoulder to make sure he was paying attention. And, obviously, he was—his gaze fixed on you almost too intently.

"Okay, the most important thing is to keep your back straight," you instructed, your voice calm and focused as you lowered your hips, sliding down until your thighs were parallel to the ground.

Spencer stood right behind you, so close that he could feel the heat radiating off your body. His shorts were growing uncomfortably tight from the proximity. He couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to pull you in by your waist, holding you flush against him.

"See how I'm doing it?" You asked innocently.

"Mhm. Looks good," he breathed out, his eyes lingering on you as he licked his lips.

He could picture it vividly—how perfectly his length would fit between your cheeks. How he would make you repeat that same motion against him until his dick would stand tall in response, throbbing with need. He imagined how easy it would be to slide your leggings down to your knees, leaving you exposed. Were you even wearing anything underneath?

The thought sent a surge of heat through him. He wondered if your closeness was affecting you in the same way. Wondered if he would find you wet, your pussy glistening with anticipation. Would you like him to softly trace your puffy lips with his finger? Or would you want him to waste no time, grabbing you by your thighs as he would enter you? 

He asked himself if you were the type to let him take control, or if you’d bend over, pushing your own hips back against his, matching the deep rhythm of his thrusts. The thought of filling you, of hearing your gasps mix his moans, was clouding his mind. 

Spencer hadn’t realized just how much his thoughts had turned him on, until your voice broke through his haze. 

“Okay, your turn.”

He looked down, seeing how his dick had twitched up to the point where it was almost peeking out of his boxers. Shit. He made quick work of his hands, adjusting himself before you turned around.

“I—I’m so sorry. I need to go,” Spencer stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush before he turned and fled, leaving you without an explanation.

———

“Oh, come on man!” Derek groaned in disappointment as he spotted Spencer slumped on the grass at the far side of the field.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbled.

“Just one more round. You’ve got this,” Derek encouraged.

“I can’t.”

“You’re capable of more than you think.”

“Derek, I swear… I literally can’t get up.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, and with a defeated sigh, Spencer pointed awkwardly toward his shorts.

“Oh shit,” Derek responded as the realization dawned upon him. 

“Is it because of…?” He pointed to the direction where you were standing and Spencer just nodded.

“Damn,” Derek muttered. “Well, okay, just take a break. Have some water. Relax those muscles.” He winced, immediately regretting his choice of words. 

Spencer nervously looked up at him. “Will you tell her?

Derek shook his head. “Nah. As long as you don’t tell Penelope this whole fit test thing is just a formality and that I could’ve got the whole thing waived.”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Can I Ask You a Question?

Eddie Munson x reader

You invite Eddie to hang out and he has a very important question for you

based on this ask

The door to your bedroom opens and as soon as you’re about to turn to see who it is, you feel the bed dip beside you, Eddie now lying on his stomach in the same position you are, feet up and everything. He’s kicking his legs back and forth as he takes the magazine you’re reading from you. He notices that you’re doing one of those quizzes to see who your perfect boyfriend would be and decides that he wants to be yours.

He’s felt this way for a while now but lying here with you as he looks into your eyes, he’s sure. He just doesn’t know how to get the words to come out. He’s not a shy guy so he doesn’t know why he can’t just ask. 

He sets the magazine down on the bed and begins to spin one of his rings around his finger as a way to take away some of that anxiety and it does help, but only for a little bit. You can sense his unease and the two of you sit up before you pull Eddie’s hands into your lap. 

The weight on his shoulder instantly lessens as you hold his hands, that soft smile making its way upon your lips that he’s come to adore. Suddenly, everything feels so easy. Because it is. You make him feel like he can do anything, like the sky is the limit. You’ve shown him that he’s no longer Eddie “the freak” Munson and that no one’s opinion about him matters but his own. 

He loves hanging out with you as friends, but being your boyfriend would be that much better. He wants to kiss you and hold you and tell you how much you mean to him in a romantic sense. He wants to be able to compliment you without having to subtly flirt, to just tell you how pretty he thinks you are whenever you want.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks before nibbling on his bottom lip. His heart is hammering in his chest as he takes a deep breath, the anticipation of your answer getting to him. He knows that there’s very much a chance of getting rejected and that terrifies him. He doesn’t want his feelings to ruin what the two of you have. 

“Of course you can,” you let out a chuckle as you reach forward, one of your hands threading through his hair, giving his scalp a scratch the way you know he likes. His eyes flutter closed at the feeling, but he quickly shakes his head, hating how quickly he’s able to lose focus. 

“I-I was wondering if…” he takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the way you’re playing with his hair and not how fast his heart is beating. 

You stay quiet, waiting for him to say what he needs to. You’re perfectly fine with being patient as you know how hard it can be for him to voice his feelings. You watch him breathe deeply and then he shakes his head, trying to get back on track. 

“I was wondering if I could be your boyfriend.” His warm honey eyes bore into yours, progressively softening as the seconds pass and for a moment, you swear you can see hearts forming in them. 

The room goes silent as soon as the words leave his mouth. You aren’t sure what you were expecting Eddie to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. But can’t help but smile as you give his hand a squeeze, a light laugh passing through your lips. 

“I’d love for you to be my boyfriend, Eddie,” you tell him as a grin spreads out over your face and his quickly matches yours as he pushes you so your back is flat to the bed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He does it over and over until they all melt into one kiss as his lips slot between yours. 

It quickly becomes a mess of teeth clinking together because neither of you can stop smiling, laughs tumbling from your lips as you try to pour your feelings out for each other between kisses, your fingers slotting through his as you eventually figure it out. The two of you fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces. 

Eddie pulls away when you’re both breathless, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping along it as you lean into his touch. You lie for a moment and you don’t even have to ask if Eddie’s thinking because you can see the gears turning. But before you can bring it up, he speaks. 

“I think I love you,” he says, his thumb still moving back and forth across your cheek. The words are so confident and matter of fact that you just know that he means the words and isn’t just saying them because he’s caught up in the moment. Every word that comes out of Eddie’s mouth has a purpose and he nevers says anything he doesn’t mean. 

“I think I love you too,” you reply and Eddie goes in for one of many more kisses of the night before the two of you cuddle up for the very first time as a couple.

[dyaz-stories]

your imprint's on my soul || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: When Hyun-Su's monster shows up at your door, he teases you and implies that Hyun-Su wants more with you than what you've shared before so, when Hyun-Su wakes up, you decide to act on that.

word count: 4.1k

warnings & tags: canon-typical angst, fluff, smut, explicit consent, dry-humping, thigh-riding if you squint, handjob (male receiving), they're both virgins and are both painfully awkward, this is very soft tbh

first one-shot · previous one-shot

This one-shot can be read independently as there is nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts, but I do recommend reading them for context.

A/N: sooo, we've reached the first smutty installment for this series, though this feels so tame and so soft I don't even know if it deserves that name. It's what felt right to me for the development of their relationship and what I think makes sense for their characters! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Hyun-Su always knocks. It doesn’t matter that you’ve told him he didn’t have to anymore, doesn’t matter that you’ve offered to give him a key. He still knocks, a soft rap against your door that you’ve learned to recognize from anywhere you are in the house — it’s probably the first time ever that you are truly thankful for the terrible soundproofing in there. When Hyun-Su isn’t there, you spend your time waiting to hear it again, whether consciously or not.

So when you hear something brutally hitting your door, the sound echoing through your silent house, it doesn’t cross your mind that it could be him.

You stumble through the house to grab your bat, heart beating so fast it’s threatening to fall out of your chest. Whether it’s a monster or a desperate survivor trying to get in, you need to be ready to defend yourself.

You’re slowly approaching the door when whoever — or whatever — is outside hits the door twice more.

“C’mon now, I haven’t got all day.”

You still. You recognize the voice instantly, of course you do, but what you don’t recognize is the tone, or even how loud it is, for that matter.

“Hyun-Su?” you call out quietly.

It’s not the smartest decision, because if it’s not him, it lets whatever’s out there know you’re here, but you can’t see yourself leaving him outside.

“You could say that,” the voice answers, and it’s still obviously Hyun-Su, and it’s still wrong, somehow.

But, after a couple seconds of further hesitation, you decide to open the door anyway. You’ve heard it before, that tone, you think, even if it’s blurry now. Plus, you cannot bear the thought of letting Hyun-Su out there, if it really is him. You tighten your hold on your bat, and carefully open the door.

The second you do, Hyun-Su walks in like he owns the place. It is so unlike him that you get ready to swing, but he spots you and grabs it from your hand easily, using his pull on it to get you closer to him, his other hand coming to your waist to stabilize you with a gentleness that contrasts with the abruptness of his movement. Once he does, he shoots you a grin that makes you knees weak, and, as his blue eyes stare straight into yours, you finally understand what is going on.

“All that for me?” he asks, glancing at the bat.

You don’t bother to answer him. You remember too well the state he was in last time you saw this— well— version of him, and your eyes run over his body, followed by your hands, checking for injuries. But while his sweater is in worst shape than usual, and you find blood that you think is fresh on there, his skin is intact under your fingers.

When you look into his eyes again, you find him staring at you, amused.

“You can keep going,” he teases. Your face starts burning and you take a step back, embarrassed, but he follows right after you, eyes devouring you. “Come on, you know you want to. Why not just give in?”

Your back hits the wall, and he leans closer, like a cat playing with a mouse. The difference is, though your heart is hammering in your chest, you don’t feel that scared. Nervous, sure, but there is no actual threat to his tone, or even to his attitude.

“I’m not— I’m not doing anything Hyun-Su wouldn’t want,” you answer, and you somehow find it in yourself to lift your chin defiantly as you do.

Meeting this version of Hyun-Su’s eyes sends a rush of heat through you once again. Beneath the amusement, there is so much more. Fascination. Adoration, even.

He lets out a brief laugh at your words.

“Please,” he practically purrs, “you can’t think that he doesn’t want this.” You stare at him, and his grin widens. “Maybe you should ask him, then.” He leans closer to you, mouth so close to your ear you can feel his breath tickling your cheek. “Ask him what he thinks about when he’s alone at night.” Your cheeks are on fire. “Ask him what he thinks about when you’re lying in bed next to him.” Your breath catches in your throat. “Ask him what he thinks of doing to you.”

He laughs again, and Lord, you don’t know how your legs haven’t given up underneath you yet.

“Come back to me if he still doesn’t have the guts to do anything,” he whispers in your ear. “For now, I think we’ll take a nap.”

That’s all the warning you get before he collapses into you and you can do nothing but slide down to the floor, holding Hyun-Su’s now unconscious body in your arms. You curse the monstrous part of him under your breath, but you know, deep down, that it’s less about that and more about the fact that he’s leaving you with your whole body practically vibrating with feelings and desires you’ve been having more and more as of late.

Your relationship with Hyun-Su is good. It’s great. It makes you happy, so much happier than you thought would ever be possible after the world ended.

But you’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been a— yearning, a longing for more. Something you haven’t put precise words on, something that is almost fully new to you, because though you had fooled around with the boyfriend you briefly had at the beginning of college, the two of you had never gotten really far. You suspect it’s even more foreign to Hyun-Su.

You do know you have an effect on him, you’re not blind. You know how he can get when he loses himself in you, when he finally lets go of all the weight he carries on his shoulders. You, however, also know how embarrassed he gets when his body reacts to you in ways he can’t fully control. You’re just not sure he’s ready for taking the relationship further and, if you’re being honest, the fear of rejection has kept you from bringing up the subject.

Except that after this conversation, the monster’s words are swirling in your mind, and you can no longer pretend that the desire that makes your pulse quicken isn’t there.

Now’s not the time for that, though. You do your best to carry Hyun-Su to the couch, something you doubt you could have done before the Apocalypse forced you to put on some muscle, cover him with a blanket, just in case, because his sweater is starting to have more holes than fabric, and sit by his side so his head rests on your lap. All that’s left to do now, is to wait for him to wake up.

It’s fine, though.

You’re used to waiting for him.

Hyun-Su opens his eyes, and at first, he just feels warm and good and safe. For once in his life, nothing hurts. Your hand’s in his hair, fingers brushing against his scalp pleasantly every now and then and—

And he doesn’t remember coming to your place or seeing you.

He jumps up, eyes surveying the apartment, which looks the same it always does, then you when he turns around. All he sees there is mild confusion.

“Did you have a bad dream?” you ask.

“Did you see him?” he asks in reply.

You frown for a second, before understanding passes on your face, and Hyun-Su feels the blood draining from his face.

Last time, the monster had been with you for a couple minutes, at most. This time…

He hadn’t thought he would come here. He’d been far away, when the group of humans had gotten attacked. Intervening had been the right thing to do, he’d thought — until he’d started getting shot at. The words they’d hurled at him, he’d all heard before, during a time of his life he wished he could forget. With his attention split between the monsters still trying to get past him on one side, and the arrows and bullets coming from the other side, the monster had managed to take over.

And maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t fought it as hard as he should have.

He had never thought you’d get caught in the crossfire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Are you— Are you—”

Hurt. Angry. Disgusted.

“I’m fine,” you answer him. You don’t hesitate to reach out to gently touch his face, and your smile is so sincere it’s almost blinding. “Nothing happened.”

He leans into your touch, unable to stop himself, and though he still feels the need to protest, it gets easier to believe you each time you reassure him you don’t despise him.

“It didn’t do anything to you?” he asks, voice low and quiet.

You shake your head, but he can’t miss the way you glance away briefly, avoiding his eyes at first.

“He didn’t hurt me,” you tell him, and he can tell it’s true, but—

“What did it do?” There’s urgency in his voice, panic even. He grabs your arms to look into your eyes, the window to the soul, they say, but he cannot read into you, no matter how much he searches.

“Nothing,” you say, but again, he can tell that there’s more to it, and he doesn’t let go, until you cave in. “He just said something.”

“What did he say?” Hyun-Su presses on. Fear is invading his every bone, wrapping its vines around his heart and squeezing it.

“Nothing important,” you insist, but it only makes him more desperate, because if you don’t want to tell him, it must be something bad, must be something deep and dark and twisted, must be something that could make you hate him. When he doesn’t let up, you sigh. “He just said to ask you something.”

Hyun-Su’s mind goes quiet.

“Ask me what?”

His mouth is dry, his lips move painfully.

“Just— He said, I should ask you what you want to— to do to me.”

It’s like a bomb just went off.

Hyun-Su lets go of you. It feels as if his whole face is burning. Shame and embarrassment overtake him, and suddenly he can’t look at you anymore, just wants to run out the door, but his body is refusing to move. He’s stuck in place like a rabbit in headlights.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically, whipping his head in the other direction, since that all he can do.

“So, you, um, you… are thinking about it?” you ask, your voice piercing straight through his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“No, no, I’m, uh—”

You grab his hand, scooting closer to him on the couch, until your knees touch his. And it grounds him. Slowly, reason starts to creep back up from under all the thoughts, and he hears the eagerness in your question.

“J-just so we’re on the same page,” you say, as he slowly turns his head to look at you once more, “you’re thinking about… having sex. With me.”

It’s precious, how you lower your voice to say ‘sex’, and then frown in annoyance at yourself. Hyun-Su still wants to tear his hand from yours, run away before you can tell him how much of a freak, of a monster you think he is. But he can’t.

He thinks he’d rather you rip his heart out, as long as you do it with your bare hands, than to live without your touch ever again.

Slowly, he nods. His face and ears are tingling, and he’s sure he’s bright red by now.

“I shouldn’t,” he mumbles. You’ve given him so much already. So much he hadn’t dared to hope for in years. He shouldn’t ask for even more. He doesn’t deserve more.

But your hands tighten around his. Your mouth opens, closes, your tongue comes out to wet your lips as you hesitate and fidget nervously.

“No, you, uh, you should,” you stutter before catching yourself, closing your eyes like you don’t want to see what’s in front of you before you take a leap of faith. “I mean— I think about it. About you.”

A light buzz starts again in his ears.

“I didn’t know,” you keep mumbling. “I mean, I wasn’t sure that you—” Your gaze goes from his hand to the floor, everywhere so you don’t have to look at him. “That you wanted me. So I’m— It’s, uh, it’s good to know.”

“I want you,” Hyun-Su blurts out without thinking, and of course then you look at him, with wide, pretty eyes, and if he wasn’t blushing before, he sure is now. His face could burst into flames any second. “I hate that I can’t—” His eyes fall on your legs, with the dress you’re wearing riding up on your thighs. “—touch you.” If he wasn’t so scared, if he was braver… “I just…” A whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say patiently. “I trust you.”

“But I don’t,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor. “You’re so— fragile. If I lost control for a second…”

He sees you hesitate. He expects you to tell him, again, that he wouldn’t lose control, maybe that the monster inside him wouldn’t hurt you. Thing is, you might be right, but it doesn’t matter how unlikely it is. That’s not a risk he can take.

“Okay,” you say instead. “Okay. But what if— what if I was the one touching you?”

He almost wishes you hadn’t said it, with how badly he immediately wants it.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says. His throat is dry. His whole body is aching for you.

“And if I want to?” You tilt your head, all pretty, and oh, how can he deny you anything?

“Please,” he whispers.

Your lips part and your breath seems to stutter, before you lean in and kiss him, and it’s like he’s finally come home. It starts off soft, slow, no different from any kiss the two of you have shared in the past weeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, thumb stroking his cheek.

Hyun-Su melts. He parts his lips to welcome in your tongue, lets you take the lead and set the pace for the kiss without thinking about it twice.

Then he feels you move. It’s barely there at first, your hand that’s not on his face coming to rest on his shoulder, and all that is known territory. Even if your fingers actually touch his skin there, because of the numerous holes in his clothing, he can handle that.

His eyes snap open again, though, when you move your leg over his so you can come sit in his lap, straddling him. You notice immediately.

“Is that okay? We can stop—”

“No, I—”

He doesn’t want you to stop. He wants more with you, so bad, and though he would never say it out loud, he’s desperate for you to show him that you’re not disgusted in him. Every time you kiss him, every time you touch him, every time you take his hand and lead him in bed with you, he comes closer to truly believing it.

But, ah, with this last conversation, even if it’s not the first time he’s had you in his lap, he feels— heated. He can feel himself growing hard, and he’s still embarrassed at the thought that you can feel him. Despite what he said, his hands are on your waist, holding tight. He doesn’t remember if he chose to do that.

After all, his desire for you aligns with what the monster wants so closely that he’s— scared. He’s so scared of losing control. But you’re looking at him so lovingly, and he wants you so bad… Can he be selfish? Just this once?

“Don’t stop,” he almost begs, and seeing how eagerly you nod in reply is like an explosion of warmth in his chest.

Your lips crash against his again, harder, with more purpose. Your fingers card through his hair, and the feeling of your light pull on them goes straight to his core, more enjoyable than he thinks it should be, though he’s in no position to linger on it, not when the next thing you do is to experimentally roll your hips on top of him.

From your perspective, it’s a clumsy movement, one you’re unsure of. From his, it’s a rush of pure pleasure when you rub against his hard cock, one that makes him openly moan, his mouth falling open enough that he breaks the kiss. The second he realizes what kind of noise came out of him, he raises his hand to cover his mouth, cheeks turning crimson.

He’s not daring to look at you, not at first anyway, until he feels your lips brushing against his fingers, pressing soft kisses against his hand.

“Still good?” you ask.

And he is, but he’s not trusting his voice all that much for now, so he just nods. A smile dances on your lips as you kiss down his jaw.

“Also,” you add, “I’m not— I don’t have much— experience, in all, uh, that. So you should— you should let me know. What feels good. What doesn’t.”

“That felt good,” he admits quietly, and your smile turns into a grin against his skin.

“I could tell.”

What you don’t say is how hot you found both the sound and the thought that you could affect him like that, how badly you want to press your legs together so you can alleviate the ache you’re feeling down there, how you’re worried you actually want him even more than he wants you.

Instead of saying all that — it would make you feel so naked and so vulnerable, and disarm you completely, which doesn’t seem like a good idea for now —, you start trailing your kisses down his neck. There’s one spot there that makes him whimper, more discreetly than before, but you latch onto it all the same, tongue coming out to flick against the skin, pulling on it softly between your teeth. He writhes and whines under you, and when his cock rubs against you just right, you gasp against him.

You’re delighted to see reddish skin when you pull away. He’ll heal, and there will be no trace of it by morning, but there’s something satisfying about it — and the glassy look he gives you, lips swollen and parted, hair a mess on the back of the couch, with that proud mark right above his collarbone… is purely sinful.

Your fingers hook in his hoodie.

“Can I?” you ask.

He’d go to the moon and back for you.

He nods.

You pull it over his head, struggle a little when it gets caught in his hair, then manage to pull him free and kiss him again with a giggle. It’s sweet. You’re still wearing your dress, but it’s the first time he feels your hands directly on his skin all the same, and even if his body’s burning up, your touch sets him ablaze.

You explore his body with hungry eyes and hands, follow the shape of his pectorals, then move down to his abs. You trace the muscles, slowly, and as you move down, closer to his crotch, he can no longer suppress a shiver. You still for a second, and he watches you with wide eyes, waiting for you to keep moving, so badly wanting you to keep going. Finally, your fingers brush against the button of his jeans. Silently, meeting his eyes, you ask for his permission. He swallows, nods again.

He’s nervous, almost painfully so, but he notices that your fingers are shaking as you have to try three times to get it open, and it reassures him, in some ways. It reminds him that, for all the issues he has, this is new for the both of you. There are no expectations to meet, just the two of you discovering, together, what works for you.

Once the button isn’t in the way, you, very carefully, move your hand under his jeans, but over his boxers. The second he feels your hand hesitantly closing over his cock, even through the fabric, he throws his head back, trying his best not to moan again and only half-succeeding.

You watch his reactions closely as you keep touching him, slipping your hand under the boxers after a few seconds. This time he does moan, a high-pitched noise that you take to mean you’re doing something right — even if you have no idea what you’re doing. How tight should your grip be? How fast should you move? Should you be saying something? Should he be saying something?

His cock is rock hard between your fingers, harder than you’d have expected; larger, too. It seems to have been that way for a while, maybe since you’ve started kissing, based on how wet with precum it is. You tighten your grip around it a little, then slide your hand down, slowly, down to the base. He moans again, and you feel him twitch between your fingers.

“Um,” you mumble, “I, uh, I don’t really know— is that— is there anything I should—”

Hyun-Su’s looks up at you, flushed and panting. One of his hands comes to your thigh, and now you’re the one shivering under his touch. You don’t think he even notices though. You’re dripping wet yourself, but for now you just want to make him feel good. If things go well, if he stays open to this sort of things, there’ll be plenty of time to deal with that… later. At the moment, all you want is to show him that pleasure doesn’t have to lead to anything negative.

“J-just, keep going,” he mumbles. “You can, ah, you can go a little faster, if you…”

The rest of his words gets lost in the next moan as you follow his advice, moving your hand up and down his cock, the wetness helping the movement. Despite yourself, you rock your hips against his leg, the pressure of it between your legs feeling so delicious, you can’t deny it to yourself at the moment.

Under you, Hyun-Su is lost in pleasure. Your rhythm is hesitant, you’re not holding him quite as tight as he’d like, but oh, your hand is soft and gentle, and it still feels so much better than his own. The fact that you’re all pressed against him, your breath against his neck, your scent filling him, it’s all much more than what he had imagined — because, yes, in shameful moments, he’d pictured this kind of scenes, but they had never felt as good, pleasure running through his veins and flooding his body.

Any time he indulged in them, though, he came faster than usual, and now, with the real thing, he realizes too late how quickly he is approaching his climax.

“Wait,” he hears himself mumble, “I’ll—”

But he’s already coming, and the strength of the orgasm leaves him breathless as he humps against your hand, trying to make it last longer.

“Oh,” is all you comment, and even through the haze, embarrassment spreads through him as he realizes that there’s cum on your hand and on his stomach. At least he cannot turn any redder now.

“Sorry,”  he mumbles, “sorry, I—”

“No, I— I thought that was pretty hot, actually,” you say, giving him a smile, and thank fuck you’ve taken his hand off him, because he wouldn’t want to have to explain why that’s making him twitch again. “I’ll just— you probably want to get cleaned up.”

“I’m— Yeah, but—” He glances down at your body. He felt you rocking against him earlier, even if he wasn’t exactly in the right mind to say something about it. “Don’t you— Don’t you want to, uh…”

“Ah, I’m fine, I just— I just wanted to make you feel good for now.”

And just as he thought his heart rate might go back to normal at some point, there it is, spiking again.

“We can do that— some other time. If you’d like to.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t give to you.

“I would. I would like that.”

Your smile is a promise for more, your kiss is sweet, and for the first time in forever, Hyun-Su forgets about the monster.

He’s in your arms, and it’s all that matters.

i’ve been trying to figure out what to put here. i already feel like i’m kinda begging for comment on my posts, which i don’t like doing, but i figured i’d try to explain at least once what i’ve been feeling lately — plus i'm starting a new job on Monday and i don't know how much time i'll have to write after that. truth is, the lack of interactions i’ve been getting on here, on these stories, has been kind of depressing to me. i know people are reading them, considering the amount of notes, and it’s hard not to question whether it’s my writing that’s not good enough to make people want to leave a comment, or if it's just how fandom is now and in that case it just might not be for me anymore. i mean, i write for myself first, but i post because i want to share with others, i want to see their reactions, know how my writing makes them feel… and lately it just feels like i’m screaming in the void and nothing else. it’s been hard to stay motivated honestly. so, yeah. you don’t have to leave a comment, especially if you didn’t like it, i get it, i’m not trying to guilt-trip you. i just. feel the need to explain this at least once, in case it changes someone’s mind, and if it doesn't, i'll know i tried. if you've ever commented, reblogged with tags, sent an ask, know that i'm so thankful for you and you truly keep me going.

next one-shot

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare through the window as hammering echoes through the glass. Despite the muffling of the barrier between you, it’s loud enough to put you on edge. Or maybe that’s because of the man calmly bringing the iron down on the nails. 

As if he can sense you, he looks up, his dark hair flopping back. You quickly spin away. You have to be going stir crazy. Bucky was just concerned. A lot of people come up this way and get freaked out by the wilderness. You used to when you visited as a child. 

You go back to the kitchen and take out the ingredients for your grandma’s classic turkey stew. It’s always a comfort as the temperature starts to drop. Still, it’s never as good as she made it. One day, you might figure out the secret. 

Cooking is a good distraction. There isn’t much to do up here. Often, you enjoy that facet of your existence. You work then disconnect and just do your own thing. Now you can’t help but feel the desolation. 

Thunk, thunk, thunk. The hammering continues. You put the turkey into roast. It’s always better to season and cook it first then shred it up for the stew. You set the broth to simmer with the chunked veggies and pace the kitchen as you wait for it all to come together. 

You use a fork to pick the meat of the turkey legs and dump it all in the boiling pot. Another hour to meld together and it’ll be ready to serve. The longer you let it, the better. It’s always best the day after. 

The silence doesn’t hit you until you hear the back door. The smell of pine follows Bucky inside. You put your attention to the pot and stir it. 

He sniffs and sighs loudly as he enters. “Ah, smells delicious. Chicken?” 

“Turkey,” you correct him as he twists on the faucet and squirts soap into his hands. He lathers up and looks at you. “It’s funny. Back in my day, not to sound like a crotchety old geezer, women cooked. They had recipe cards on the counter. These days, half the girls I talk to can only use some app to order pizza that tastes like ketchup on cardboard.” 

“Oh, yeah? I kinda miss fast food,” you say dully. 

“Huh. ‘Cause I miss the home cooking. It’s just... simpler.” He shuts off the tap and shifts closer, drying his hand on the dishcloth as he looms. “If it hadn’t all gone to shit, I probably woulda found a good woman. Settled down, lived the good life.” 

“Right,” you nod awkwardly and set the spoon down.  

He clicks his tongue and turns, putting his hand on the counter as he leans on one foot. His other hand goes to his hip. “But then I wouldn’t be here.” 

“Fair,” you say, distancing yourself as you step around him to get to the fridge. “I got some cider left over? Want some? It’s mulled. Julian down by the Rocks makes it--” 

“Think I’m good,” he says. 

You put the large glass jug on the counter and open the cupboard. Bucky catches it and shoves it closed with a snap. You face him in surprise. He’s strong. You know that but feeling it is something else. 

“Sorry, I... I’m in your way?” You wonder. 

“No, you’re right where you should be,” he says. 

You try not to lean away from him. Your heart is racing. You swallow and peer over at the dimming window. 

“I could help you cover up the lumber before--” 

“Already did that,” he interjects. “You know, I think I’m where I need to be too,” he edges closer. “Think after everything, I did find that good woman.” 

You blink, speechless. You can barely think above the tempo behind your ears. 

“I hear it.” He puts his fist to his chest and knocks on it. “I know you feel it too.” He stills his hand and holds it over his heart. “I was pissed when Sam brought me up here. Dropped me off like some stray dog. The longer I’m here, the more I realise he did me a favour. He didn’t dump me on you...” you wince as he pulls his hand away from his chest and opens it to cradle your face, “he gave me you.” 

“Bucky,” you latch onto his wrist but can’t move it. “I think we need some space. Don’t you?” 

“No,” he says flatly. 

“You spend too much time in the same proximity, and it starts to get weird--” 

“No,” he repeats. “I’m right. It’s perfect. You’re strong, you cook, you’re handy, not afraid to get a little dirty,” he slides his hand down to cup your chin. You flinch but can’t pull away. “And you got a nice ass.” 

“Bucky,” you breath and gently shove his chest. “I’m saying to you that you’re wrong. I’m flattered and all but no.” You push harder as he squeezes tighter. You whimper, “ow, let me go. I’m calling Sam-” 

“Shh,” his other hand swoops up to back of your skull. He lurches you closer, bringing you to your nose as he snarls down at you. “You’re not calling anyone.” 

“Bucky--” 

“It’s the way you say my name,” he growls. 

“Please, you’re hurting me--” 

He hushes you again as his thumb rubs behind your jaw. He turns you so your penned in against the counter. You splay your fingers across his chest, dragging them down to his stomach as you push on him. He stands unmoving. 

“Let go--” 

“You. Let go,” he insists calmly. “You built this wall around you. Let it down,” he drops his hand from your head and lets it trail down your back, “let me in.” 

“No, I’m telling you.” You squirm against him. “Stop this, right now.” 

“I know you want me. I found that toy. The little flower, hm?” He tickles along your side, your jaw aching in his grip. “You wanna feel the real thing? Huh?” 

“Please,” you clasp the fabric of his shirt in your fingers. 

“Doll, I want you think about this,” he buries his thumb behind your jaw until you whine. “You’re up here all by yourself. Lonely days, lonelier nights. Anyone could catch on. They could figure out just as fast as I did.” He leans in until you’re nearly bent backwards. “You need a man because any old beast could snatch you up.” 

Your eyes glisten and you search his face. He doesn’t look human. He’s animalistic. His eyes are dark and dilated and his jaw is set with slathering hunger. Your lip trembles. 

"Wouldn't you rather have the beast on your side, doll? Instead of tearing it down?” He purrs and shifts his hand around your chin, bringing his thumb up to poke at your lower lip. “I can be good for you, all you gotta do, is the same.” 

[kimmryokoo]

Why would you love an animal like me? - logan howlet

author: kim ryoko

masterlist

summary: logan has a nightmare about all the people he has killed in the past and starts to think you deserve to be with someone better than him. luckly, you are there to tell him otherwise.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: feeling of not deserving someone, agnst, comfort, emotional dependence, nightmare/slight insomnia, slightly sub logan

author note: english isn't my first language, so i'm sorry for any grammar mistakes, feel free to correct me. also, i don't know how to feel about this fic, but i hope you like it. and i'm sorry it's short.

A nightmare… again.

But this time, it was different. I din’t dream about the wars; I had a dream about all the people I’ve killed, and God… there where so many.

Maybe I am a monster. An animal, like everyone calls me.

Well, not everybody. She doesn’t call me that. She’s too kind hearted to think that way about anyone; even me. Most times, think I don’t deserve her. That she deserves someone better than me. But she’s always there to tell me I’m wrong. To tell me that I’m actually a kind person that truly deserves to be loved. I want to believe her. I really do. But my mind is always playing these little fucking tricks on me, showing me the bad person everyone knows I am, and I slowly start to believe it’s true again. Why can’t I just live in peace?

If I lived in peace, she could live in peace too. With me.

But why would an animal live in peace?

I wake up, once again, with my claws out and a layer of sweat covering me. I retract my claws, seat up and look to my side. Shit. How can someone be this pretty even when sleeping? And just like that, all those thoughts come running back to me and I feel my heart clench. I know I’m selfish for not letting her go and have the life she deserves with someone better, but I can’t bring myself to let her go. Even in the days where one of us is out on a mission for just 1 hour, my hearts starts to ache from how much I miss her. I wouldn’t survive a single fucking day without her. I move myself a bit to seat at the edge of the bed with my head low. My heart starts beating fast again and with every second that pasts, I feel my insecurities get bigger and bigger. I know I’m fucked up when all I want right now is for the woman sleeping next to me to wake up and kiss and hug all my problems out of me. How could I ever let her go? The only thing I can do is wait for her to grow tired of me like everyone has done after their own time.

I heard the sheets moving behind me and, a few seconds later, I feel two arms wrapping themselves around me, one around my neck and one around my chest, two legs wrapping around my waist and a head snuggling itself to my neck. I smell her scent, the only one that can make me go fucking feral in less than 1 second, and, at the same time, bring me peace no one has ever been able to before.

“Why are you awake? Did you have another nightmare?” she asked and I couldn’t bring myself to answer her so I just nodded. I could only think about how she deserves someone better than an old, murderous, shitty animal.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry…” she said like it was her fault “Is there anything I can do to help you?” her sweet voice making me melt more with each passing seconds, but also hammering my heart more knowing that the person she ends up with is the luckiest person on earth and I would do anything in my power to be them. To respond to her question I just moved my head again signing a ‘no’.

As if she understood this was worst than normal, she got up and put herself standing between my legs, while cupping my face. Even with me sitting, she wasn’t that much taller than me,which is another thing I find cute i her. One of the thousands. She tilted my head slightly so I was looking at her and I almost forgot everything just by looking at her loved-filled eyes. Almost. She pulled me in for a slow and soft kiss and kissed my forehead as soon as she broke it. She then hugged my head thigh against her chest and I let myself finally enjoy the care she was giving me and relax for a moment.

“Why do you love me?”

“What do you mean, Logan?” she asked genuinely confused as if the question I asked was the stupidest thing on earth.

“Why would you love an animal like me?” I repeated.

“Don’t say stuff like that Logan, you know I don’t like it. And to answer you question, I love you because, either you believe it or not, you are the kindest, most loving person I ever met. You always put everyone else before you, even Scott. Every time you see someone struggling, or sad, you do your very best to help them. Even though you put this ‘tough guy’ look on you face everyday, deep down, you care more about people then you know. I love you, Logan, because you are always ready to give your life in exchange for someone else’s, even a total stranger’s. I don’t care about what you believe or not, or what people tell you or not, but you, James Logan Howlet, The Wolverine or whatever you want to call yourself, you will never be the animal they make you think you are.”

Fuck.

With that I held her tighter and my body started to shake. When she noticed it, she held me even closer than before and started to play with my hair and kissing the top of my head. She relished me from her grip to cup my face again and see the fear and sadness in my eyes as we held eye contact.

“I’m sorry… For burdenin’ you with all my shit problems” I said with a shaky voice.

“Oh, baby… You’re no burden and neither are your problems. I’m here to help you with all your problems the same way you are always there to help me with mine. Nobody’s perfect, but we can be better with the help of each other.”

After a long moment of comfortable silence, I start to feel sleepy in her embrace and murmur a small ‘Thank you’ and she kissed the top of my head again in return. She feels me getting sloppier in her arms and gently helps me to get in bed. She then goes to the other side of the bed and hugs me again, pulling me into her arms, burying her face in my hair and playing with the little ones at the nape of my neck and whispering how much she loved me.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I let myself believe in her and think that an animal like me actually deserves love.

Needless to say I slept like a rock for the rest of the night, finally, nightmare free.

Hope you liked it!

xoxo, kim ryoko

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

A TRAGEDY THAT'S BUILT ON DESTINY!

I WOULD CHANGE MOST EVERY SINGLE THING. I WOULD LET YOU KISS ME, KILL ME!

synopsis// multiple different universes, but one thing remains the same: geto loves you in each and every one of them.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 5.8k

contents// different universes, angst, satisfying angst?, hurt/no comfort but also hurt/comfort at the same time, ooc geto?, character death tehe

notes// inspired by everything everywhere all at once and the song kiss me kill me by mest :3 i wrote this SOOOO long ago but u have no idea how much i adore this oneshot. like i think it might be my fav oneshot ive ever written. it is everything to me!! and i did not do the idea justice but u get the point!!

December 24th 

You assume the fight is over because neither you nor Shoko have gotten any more wounded victims. The two of you glance at each other briefly but don’t bother saying anything. What could be said about a full-blown borderline war schemed by your high school best friend and lover? Nothing could possibly be said, so nothing is. The two of you stand there waiting for anything to happen, whether that’s getting called back to Jujutsu High or being brought another victim, and eventually something does happen, and Shoko gets a call. You can’t read her expression for the whole 20 seconds she’s on the phone before she passes it to you. You furrow your eyebrows in question.

“It’s Gojo,” she says blankly before attempting to hand you the phone again.

You hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“You should get down here,” he says blankly over the phone.

“What? Why? Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah, just—you know those back alleys by the school?”

“Uh huh?”

“Meet me there.”

“Gojo, you’re kinda scaring me-“

“Y/N, just come; you’ll thank me—I hope.”

You frown and begrudgingly agree, “Okay, fine, yeah, whatever, I'm on my way.”

“Make it quick, alright? I'm serious,” he adds quickly before hanging up.

As you give Shoko her phone back, you roll your eyes at the fact that he didn't even give you a chance to say okay before hanging up.

“What was that about?” she wonders, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

You sigh. “No idea, but he wants me to go meet up with him for some reason.”

Shoko hums curiously. “You should get going then; must be urgent.”

You nod, “Yeah.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It doesn't take you long to get to the school given how fast you were walking since Gojo told you to hurry it up, the tense anticipation aiding in your speed. It does, however, take you a few moments to find Gojo, but once you do, you find that he's not looking at you, but he’s speaking, and it's not to you either; it's to something—or rather someone—he's blocking with his body.

“Gojo?” you ask once you finally reach him.

Gojo turns to face you, a sorrowful smile on his face, before stepping out of the way to reveal who he was speaking to and the whole reason why he called you here in the first place.

When you see Getou on the ground, your heart sinks into your stomach, and your blood runs cold. You look back at Gojo, who merely shrugs.

“You should say your goodbyes; I already did,” Gojo whispers before leaving you and Getou alone.

Getou lets out a hushed laugh. “That’s a little melodramatic of him, don’t you think?”

The hammering of your heart roaring in your ears makes it difficult to hear what he says. You stand there frozen in what you can only describe as horror as you stare down at Getou, who's missing an arm and is only growing more pale by the second from blood loss.

“Do you plan on ignoring me?” he asks softly, as though he’d understand if that really was your plan.

You blink a few times and shake your head, your tears blurring your vision. “I dont-“ 

Getou hums appreciatively and smiles up at you, which makes you completely break down, a sob racking through your body so violently that the only thing you can do is collapse to your knees. Getou winces as he tries to sit up straighter, as if he’s going to catch you or crawl over to you. You sniffle, your sobbing uncontrollable, as you crawl to him, and once there, you let your head fall upon his blood-stained chest. Getou immediately places his only remaining hand on the back of your head, as if holding it to his chest, and gently pats your head.

“Are you an idiot?” you snap.

“Might be.” 

You sob even harder into his chest. “Why would you do this?”

Your question makes his heart race. “I wanted something better for Jujutsu society.”

You shake your head at him disapprovingly. “Why’d you have to go about it this way?”

“I don’t know Y/N," he sighs. "Does it make a difference?”

You scoff, raising your head to glare at him. “Of course it does, you idiot! You left! and had a hit placed on you! Why couldn’t you have just stayed?” You sob, letting your head fall back onto his chest. “Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as you wanted this? Why couldn’t... Why couldn’t you have wanted me as much as I wanted you?”

“Y/N,” he coos regretfully, as if he doesn’t know what to say, which he doesn’t. He did want you, and he’d even go as far as saying he wanted a better jujutsu society for you so you wouldn’t have to live your days slaving away for the non-sorcerers. “Y/N, look at me.”

You shake your head and screw your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him. You don’t want to see your first and only love withering away right in front of you.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

“I-I can't."

“Y/N, open your eyes.”

The demandingness dripping from his voice has your head shooting up to look at him and your eyes opening wide, but as you open them, you’re not met with an actively dying Getou; you're met with a sunny and flower-filled meadow? You move to wipe your tears, but your face is dry. You blink a few times, trying to take in your new surroundings, given that a moment ago you were just in a dark alley and now you're sitting on a blanket in a field under a glowing sun.

“Y/N?” Someone speaks from beside you.

Your attention is drawn to the person. “Getou?” 

He smiles at you.

“Getou, where are we?” you ask, now starting to slightly panic.

He looks at you in confusion. “We’re on our date?”

Your chest heaves up and down, and you're more confused than ever. “Huh? But- We-“ 

“We what?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We were just behind Jujutsu High; you were missing your arm, and-"

Getou scoots in closer to you and cradles your face in his hands. The feeling of a warm, full-of-life Getou touching you brings tears to your eyes all over again.

“Woah, woah, love, calm down. What are you talking about? Jujutsu High? Me missing an arm?”

“You don’t remember?” You croak out, distraught, and slightly convinced that you’re going crazy.

“Remember what, love?” he asks softly.

You stare at him in disbelief. “The fight—you wanted a better jujutsu society, and you tried? You lost your arm! You were dying; I saw you! I was there with you! You were covered in blood and-“ 

Getou gently wipes your tears away. “Love, that didn’t happen. I’m here, yeah? and I have both my arms, and there was no fight for Jujutsu society? Whatever that means..."

You blink at him, dumbfounded. “What?” 

“It was probably just a bad dream, Y/N.” He smiles at you reassuringly.

“You don’t know about jujutsu society?”

“Am I supposed to?”

You stare at him in awe. What’s happening? How could he not know about jujutsu society when it was the very thing he was fighting for? But then again, how could he not be missing an arm? And how could the two of you not be in a dark alleyway right now? How could any of this be happening? Maybe he’s right; maybe it really was a bad dream. A very vivid, detailed, lucid, and lifelike bad dream.

“I guess not,” you respond with a frown.

Getou wipes away your last few tears and smiles at you. “You’re okay; I’m okay. We’re okay. It was just a bad dream, love.”

“Yeah,” you say haltingly, "yeah, I guess it was..."

“Are you okay now?”

You nod as you take one of his hands off your face and into your own. “Yeah, I think so... Um, where are we, Getou?”

“On our weekly date?” He answers curiously as he removes his other hand from your face.

You look around at your surroundings curiously. “In the middle of a forest?”

“This is your favorite place, Y/N,” he says, quizically.

As you take another glance around, you hum, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I can see why; it’s beautiful here.”

He raises his free hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N, are you okay? How come you don't remember?”

You look into his eyes, and something doesn't feel right—as if you're not meant to be here—but you digress and shrug anyway. “I don't know...”

He frowns briefly before leaning in and giving you a quick peck on the lips, and you practically melt, having not felt his lips on yours for far too long.

“That's alright. We can still make the most of the rest of our day, right?”

You nod, and he smiles at your response, letting go of your face and hand to open his arms to you, inviting you into his embrace. You return the smile before laying yourself in his arms, trying to ignore the rising feeling that something is wrong, but you can't because the minute your head touches his chest, you're thrown into a moment, a memory, a dream? where you're back in the alley with your head on a bleeding-out Getou, and it's just for a split second, a flash in time, but it's enough to make you go stiff and your breath hitch.

Getou rubs his hand down your back soothingly. “Hey, what's wrong?”

You swallow harshly and try to concentrate on the green scenery in front of you rather than whatever you keep seeing. “Nothing, I'm fine. It's fine.”

Getou places his head on top of yours. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I am.”

He hums disapprovingly but doesn't press the issue any further; instead, he just runs his hand up and down your spine in an attempt to calm you down, which works as you begin to relax into his embrace and regain control of your breathing.

“What do we usually do here?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He shrugs. “Usually just talk about our days, our future plans, and stuff like that.”

You hum. “Is it nice?”

“Very nice; I like spending our days together.”

“I do too,” you correct yourself, “or I'm sure I did too.”

Getou doesn't say anything; instead, he lays himself down and, since he's holding you, takes you with him. You sigh contentedly and let your eyes flutter close, the sun and his hold keeping you warm. Suddenly, even with your eyes closed, you can tell it's getting brighter outside, and you groan. You’re about to ask what's up with the sun when a shooting pain in your head causes you to wince. Your heartbeat rings in your ears, and you can feel your hands grow clammy.

You feel unstable, as if you're no longer on the ground being held, as if you're floating through time and space, and the uncertainty forces your eyes open, but you're not met with anything—no, that's not right, you're met with everything, glimpses of time that you can barely make out. One moment you see Getou at an alter, and then you see you and Getou nodding to each other in determination, and the next glimpse is of you, Getou, Gojo, and Shoko laughing about something before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you hiss in pain, and all too suddenly, you're back on stable ground, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone.

You still hesitate to open your eyes, unsure of what you'll see, but when you can just barely make out that you're not where you were before, your eyes shoot open. You're now standing in the doorway of what appears to be the room of two teen girls, and Getou is sitting at a vanity staring at you; his hair and make-up are done, and he's frowning. Despite your confusion about where you are, you can't help but burst out into a fit of laughter.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Oh haha, yeah, keep laughing.”

You slap your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. “What happened?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, mumbling, “Our daughters thought I would make a very good model, apparently.”

You go to laugh again, but it hits you, and you look at him like he's crazy. “Sorry, daughters?”

He returns the look. “Yes? Our kids?”

You look away, muttering to yourself, “We have kids...”

You didn't mean for him to hear it, but he does anyway and instantly stands up and makes his way toward you. He grabs your shoulders, drawing your attention to him, and when you look at him, he's staring back at you in concern.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You want to take him seriously, but truthfully, you can't when he’s wearing bright pink lipstick and bright pink eyeshadow. He does look cute, though. You try to bite back a smile.

“I'm sorry, but I can't take you seriously when you look like that.”

Getou sighs. “I know I look amazing. Can you try to ignore my beauty for like five seconds and tell me why you’re acting like you don't remember our kids?”

You frown. What are you supposed to tell him? That you're apparently having nightmares upon nightmares about different lives with him? And now you're not sure what's real and what's not? You can't say that, so instead you shrug and merely mutter, “You do look amazing like that, though.”

His head drops to the side at the same moment that his smile fades. “Y/N.”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“Some really weird shit is going on, Getou,” you breathe out heavily.

He doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing your hand and leading you to one of your apparent kids' beds, where he sits you down.

“What’s going on?”

“I don't know, and you wouldn't know either so,” you explain vaguely in frustration.

He gives your hand a squeeze. “Maybe I would?”

You shake your head. “I don’t wanna waste time on that; I don't know how long I have here.”

“What?” he asks blankly. “What do you mean you ‘don't know how long you have here’?”

“Getou,” you whine, not wanting to think or talk about it because you wouldn't even know where to start; all you want is to learn about this new nightmare and what it holds.

He relents. “Okay, I won't ask.”

You smile at him and let a moment of silence pass before asking, “What are they like?”

“Huh?”

“Our kids—daughters.”

Getou hums. “They’re great; we raised them well.”

“They are especially great at making you a model, huh?” you snicker. 

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Oh whatever, you're just jealous they never make you model.”

You shrug. “What are their names?”

“Well, we were gonna keep the names they had when we adopted them, but they ended up not having any names at all, so we settled on Nanako and Mimiko.”

You stare at him in awe. “Did you pick the names out?”

“We both did,” he recalls fondly and vividly, as if it were just yesterday that the two of you were picking out names.

“And we are...?”

He kisses your cheek before answering, “Married—we’re married.”

You hum and raise your left hand, your gaze fixed on your ring finger. “I don't see a ring?”

He hums curiously. “You were wearing it this morning? Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”

You nod. “Yeah.. Maybe..”

Getou doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. What could he? His partner of multiple years suddenly has some form of amnesia and can't remember that they have kids, let alone that they’re married to him. You turn to face Getou. He looks like Getou—like the Getou you know, who apparently was merely a nightmare. Besides all the makeup and stuff, he looks like Getou. He says he’s Getou, but something just feels off.

“Are you real?”

He nods. “Very real.”

You look around the room, taking in the messy vanities, the messy beds, and the drawers stuffed with clothes. “Are our kids real?”

“Extremely real.”

You study his face for any hint of uncertainty, and when you find none, you ask, “Am I real?”

He narrows his eyes at you and hums curiously. letting go of your hand only to bring both hands up to your face and start smooshing your face together, pushing and pulling at the flesh on your cheeks.

“Getou,” you mumble.

He hums approvingly and nods, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Yep, you’re real.”

You smile at his idiotic antics but appreciate them nonetheless. And although you can touch him and feel him, and he is real, as are you and your kids, it still doesn't seem real. And then, all too suddenly, your head starts throbbing again.

“Fuck no, not again,“ you panic.

“Y/N? whats wrong-“

You can't hear what he’s saying anymore; it's like you've gone underwater and he's speaking to you from the surface. Another shooting pain in your head has your eyes screwing shut, and you know you're fucked when all you can hear is your heartbeat ringing in your ears and feel your hands grow clammy all over again. You’re back to feeling unstable, drifting between time and space once more, and just like last time, the uncertainty of the feeling forces your eyes open, and you're faced with everything again—more glimpses in time that you can barely make out.

One moment you think you see yourself back at the beginning on Getou’s cold chest, and then you see yourself and Getou covered in blood, and you're not sure if it's yours or someone else's, and the next glimpse you see is of Getou on your cold chest, like your roles had been reversed, before you’re hit with another shooting pain in your head. Screwing your eyes shut, you wince in pain, and finally you're back on solid ground again, no longer floating, and the brightness you could see through closed eyes a moment ago is gone. This time you don't hesitate to open your eyes, and you find yourself in a cemetery.

You look around curiously, trying to assess your surroundings while simultaneously trying to recover from whatever just happened. But you're starting to realize something now. All of this is real. You laying on Getou’s chest was real; having a picnic with a perfectly fine Getou in a world where curses apparently don't exist was real; having kids and marrying Getou was real; and all of those little bits of time in between each new life were real. All of it was real—is real; all of it happened—is happening; it just didn't happen to you specifically. Not this version of you, at least. You’ve realized that you’re experiencing different universes and living alternate lives of your own. You didn’t think alternate universes existed, but it's not too hard to accept when the world you live in—the world you belong to—is riddled with curses and sorcerers. You are not above believing in alternate dimensions.

Finally over your sudden epiphany, you're able to realize that you weren't immediately met with Getou like you had been the past two times you got transported into another dimension. As you put the pieces together, a grave feeling washes over you—no Getou, and you’re in a cemetery. You swallow harshly.

No, no, no.

You start running around the cemetery, inspecting each and every headstone, and praying to the universe(s) that you aren't about to find one that reads his name.

No, no, no.

You keep running, the cemetery seemingly interminable, until you run up behind someone who looks suspiciously a lot like Getou, and when you hear him murmur under his breath, you sigh heavily in relief that it is him, but why is he here? You tilt your head and try to look around him to read the gravestone.

“What the fuck?” you exclaim, stunned.

Getou spins around faster than you can even blink, and he almost chokes on his spit. “Y/N?” His chest heaves up and down as he shifts his gaze between you and the gravestone. “But-but-how-you’re-“

“Dead apparently,” you say, finishing his sentence as you stare at the gravestone that reads, "HERE LIES L/N Y/N."

He stares at you, completely bewildered, and you can see him trembling. “How—how are you here?”

Will something bad happen if you tell him this isn't your universe and there are actually multiple universes out there? Who knows, but you’re about to find out.

“I'm not, well, I'm not supposed to be.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I'm just hallucinating; you’re not real.”

His reply breaks your heart. “I am real.”

“You’re not.”

You step forward, taking his hand in yours. “I am.”

He finally opens his eyes back up, and he stares at you through tears, completely amazed that you're here, that you're actually touching him, and that you're actually alive and real.

“I don't—I dont understand—you're dead!” He stammers, yanking his hand from yours, and as he breaks out into full-on sobs at this point, he’s reminding you an awful lot of yourself in your own world.

You nod slowly. “In this universe, it seems so... how?”

“What?” he stutters. “This universe?”

You ignore his question. “How did I die, Getou?”

He shakes his head sternly. “No, I'm not saying anything until you explain what you meant. What if you’re a curse? What if I cursed you, holy fuck? Fuck!”

“Okay, curses still exist in this universe; good to know,” you acknowledge with a nod.

Getou snaps, “What are you talking about!?”

You flinch, which only makes him sob harder.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap—I'm just so fucking confused; you're supposed to be dead,” he bawls as he falls to his knees.

You take another step closer and kneel down, drawing him into your embrace and letting him sob into your chest for as long as he needs, ignoring the horrible feeling of deja vu crawling all over you like worms.

“Shh, you're okay,” you whisper, soothingly brushing your fingers through his hair.

He finally starts to calm down after a few more minutes of whispering sweet nothings to him, and once he’s no longer sobbing, he pulls away.

“Answer my question, and I'll answer yours,” he says through sniffles.

You nod. 

“What were you talking about, universes? How are you here, Y/N? You’re dead—or you’re supposed to be...”

“Do you believe in alternate or multiple universes?”

He shrugs and wipes away any remaining tears. “I don't know; I never really thought about it.”

You hum and nod. “Right, so, uh, they exist! There are a lot of universes out there, actually." You let out an uneasy laugh.

He stares at you curiously.

“Obviously, I'm not from this universe.”

He continues staring at you.

“Oh, cmon, curses exist, but you draw the line at alternate dimensions?”

Getou frowns and says, “I guess you’re right... So you’re from a ‘different dimension’?”

You point a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don't air-quote me like you don't believe me; how else would I be here right now if I were supposedly dead?”

“I don't know; that's what I'm trying to figure out!” he exclaims, gesticulating wildly.

“Can you just humor me and hear me out?”

He takes a deep breath before ultimately agreeing, “Okay, fine.”

You clasp your hands together. “Okay, um, in my universe, you’re dead.”

“What?!”

You shake your hands and your head. “Ok, no wait! You’re not dead yet, but, uh, you were like on the verge of death when I got put into another universe.”

He looks at you in disbelief. “And you just left me?!”

“It wasn't on purpose! Why would I want to leave you when you’re dying? I don't know how I ended up here! or in the last two other universes!”

He stops you and asks, "Okay, okay, wait—how am I dying?”

You look away awkwardly. “You wanted to change jujutsu society in… a not-so-friendly way... And, um, you were willing to die for your cause.”

“I'm dying the same way you did?”

You return your attention to him. “What?”

Getou nods. “Yeah.”

You shake your head. “What do you mean you're dying the same way I did?”

“In this universe, you’re the one who wanted to change jujutsu society in a... not-so-friendly way,” he explains sheepishly.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself.

He nods again. “So, in yours, our roles are reversed.”

“And I'm dead already? I didn't even last as long as you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess," he shrugs, "but it worked; there hasn't been a curse, at least not a special-grade one, since you died." His eyes gleam as he looks up at you. “Did I succeed?”

You bite the inside of your cheek anxiously and shake your head.

“I'm dying for nothing, then?”

You look away and mumble, “My Getou is okay with it; he knew he might fail—he knew Gojo was the only one who could probably change anything—but he still wanted to try.”

“Okay, well, this—” he gestures to himself, “Getou isn't okay with it.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, well, you’re also still alive, so it doesn't really affect you that much, now does it?”

“Still! You just told me one version of myself is dead—or dying—and I'm supposed to be chill with that?”

You stare at him blankly. “Your version of me is dead.”

Getou grows quiet, and you can almost physically see how his demeanor wilts away.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You said you were in two other universes before this one, right?”

You nod. 

“What were they like?”

You smile as you think back on the previous universes: “We were both alive and happy, and we were together in them.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... and curses didn't exist either.”

“Huh,” he says ambivalently, like he's not sure whether to be happy for his other selves or be bitter that that isn't him. “Tell me more?”

“In the first one, we were actually on a date in some forest that I apparently loved.”

He stares at you wide-eyed, completely engrossed in your retellings.

“In the second one, we were married.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Really?”

You nod. “We even adopted two daughters.”

“What were they like?” he wonders, enamored by some alternate universe of you two.

“I'm not sure; I didn't get to meet them,” you confess meekly. “But I know their names were Nanako and Mimiko, and they loved doing your hair and makeup. You adored them, and I'm sure I adored them too.”

He nods wistfully. “In your universe, were... were we together?”

“For a bit.” You look away sadly. “We broke up when you, uh, went off and wanted to-“

“Change jujutsu society,” he chimes in.

“Yeah... How'd you-“

“Same thing here, just roles reversed, remember?” He laughs sadly.

You nod. “Did you still love me? even after I'd gone off and did what I did?”

“I did. I do,” he quickly corrects himself. “Did you?”

“I still do.”

The two of you sit looking away from each other in glum silence. It's hard to stay upbeat about your happy alternate selves when your actual selves are currently dying or dead.

“Kinda feels like we got the short end of the stick, don't you think?” Getou mumbles softly.

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, there are no curses in those universes, and we’re both alive and happy, but in ours we’re dead?” he elaborates.  

You nod reluctantly. “Well yeah, but I don't know; I guess it's kinda nice to know that it worked out in at least one universe.”

“Don't you wish it worked out in ours?”

“Of course I do, Getou; what kind of question is that?" you scoff. "You think I want to go back to my universe just to watch you die?”

“Well,” Getou pauses, turning to face you, “what if you don't go back?”

Your gaze zeroes in on his. “What?”

“What if you stay?…”

You abruptly stand up and chuckle uncomfortably. “Getou-“ your sentence is cut short by an echo of your name that only you seem to hear because you're the only one gazing in the general direction it seemed like it came from.

Getou joins you on your feet and follows your stare, but when he realizes you aren't staring at anything, he returns his sight to you.

“Think about it.”

His voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look back at him with a small frown.

“I'm practically dead in your universe, and you're dead in mine, but we’re together right now!" he says, taking your hand in his. "Maybe the universe put you into mine for a reason— so we don't have to go back to one where we’re not together…”

You struggle to swallow; your mouth suddenly goes dry as Getou stares at you in full, unadulterated hope, and you can't bring yourself to say anything to crush that.

“Y/N, wouldn't that be nice?”

You nod and murmur, “It would.”

“Then?” he asks expectantly.

Someone calling out your name echoes in your head again, and you quickly look down the street to now see a small, bright light in the distance, and you know your time here is soon coming to an end.

“I... I can't stay, Getou.”

His voice cracks as he panickedly asks, “Why?”

"Because,” you explain with a shake of your head, “I'm not your Y/N, and you're not my Getou.”

“I could be,” he says confidently, or he would have if it weren't for the way his voice trembled.

Your vision goes blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head.

“We could try!”

You sniffle and reiterate, “I can't stay.”

“Please,” he begs through his sobs. “Please, we can make it work.”

You look away from him, trying to fight back your tears, but it's futile; you’re a complete mess, just like he is now. “No.”

His hands shake as he grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Y/N, please, I'm begging you.”

“I cant.”

“Don't leave me again.”

The same voice calling out your name echoes in your head again, this time louder, and the bright light is getting bigger and closer.

“I don't want to go back to a universe where you’re just gonna leave me either, but,” you sob, weakly clinging onto the wrists of his hands that are still on your face.

“So stay.”

You shake your head and take his hands off your face. “I won't.”

Getou’s head goes limp and drops as sobs shake his entire body, and you can't help but think that's exactly how you'll look when you return to your universe and have to deal with the death of your Getou.

“Please,” he pleads.

You're both in tears as you lift his head up by his chin to look at you. The voice calling your name echoes even louder, and the bright light is getting closer by the second.

“You’re not my Getou, and I'm not your Y/N.”

He nods reluctantly. “I know, but...“

The bright light is only a few feet away at this point, and the voice echoing in your head is so loud that it's giving you a migraine—you know this is your last few minutes, if that, in this universe, so you lean in and take Getou’s lips into yours—a goodbye kiss for a Getou who you'll never see again, a goodbye kiss for a Getou who desperately needs one when he never got one from his y/n. You pull away and cradle his cheek gently.

“I have to go say goodbye to my Getou now; I think he’s waiting for me.”

He nods. “If he’s anything like me, he’ll want a goodbye kiss too.”

A faint smile tugs at your lips. “I know.”

Getou doesn't get the chance to respond when you're suddenly gone—completely vanished right before his eyes.

You, on the other hand, are back again, feeling unstable as you float through time and space, and again, the uncertainity of the feeling forces your eyes open, but this time you're met with only one thing—the image of you on your Getou’s chest. With every passing second, it grows closer, as does his voice calling out for you, and before you know it, you're back in your body, looking up at him with a gasp.

“Y/N?” he asks weakly.

You're still in tears from the previous universe as you now pull him into your embrace.

He winces, and you quickly let go of him. “Sorry.”

He smiles at you with blood in his mouth and teeth. “It's okay.”

You have to force yourself to look away to try and choke back a sob, but Getou notices immediately and slowly lifts up his remaining hand to cradle your cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

You nod. “I know.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“I know,” you croak out.

“Kiss me?” He asks out of breath, knowing he doesn't have much longer.

You don't hesitate to lean in and kiss him, ignoring how it tastes like blood and tears as well as how cold his lips feel. You ignore it because he's kissing you back. He’s kissing you with all the power his frail body can muster, and it makes up for all the years, months, weeks, days, minutes, and seconds that your lips haven’t touched. But just as quickly as he kisses you, he stops, but it's gradual; he gradually stops kissing, moving, and breathing. It doesn't take long for it to get to that point, and even when he's not kissing back, you still kiss him with some fairy-tale hope that it will bring him back, that your kiss will somehow save him, like he's Snow White and you're Prince Charming. But it doesn't.

It doesnt.

You pull away to look at Getou, whose eyes are glazed over but not closed. You sob as you reach up to close his eyes, only to let your head fall against his chest. He’s so cold. Too cold. That's why you have to stay there on top of him to keep him warm. You'll stay there all night if you have to. But you don't even get the chance to stay there for longer than a few minutes when someone suddenly pulls you off of him, and you look over your shoulder to see Gojo, who's crying as well.

“He’s gone, Y/N.”

"I know," you sniffle, “I know.”

Gojo helps you up to your feet, his hand on your waist to keep you steady as he leads you away from Getou’s body. The further you get from it, the harder you cry.

But it's okay. It’ll be okay because, even though you lost Getou in this universe, you’ll eventually be able to come to peace with it knowing that in a hundred, a thousand, and even a million other universes, you and Getou are living happily ever after.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hi hi! I have a req- can you maybe please write a Megumi x reader where they get lost in a haunted house and the reader is too scared to move and Megumi helps her (as a stranger) and then it goes more from that ?

I fell in love with this immediately and needed to write that wonderful request of yours! Thank you so much darling, I'm crossing my fingers you like what I came up with 😭

Getting lost at a haunted house only to be saved by Megumi

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: After your friends dragged you into a tunnel of terror at an amusement park despite your irrational fear of creepy stuff, you find yourself lost in your own panic. Until a sudden blue-eyed boy appears and helps you out...

Warnings: your friends are shitty, Megumi is a sweetheart, reader is obviously scared of creepy stuff lol

„This is probably the worst thing you ever made me do”, Megumi mutters, annoyed by the sheer sight in front of him.

When Gojo-sensei told them about a day off, he certainly didn’t see himself going to an amusement park with Itadori and Kugisaki. He should have stayed back, he could have read the new book he just bought, enjoying the silence of empty Jujutsu High while the others were out doing whatever they want. But instead, he finds himself surrounded by crying children with their hands covered in sweets, people bumping into him with every step he takes.

What on earth is he doing here?

“You’re such a pain in the ass, Fushiguro. How about going out and having some fun instead of making it your mission to look as if somebody killed your puppy? Geez.”

“Look, a haunted house!”, Yuji cries out, his eyes glossy from sheer excitement.

“Oh, I wanna go in!”

“I don’t wanna go in”, you protest while your friends literally drag you after themselves.

To be honest, the thought of going into a haunted house alone makes you want to leave immediately. If there’s one thing you hate, it’s creepy stuff. No matter if it’s as innocent as Halloween or things like horror films based on a true story. There is nothing worse than getting jump scared, feeling as if your heart will stop beating any minute, cold sweat running down your neck. No, there is absolutely no way in hell you will step one foot into this cursed place, you’ll just wait here and get some ice cream, you’ll-

“I really don’t wanna do this”, you whine into pitch-black darkness, heavy creepy music making you feel sick in an instant.

Your heartbeat hammers against your already aching chest, palm getting so sweaty that you are unable to hold onto the hand of your friend any longer.

“Hey, where are you? I-I think I lost you guys!”

No response, no sign of life. Just you, the darkness around you and your own blood rushing through your ears.

Fuck, you can’t do this alone. Where is the emergency exit when you need it? Is there somebody else around you?

“H-hello?”

No response, no sign of life.

Panic starts to rise in your chest, disturbing screams, violent laughter and creepy music drowning your head in nothing but thick fear. You need to get out of here as fast as possible.

Your wobbly feet carry you down the dark hallway. But instead of being able to simply sprint through the tunnel of horror, you are greeted by a never-ending hallway that is that is filled with macabre clowns decorating each and every centimetre around you. There aren’t many things that scare you more than strange dolls that look like Annabell herself, but clowns…You hated them since you were a child, no matter how friendly they looked.

And these ones definitely don’t.

“Are you lost, little one?”

That voice is close, too close for your liking. You rest your eyes for a second, pretend that this deep voice that shook you to your core isn’t really there. No, this must be part of the music, a stupid joke-

“I am still here.”

Something touches your arm. Out of instinct, you widen your glossy eyes, staring straight into the maniac grin of a clown.

A real clown.

Not just a doll.

Your body react on its own, a violent shriek escaping your lips.

Run.

As fast as you can, past the clown decorating the wall, straight into nothing but darkness while this little voice inside your head can’t stop laughing about your pathetic self. How old are you? 10?

It doesn’t matter. Your frightened eyes are darted fowards, adrenaline pumping through your veins while all you can think about is stepping through that door, getting out of this living nightmare as soon as possible. You just need to push yourself a little harder, get through this dark hallway right in front of you and it will be over, you are almost there-

You see stars. Before you are even process what happens, you bump into something hard and fall straight onto the floor with your head spinning in confusion. Was is a wall, a door? No, the dim light shows you the outline of a person. Your guts turn in an instant, the horrifying face of that clown you saw seconds ago still haunting your mind. Please, not another one of these actors.

It stretches out his hand, ready to grab you.

“NO!”, you scream on top of your lungs, crawling backwards in a desperate attempt to escape those fingertips.

Megumi can’t help but stare at your puny figure in sheer disbelief. Why the hell are you so scared? And why are you here on your own? Your thick and heavy breaths hang in the air between you both, distracting him from his mission to find a way out of here after Itadori and Kugisaki ran away like some 4-year old kids.

“Calm down, I’m just trying to find my way out of here”, he calmly announces.

You blink against the darkness around you, too stunned to say a single word. That is definitely a boy with a voice that could calm down entire oceans, making your heartbeat tame down in an instant.

“Let me help you up, okay? Give me your hand.”

There it is, his big hand stretched out in front of you. Like in trance you take it, palms still covered in cold sweat when he lifts you off the ground with ease. In the dim light you aren’t able to see anything but the outline of his features, his tall and actually quite muscular frame.

“We’ll get out of here together, just don’t let go of my-“

In the matter of seconds, your whole body clings onto his arm for what feels like dear life, nails digging into his firm biceps without mercy. He can’t leave you alone here like your friends did, there is absolutely no way in hell you’ll let go of this boy.

Much to Megumi’s fortune, the room is so dark that you can’t tell the deep blush creeping up his face. You’re a girl with a voice sounding so angelic that it caught him off guard, with your breast pressed against his arm-

Oh god.

“Let’s go”, he mumbles.

He forces himself to stare in front of him, to not risk a look at you while tumbling down the dark hallway with you by his side. But the second he opens the next door filled with red lights, his gaze wanders to his left side, gets greeted by your doe eyes immediately.

Time stands still, Megumi’s heart pounding as hard as yours when all he does is staring at your way too gorgeous but frightened features. You have to be around his age, even though it’s hard to tell in that strange light. But oh your face definitely matches your angelic voice.

“Thank you for not leaving me alone”, you mumble against his arm, eyes directed towards the next door ahead of you.

“There’s no need to thank me. How did you end up in here anyway if you are this scared?”

“My friends forced me and left me after the first door on my own.”

Megumi huffs in response. Well, that definitely sounds way too familiar. When he sees these two idiots again…

“But aren’t they aware of the fact that you’re scared?”

“Everyone is. But I guess they just thought it would be funny…”

“It’s not”, Megumi replies in an instant.

“You don’t deserve this. It might not make sense to them, but you are stressed. And no friend should want to see you like this for their own amusement.”

You swallow hard, still holding onto his arm tightly. Of course you know that he’s right, that your “friends” aren’t suppose to treat you this way. But you’d never say it out loud, would never confront them.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

His voice catches your attention just before you start to panic over another set of creepy dolls laughing in the corner, his arm moving you closer to him.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

When you gaze up at him again, his world stops spinning for a minute. You really seem to trust him, your hands still intertwined with his arm, your body firmly pressed against his side. You look so lovely, seem like such a nice person. It becomes more and more personal to get you out of here.

“I’m sure we are close to the exit. Focus on me, okay?”

“My name is (y/n)”, you suddenly blurt out.

“I’m Megumi Fushiguro. Nice to meet you (y/n).”

Out of his mouth, your name sounds so relaxing, so melodic. His calm voice really suits the ocean of his dark blue eyes that never break contact with yours even though he walks down the hallway with you by his side.

“I think this is the last door.”

With a swift motion, he opens it. Slowly but surely his features get light up by lantern light, the cries and screams from the amusement park ringing in your ears again. You take a look around you.

He really did it.

You made your way out of the tunnel of horror.

“Thank you so much for helping me out”, you mutter, pulling him into a tight hug before you are able to stop yourself.

What would have happened if he didn’t find you, if he didn’t keep a cool head and lead you through the right doors? You rest your head against his broad chest, heartbeat calming down completely. How lucky you are to have met him.

“Oh – uh…No problem at all”, he mutters.

Megumi has to tell himself over and over to keep a straight face, to not allow himself to turn redder than the devil himself. But you hold onto him so tightly, so thankful for nothing but the fact that he guided you out of a haunted house.

“Who’s that girl, Fushiguro?”

You let go of him immediately, eyes darting towards a girl with short brown hair coming your way while dragging a pink-haired boy behind her like a bag of trash.

“After you left me alone in there, I met (y/n) and she helped me finding a way out.”

“Nice to meet you (y/n)!”, the other boy greets you instantly, a kind grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have helped him, Fushiguro fits just right in a tunnel of horror”, the girl comments dryly.

“There you are! We thought the clowns already ate you up!”

Oh no, not now, not in front of him and his friends. You want to sprint away, to hide yourself from your “friends”. But instead, all you can do is stare blankly why both of them approach you with a toxic smile.

“Is this what you consider funny? Dragging (y/n) in there and leaving her alone even though you know she’s scared?”

Megumi’s body tenses up immediately as he positions himself between you and the other girls. They really have some nerves, approaching you like this after what they did. There is no way he’ll let them get away with that.

“Huh? Who the hell are you and why would you care?”

“Because I was scared as well and (y/n) helped me to find a way out.”

He glimpses at you for the split of a second. It’s more than crystal clear that he’s lying. You need to stand up for him, defend him, tell them the truth.

“Oh, you’re braver than I thought (y/n)”, one of them mutters.

“Yeah…Well…We see each other tomorrow, okay? Bye?”

And with that, they disappear into the evening, their awkward walk leaving you speechless for a second.

“Promise me you’ll never let them treat you like this again”, he finally speaks up again.

“I…I promise….”

“Can you just give her your number so that we’re able to grab something to eat? I’m starving”, the girl next to him complains.

“Yeah, I’m super hungry as well!”

“Can’t you just shut up for a minute?”, Megumi hisses under his breath.

“But…would you mind giving me your number?”

-Bonus-

"Megumi-chan!"

His steps quicken in an instant, carrying down the hallway of Jujutsu High at high tempo. If there's one thing he's not in the mood for right now, it's definetely Gojo-sensei. Itadori and Kugisaki probably told him ever little thing about you.

"There's no running for me. Tell me, who's the girl you've been with today?"

He can't help but roll his eyes, the wide grin on his teacher's face simply driving him insane.

"I just met her today", he mumbles in response.

"Don't forget to use protection, I don't wanna be a grand-"

"CAN YOU JUST SHUT UP"

 Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp@wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

Gorgeous dividers by @saradika-graphics

[oomisluvr]

practice

SYNOPSIS: it's the night before your wedding and — wait, should we just skip to the part where we kiss?

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption, SUPER suggestive but nothing actually happens, sakusa is so in love but so is the reader so it all works out, warning: happy endings, atsumu is pissed lmao, 800 words!

“Should we practice?”

“Practice what?”

“Getting married.” 

Egyptian cotton sheets, layers upon layers of mattress toppers, and memory-foam pillows that feel like literal clouds – KIYOOMI has the softest bed of anyone you’ve ever known. It engulfs you like quicksand, with no hope of escaping. You don’t want to.

“Okay,” you yawn, eyes still closed with your feet kicked up on the wall. “As long as I don’t have to get up.”

“You don’t have to.” He copies your yawn, knocking his foot against yours, “Because I sure as hell don’t want to either.”

That pulls a laugh from you, and Kiyoomi stretches his arm for what feels like miles to find your body buried somewhere in the comforter. He thwacks you in the face instead. You don’t even feel it.

“Ow.”

“Sorry, I was looking for your hand.” He finds it, then slots his fingers in the spaces between yours, squeezing lightly, “Found it.”

“You are so stupid.”

“Yeah,” He agrees easily, “But you’re the one marrying me. Which makes you stupid by association.”

You push your foot harder against his to establish dominance. Kiyoomi lets you, and his legs drag loudly down the wall before landing softly in the comforter. It makes a funny, airly little sound that makes you giggle. Your giggle makes Kiyoomi chuckle, until you’re laughing at the fact that he’s laughing, which in turn makes him laugh harder. He squeezes your hand, face flushed a strawberry red.

“Should we skip to the part when we kiss?” He whispers, and it sounds so far away, the baritones of his voice escaping you.

“Nah,” Somehow you find the energy to clamor onto him, collapsing your weight onto his lower half with an unattractive grunt. Something jumps to life beneath you, and you angle your hips in a way that makes Kiyoomi start to sweat. “I think we should skip to the consummation-of-marriage part. Right now.”

“Like, right now, right now?” Kiyoomi’s eyes are closed too, eyelids pressed shut like he’s dreaming. The faint smile on his face tells you that he is. 

“Yes, like, right now, right now, right now.” You grin, making quick work of undoing the buttons of his now-wrinkled shirt. 

“Okay.” He smiles harder, eyes still closed. Your fingers are moving so fast, “That tickles.”

It takes all of your focus to slip the ivory buttons through the narrow silk slits. You fumble with the same button repeatedly, your head so disconnected from your body. You don’t know how much time has passed since you first crawled into his lap, nor can you even recall how you ended up in bed with him. 

You can feel your fingers moving, but you aren’t sure how to control the movement. You give up with a huff, “This isn’t working.”

“I can always keep my shirt on,” Kiyoomi hums, lifting his hands to fidget with the buttons of your pants. You’re straddling him in the way that makes his heart hammer in his chest, looking up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, “This, however, must be done away with.”

This would have been romantic if he could actually get your pants off. Unfortunately for both of you, Kiyoomi struggles equally as hard, the buttons of your dress pants can’t seem to stay in his grip. With a sigh, his hands drop. It takes everything in you to not laugh out loud. 

He’s quiet when he asks, “Does the bed feel like it's rocking for you, too?”

“Yeah,” you decide, resting your hands on his covered stomach, where you didn’t quite make it far enough with the buttons, “I’m very drunk.”

“I’m very drunk, too.”

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” You reach to poke his cheek. He catches your hand before you can make it, pulling it to his lips to kiss your palm softly.

“I’m so drunk I don’t even care.”

“This was a terrible dress rehearsal.” You pull away your hand in favor of touching his hair. It was meant to annoy him, as Kiyoomi hates people messing with his curls, but he preens at the attention all the same, “It’s the night before our wedding and we didn’t even fuck.”

With one swift motion, Kiyoomi opens up his arms to pull you into his chest, then rolls over to trap you underneath him. He lands an obnoxious wet kiss on your cheek, smiling softly to himself at the sound of your laughing, “We’ll make up for it tomorrow night.”

You huff and push his face away. He nibbles at your fingers drunkenly. “Whatever.”

“Thanks for marrying me, by the way.”

“Whatever.”

Miya A [11:47]: WHERE ARE YOU Miya A [11:47]: WE CAN'T HAVE A BACHELOR PARTY WITH NO BACHELOR Miya A [00:13]: AND NOW NOBODY CAN FIND Y/N Miya A [00:20]: you fucking freaks i should have known you two would run away together Miya A [00:30]: THIS IS THE LAST TIME I DO ANYTHING NICE FOR YOU Miya A [00:30]: 🖕🖕🖕

hiiii so im not dead! just rly busy w classes/work/internships!

but i have a couple short stories like this that im gonna put out every week for fluff-tober! so uhhhh maybe i'll make a masterlist for that idk

love as always, niko

[xueyidweams]

rambling once again (aventurine x cat-person gn!reader) (this kind of pattern is what I’m talking about.) (read more bc this became quite long, sorry!!!)

Aventurine in his life of working for the IPC has come across a lot of stealers or kids trying to find their food for the day. he usually gives them some money and send them on their way. however, he really didn’t expect for someone to try and rob him in Penacony, in the dreamscape no less. Somehow he didn’t sense the man hurling himself towards him and grunted in surprise as he was pushed down, before he could even open his eyes the man was off of him and running away with claw marks all over him.

dumbfounded, he gets up and looks around, only to find two cat eyes staring at him… except they weren’t a cat… well.. half cat half person? He thought the species went extinct long ago. though, you were living proof of the opposite. you helped him sit up, he felt your claws brush against his knuckles and you felt the coolness of his rings on your paw-hand. observing his every move with utmost attention, your feline eyes following his every mimic and body movement.

“well thank you kind stranger—“ you accidentally cut him off as you smell him closely and realize who he is, he smells just like those bastards from the IPC! way too rich to be true smelling! your ears curl backwards and you pull yourself away hastily as you run away from him. He blinks as he sees you run, so fast… is this why the IPC hunts you all down like you’re all one of a kind? He yells after you, “Hey wait! just listen to me, please!“ you look back at him, your teeth snared and your pupils as slanted as they can be, “leave me alone IPC scum!”

you turn a few corners and your eyes widen in horror to see a dead end… what the hell, you know this place like the back of your hand! did they build this just now or have you been hanging in the unfinished part for way too long? the hairs on your tail stand up and your ears curl back as you hear his footsteps, taking a step back your back meets the wall with an oomph.

“Hey look— don’t be so hostile, we don’t have to be enemies. you can trust me.” yeah right. with those eyes? they’re unnervingly pretty and somehow frightening. your gut is telling you to run but your heart is hammering way too fast in your chest and the sound is drowning out his voice and you feel like everything you’ve had to endure to not fall into IPC’s slimy hands again has all been for nothing and—

you feel a hand on your arm, you look up and meet his eyes. then you feel the warm tears staining your cheeks, your tail hugs your leg as your ears droop, “look. please don’t give me up to them, i’ll literally do anything. do you want any dirty work done? i can do it! please just leave me alone, i don’t want to go back i can’t go back!” you see his eyes… soften somehow. to him, you’re a stark reminder of who he was, maybe still is. the way you fight so hard to protect the most precious thing to you, your freedom reminds him so much of the unsavory memories that he doesn’t notice he is squeezing your arm a bit hard and some of the fur is stuck on his rings. you flinch and grimace and he untangles your fur from his rings, he pulls his hands off of you.

he coughs in his hand and looks at you once more, voice softer yet firm. “im not going to hurt you or give you up. that’s not my job anyways. i just wanted to thank you, for helping even though it could put me in serious hot water. cats hate water right?” you half rolls your eyes at his teasing remark, “yeah yeah pretty boy, cough up some cash if you want to thank me. thanks for not turning me in but empty sentiments won’t feed me when i have to wake up from this dream.”

he smiles and takes off the ring from his index finger, he looks at you, “can i hold your hand?” you feel a slight warmness spreading through your face and squint your eyes, “fine but don’t try anything funny!” he chuckles and takes your hand in his gently, “wouldn’t dream of it.” he slips the ring on your ring finger, winking at you. “you can sell this for at least five hundred thousand credits, plenty to eat hm?” you look at your finger, the ring and at him as your heart does summersaults in your ribcage. you’ve never… even as a tease you’ve never been flirted with this is—

he takes advantage of your stupor and strokes your shoulder, squeezes slightly and gives you a smile. “you haven’t seen me and i haven’t seen you, yes?” you nod, speechless but thankful. he turns around and you finally get your voice back, “wait!” he looks back, his eyes watching you with interest. he raises his eyebrows, “thank you. i dont know what else to say but i’ll never forget this. and i wasnt’… joking when i said i could do your dirty work. so if you need something and i can get it done, i’ll do it free of charge.” you manage to tumble out as your voice trembles a bit, still shocked. his smile returns, “I’ll think about it, maybe fate will make us cross paths again huh?” he gives a little wave and starts walking, “oh also, do take care of your fur, it’s rather soft.”

you look dumbfounded, your face morphing from surprised to angry to flustered but he has already left. you look at your ring finger again and play with the ring, maybe the aeons have pitied you now?

‘he’s really pretty…’

you think to yourself as you pocket the ring and think of all the fish, meat and bread you’re gonna eat. and maybe you’ll try that soul glad thing.

[whump-in-the-closet]

Interrogation

CW: manhandling, creepy whumper, psychological whump, fucked up superhero agency, implied torture, interrogation gone wrong, aftermath of raid

Masterlist

There’s no clear line between waking and not—just a creeping awareness of how wrong everything feels. The tilt of Teddy’s head is off, gravity pulling in strange directions, his body a disjointed puzzle he can’t quite piece together. 

As he regains consciousness, it hits him– all coming back, all at once– and his stomach drops. He shifts, instinctively, but cold restraints bite into his wrists, holding him fast. 

There’s dried blood matted into his hair. His right eye won’t open all the way. Something is wrong. His body, his mind—everything’s breaking apart. 

Then– 

Rufus. 

Bile rises in Teddy’s throat, worry twisting his stomach into knots of red horror. He had closed the teenager into the hiding spot before Savior had gotten in, but did he stay hidden? Was he still safe?  

The door swings open, as if on cue, and a man in a blue-striped shirt steps in, holding a steaming cup of coffee. The smoke peels upwards, vanishing into the white light. 

Teddy swallows. Hard. “Hello.” His voice cracks, his anxiety carrying his voice up an octave. 

The man smiles, lifting his cup in greeting. He takes a sip, then sets it down with a careful, deliberate motion. There’s something very controlled about everything he does. “Good morning.” 

Teddy’s voice doesn’t quite work the way he’d like it to. “It’s morning? How long–” How long have I been here? 

His panic is tangible, physical, very much there in the room between him and the officer, with only the desk between them. 

The man’s blue eyes are deep set and they widen dramatically as he laughs. The man doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s eleven a.m.” 

“Oh.” Fuck. Then. “Where’s– can I ask, sorry, where’s Elias?”

The man folds his hands around his mug. His smile reveals crooked teeth framed by a scratchy, half-grown beard but it seems genuine. “You’re polite, Mr. Wade. I appreciate that.” 

Teddy freezes. “How do you, wait–” he stammers, words coming out in uneven bursts. “How do you know my name?”

The man continues as if there’s been no interruption, but his smile tightens. “I’d like to ask you a question myself.” He lets the words hang in the air for a split second, then says, “Are you harboring a fugitive?” 

Teddy answers on instinct. “No, sir.” Lies on instinct. But his heart jumps into his throat and stays there. 

But he has to bite back a smile. Because that question means Rufus is safe.

Free.

Teddy shifts in his Christmas pajamas, ducking his head to hide the curl of his lips that he can't smooth out. Sure, his shoulders ache, and his blood is crusted in his hair, and the man across the table stares at him with an unreadable intensity.

But the taste of triumph is behind his teeth and he can feel the tension between his shoulders lessen in relief.

"No, sir," Teddy repeats, quieter.

The blue-eyed man leans forward with a quiet sigh. He's blunt, like a hammer, an open palm, a kick to the knees. "Don't lie to me, Mr. Wade. That would make my job rather difficult because I like you."

Teddy blinks rapidly, focusing on the dents on the table, on the dust motes floating through the light, on the dull thudding coming from his chest--anything other than those calculating eyes. "I'm not--" he breaks off, faltering, "I-- I have rights. Can I make my call?"

The man laughs. It's soft. "Do I look like the police to you, Theodore?"

Teddy's gaze flicks up. Shit. "You're..."

"Savior. Or at least, I work for them. No hero stuff though. Just a guy doing his job. So, where's the kid, kiddo?"

Alarm bells go off in Teddy's head. He plays dumb. "Who?" Then, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

"Oh, Theodore," his voice is conversational like they're discussing the weather. "Here's the thing. I don't believe you. And my friends? They don't believe you either."

Teddy scrambles for anything to say, and the sarcasm slips out before he can stop it. "Sorry, here's the thing, I go by Teddy. Theodore was my dad--"

The slap comes out of nowhere, knocking Teddy's head to the side. The taste of iron fills his mouth and Teddy, briefly, sees an explosion of stars.

He coughs, spitting blood onto the floor. It splatters in dark droplets against the stark white tiles. "You--" Teddy's voice cracks, "You can't do that!"

"Yeah, I kinda can." The man's kind demeanor becomes much more jarring as he slaps Teddy again.

Crack.

Teddy blinks hard, trying to clear the dizziness, and shifts his jaw to test for damage. The copper taste lingers, bitter and metallic.

"I'm not lying!" Teddy manages. "I'm not! I don't have a fugitive, this is ridiculous--"

The man crouches next to him, his face uncomfortably close. He has a tattoo peeping out of his shirt collar. "Do you think I'm stupid, Theodore?"

Teddy squeezes his eyes shut. He shakes his head slowly, his face throbbing with the movement.

He doesn't know what to do.

Their plans never went this far.

He has no idea.

"Don't make me ask my friends for help," the man says. He smells of too much cologne and it makes Teddy's eyes sting. "They won't be as gentle as I've been."

Teddy trembles.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs, his hand clamping down on Teddy's shoulder in a mockery of comfort, ignoring how Teddy flinches, breath faltering. “You're not built for this, are you?"

What Teddy wants to say is, I'm a fucking pianist, no. Instead, he says, in a whisper. "Sorry, but I don't know about any runaway."

The man's grip instantly tightens, pinching down.

And Teddy arches his back in pain, "Ah--"

"I never said anything about a runaway, Theodore," he whispers.

Teddy’s breath catches. “Runaway, fugitive—same thing!”

"So we've established you're a liar." The man's hand shifts to the back of Teddy's neck. “Good.”

Teddy squirms but says nothing, the silence broken only by the shallow rasp of his breathing.

"I'm going to get my friend." He pats the back of Teddy's neck and turns to leave.

As he picks up his coffee mug, he flashes Teddy one last smile. Cold. Deliberate. "And welcome to Savior, by the way."

Teddy's eyes widen. "What?"

"Yeah, you think you're leaving now? You lost that privilege when you started lying to me."

"No-- fuck, man, let me go!"

"See you around, kiddo."

Taglist: @rainydaywhump @whump-in-the-night @chaotic-orphan @violets-whumperflies @whump-till-ya-jump

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Gaps 3

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Mentally Ill/Forgetful Reader

Warning: This is a yandere work, and as such, contains themes of obsession and unhealthy relationships. This particular snippet from Gaps will be an escalation, since this is a series, so trigger warning for kidnapping, non-consensual drugging, obsessive behaviors and manipulation.

There was a half full bottle of psychiatric meds in the glove box of your car. You have absolutely no clue when this got there, buried as it was under your insurance information, registration, and car owners manual, but it was there.

You turn the bottle over in your hands, reading the small label. Prazosin. You were glad to have some extra, in case Bruce hadn’t been able to get your refill this month. He had been good about it, the past couple of months while you waited for your appointment at the DMV, but it was always good to have spares, just in case. And something in your stomach urged you not to rely on the billionaire too much.

You pocket the bottle of pills. Sure, your script had been changed from prazosin to nitrazepam, by Dr. Leslie Thompkins since she was the only person that would treat you without an ID, but you didn’t like how the nitrazepam left you sluggish the next morning. You also didn’t like the thought of just how vulnerable you would be, in such a deep sleep.

Your cell phone rings. You pick up on the first ring, humming.

“(Y/N).” It was Damian. A bit of a surprise, since he didn’t really seek you out, but not an entirely unwelcome one. “You used to have a cat, correct?”

You snort. Of course one of the few times Damian calls you, it was about an animal. You didn’t expect anything less.

“Yeah. I had a Maine Coon kitten for a while before I moved. She was the sweetest little thing too, would always climb onto my shoulders whenever I got home from work.”

“What happened to her?”

“When I moved, I had to give her to my roommate. I visit her whenever I go to Bludhaven.” You explain, beginning your nightly routine. You brush the knots out of your hair, root around for your pajamas, drop two tablets in your hand.

“I see. I’m sorry you had to leave her behind.”

You smile, glancing at the time. The two tablets go down easy, and you double and triple check your locks. In Gotham, it didn’t hurt to be vigilant.

“It’s not a problem. I do have work tomorrow, so I’m gonna turn in, okay?”

“Of course. Get some rest, (Y/N).” He says it like it’s practically a demand, and you laugh when the line goes dead.

You drift off to sleep, eventually, your limbs heavy and numb.

——————

Your woken up by the sound of your bedroom door creaking open. Your heart stops, before thundering in your chest, slamming fast against your ribs.

Your mind races, and you force yourself to breath slow and deep, feigning sleep. The average thief wouldn’t bother to kill a sleeping person, but who knew what would happen if they thought there were witnesses. Carefully, you shift, making sure the movement looked to be the shifting of a sleeping body.

There’s a sound of crackling above you, and you don’t know what that means before the intruder speaks.

“You sure you got the dosage right? They’re moving around a lot for someone who’s sedated.” A modulated voice, indistinguishable thanks to the static. Your stomach drops, and it takes everything you have not to stiffen in terror. No average thief would have a fucking voice modulator. And what did they mean, the dosage? What the fuck did they mean?

Your fingers close around the handle of the small folding knife you kept under your pillow.

“It’s not full sedation. They’ll sleep deeply enough that we can move freely, but too high of a dosage would cause issues.” A low, gravelly voice and you feel your breath hitch. Both voices go quiet.

You hear a soft rattle as a pill bottle is picked up. Your heart hammers in your throat. You can’t remember which bottle of meds was by your bedside.

“Didn’t you get them put on nitrazepam?”

“Yes.”

“Old man, this isn’t nitrazepam. It’s an old script of prazosin.”

Silence. Deafening silence. Your eyes snap open.

You don’t even give yourself time to process the fact that there were two of Gotham’s vigilantes in your room. You don’t give yourself time to panic, or feel betrayed, because if you do, you won’t stop. You’ll be frozen and defenseless and unable to do anything.

You lunge up, throwing the blankets off yourself, and you try to twist away when the goddamn Red Hood lunges to catch you, only for his arm to wrap around your waist, yanking you back. The small fold out knife clatters to the ground, and a hand wraps around your wrist.

“Why don’t we all just cool off, yeah? No more stabbing attempts.” He sounds almost amused, but there’s an edge of danger in his voice that makes you shudder. He releases you, and you stagger away from him.

Batman hovers in the corner of the room, and even though he is the furthest from you, he feels so much closer.

“You got my script changed. Why?” Your voice is trembling, and you grimace. You don’t like the way you sound far too vulnerable.

“The old man is paranoid as hell, that’s why.” Hood grumbles, crossing his arms. He leans back, giving you space, and even though you know you aren’t any safer, you appreciate it.

“Hood. Now is not the time.” Batman growls, and Hood snorts.

“When would be the time old man? We would have avoided all of this if we had just gone with my plan.” Hood points out. You have no idea what he means.

“They weren’t ready.” Batman snaps, and you don’t know what that means. “This isn’t the place for this discussion, Hood.”

He turns to you, and for a moment, hesitates. The moment passes, and he lifts his hands, tugging back his cowl.

You stare. Staring back at you with intense blue eyes is Bruce Wayne.

So many things click in your mind. The inexplicable cancelling of your appointments. The paranoia. The way you had been struggling to work past the constant fear you were being watched. The way your things went missing when you needed them.

“(Y/N), I know you’re confused right now. Just let me explain.” Bruce says gently, and you shake your head, backing up.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say right now. You.. how long have you been breaking into my apartment? How long have you been using my meds to do it? And why?!”

“(Y/N), you barely manage to function on a day to day basis. I was just insuring your safety.”

“My safety?! Arguably I would be even more vulnerable SEDATED in an apartment in Gotham? Why do you think I check my locks so often? Why I have lists, of every possible thing I could need? I KNOW how to take care of myself, but clearly I made some sort of mistake when met all of you!” You shriek, and there are hot, ugly tears streaming down your face.

You didn’t need this, you didn’t need him, and you certainly did not need him pulling the strings on your life.

“Alright, you clearly can’t handle this old man.” Hood turns to you, arms crossed. “Listen, I get it. Batman’s a controlling, manipulative bastard. But we aren’t having this discussion here.”

You yell when his hand closes around your arm, and raise your hand to slap him away. He tugs you forward, twisting your arm behind your back and holding it there, and you yell.

A sharp pain in your neck, and your vision blurs.

You feel your knees buckle, feel yourself start to sag.

Gloved hands hold you up, and your head spins. Armored arms scoop you up, and you push at the thick Kevlar.

The last thing you see before unconsciousness takes you is white lenses staring down.

[ivyprayedtoday]

Chapter Fifteen: "Friends" (Sabo x Reader)

Chapter Fifteen: "Friends" Warnings: None Chapter Fourteen: I'm Here

Koala knocked on [Name]’s door, her heart hammering slightly. She felt guilty for not saying anything during the incident. Not to mention her lack of care and tact for [Name]’s feelings during the bath. She felt like an absolute jerk for the way she treated [Name].

The door clicked, opening to reveal [Name]. “Koala, what’s up?” 

Koala hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the floor before meeting [Name]'s eyes. She took a deep breath, her voice soft but sincere. “Hey, I just… wanted to apologize… for earlier and everything else. I know I… didn’t put much thought into your feelings when I was telling you to talk to Sabo. I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

[Name] raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Koala’s sudden vulnerability. “What do you mean? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Koala's fingers tugged at the hem of her sleeve. “I did. I was so focused on trying to help Sabo that I didn’t realize I should have also been there for you. You’re also my friend, too. I should've seen it, but I was too caught up in my own head. And also… for not jumping in when everyone was ganging up on you, yesterday.”

[Name] hadn’t expected this conversation. Her heart softened at the sight of Koala's regret, but her own guilt lingered, making her hesitant to say too much. Finally, she shrugged lightly, trying to downplay the weight of the moment.

“Oh Koala.” She pulled Koala into a hug, resting her head on her shoulder. “You don’t have to apologize for that. Everything happened all at once.” She let out a small, nervous laugh. “It was a lot for everyone.”

Koala stiffened for a moment, surprised by the sudden embrace. But as [Name] rested her head on her shoulder, Koala's body relaxed, and she allowed herself to melt into the hug. The warmth and softness of [Name]’s presence was a comfort that she hadn’t realized she needed so badly.

“I just... I felt like I was so focused on Sabo and I wasn’t really seeing you,” Koala murmured, her voice small. “It wasn’t right. You were carrying so much, and I didn’t do enough to support you.” She pulled back slightly to look at [Name], her expression apologetic. “I should have seen that.”

[Name] pulled away from the hug, offering her a small, understanding smile. “I’m a grown woman, Koala. I don’t need to babysit. Besides, you can’t blame yourself for not knowing when I didn’t tell you.” [Name] patted Koala’s head. “But thanks. This means a lot. Plus, I’m feeling a lot better.”

Koala's shoulders relaxed at [Name]'s words, but she still couldn't completely shake the feeling that she had let her down. She nodded, her gaze soft but still tinged with concern. 

[Name] smiled gently, giving Koala a reassuring look. “I can see the gears still turning. Come on, let’s go hangout. Maybe look for Hack and Sabo, too. No point in moping about it all. Especially when I have such amazing friends here to support me.”

Before Koala could argue, [Name] grabbed her wrist and started pulling her down the hall. [Name] was clearly in too good of a mood right now to linger on anything gloomy. Her steps were light and almost playful as she tugged Koala along.

“Wait, [Name]!” Koala protested halfheartedly, a smile sneaking onto her face despite herself. “Slow down! I’m not as fast as you!”

[Name] glanced back with a mischievous grin. “You’ve got long legs. You’ll survive. Come on!”

They didn’t have to search long to find Hack sitting outside near the training grounds, a book in his hand and his large frame perched on a stool far too small for him. He glanced up as the two approached, one brow arching in mild surprise.

“You two look cheerful,” Hack commented, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his tone. “Something happen?”

Before either of them could answer, a familiar voice rang out from farther in the yard.

“[Name]! Koala.” Sabo’s voice carried on the breeze as he jogged toward them. His face was flushed, sweat glistening from what must have been an intense training session. He slowed as he approached, his gaze flickering briefly between [Name] and Koala. “What are you two up to?”

[Name] rolled her eyes dramatically, crossing her arms. “Oh, nothing. Just saving this one from sulking.” She jerked her thumb toward Koala, though her teasing tone carried no bite.

Koala let out a mock gasp, feigning offense. “Me? Sulking? Never!” She placed a hand on her chest in exaggerated shock. 

[Name] interrupted, pulling Koala into a side hug. “We wanted to see what you guys were up to.”

Sabo’s gaze lingered on [Name] for a beat longer than necessary, his lips parting slightly as if to say something before he thought better of it. 

He shook his head, smiling softly. “Not much. Just blowing off steam.”

“Looks like it,” [Name] teased lightly, eyeing the sweat soaking into his collar. “You look like you ran through a storm.”

Sabo chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Something like that.”

Their gazes locked again, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch. There was something about the way they looked at each other, hesitant yet curious, as if searching for the answer to a question. It was awkward in a quiet, pleasant sort of way.

Koala raised a brow, clearly noticing the shift in the atmosphere. She opened her mouth to say something snarky when Hack, of all people, cleared his throat loudly.

“Ahem,” Hack said, his stoic face betraying a faint blush. “Did anyone hear the news about Ivankov?”

[Name] and Sabo snapped their heads toward Hack in unison, momentarily pulled out of their strange, lingering silence.

“What happened to her?” Sabo asked, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt to cool off.

[Name] glanced, just for a second, but long enough to commit the sight to memory. Nothing wrong with looking at the goods, right?

“She was arrested and sent to Impel Down,” Hack stated grimly, his tone low.

“What?!” [Name] nearly shouted, her eyes widening in disbelief. “No way! How did that even happen?”

Hack shrugged, closing his book and resting it on his knee. “No clue, but she sent us a message saying she’ll be staying there for the time being. Didn’t seem like it was urgent and Dragon didn’t look too worried about it.”

[Name] frowned, the initial shock of the news simmering into confusion. “She sent a message? From Impel Down?”

Hack nodded, his expression as calm as ever. “That’s what I heard. You know how she is, always making the impossible look easy.”

Sabo furrowed his brows, his frustration shifting into reluctant amusement. “That does sound like Ivankov. But still… staying there voluntarily? What’s her game?”

[Name] sighed, crossing her arms tightly. Despite Hack’s reassurance, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease. Ivankov was practically like an older sister to her… well, if you ignored the massive age gap. She was too youthful and wild to be considered a mother figure, but her wisdom, confidence, and endless energy made her an irreplaceable role model in [Name]’s life.

“Well, if Dragon isn’t worried, I’m sure it’s fine,” [Name] said, though her tone lacked conviction. She paused, then added with a hint of determination, “I’ll ask him about it later, just in case.”

Koala nudged her lightly, sensing the lingering tension. “I’m sure Ivankov knows what she’s doing. She’s not exactly the type to let herself be backed into a corner. And if she is up to something, it’s probably part of some wild plan only she understands.”

Sabo nodded in agreement, though his expression remained serious. “Yeah. If Ivankov’s making a move, there’s a reason for it. We just need to trust her for now.”

[Name] allowed herself a small smile, their words offering her a sliver of comfort. “You’re probably right. It is Ivankov, after all. She’s unstoppable.”

Hack stood, his towering form casting a shadow over the group as he stretched his arms lazily. “That’s the spirit. You’ll hear more when Dragon decides to share. For now, focus on what’s in front of you. Things will start moving soon enough.”

The three of them exchanged glances, sensing the truth in Hack’s words. Something about the calm before the storm always left an uneasy feeling in the air, and no matter how much reassurance they gave each other, they all knew it wouldn’t last forever.

Sabo broke the silence, offering a small grin to lighten the mood. “Well, if Ivankov’s pulling stunts in Impel Down, I say we make bets on how long it takes her to turn the place upside down.”

Koala laughed softly. “A week at most. She’s probably already made half the guards her fans.”

[Name] smirked, the tension in her shoulders finally easing a little. “I’ll take that bet. Three days, tops.”

Sabo raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh, confident, are we? Alright, I’ll say five days. Ivankov doesn’t like to rush a good show.”

Hack shook his head at the trio, though there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “You’re all impossible.”

As they fell into lighthearted banter, the unease faded. They laughed and teased each other, content to know their friend was all right.

Suddenly, a small explosion echoed from the base, and [Name] was the first to react, bolting to her feet.

“Let me check on Shun,” she called over her shoulder, already halfway gone.

The three were left staring after her retreating silhouette. Koala giggled at [Name]’s sudden exit while Sabo shouted, ‘Be careful!’ after her.

Koala turned back to Sabo with a knowing smirk. “So, how are things with you and [Name]?”

Sabo didn’t pay her much mind at first, still watching where [Name] had run off. “The usual,” he replied casually.

Koala crossed her arms, unimpressed. “The ‘usual,’ huh? Well, you can button up your shirt now.”

Sabo flinched, his cheeks flushing as he scrambled to cover his chest. “I was… hot! I’ve been training all day, you know.”

“Sure,” Koala teased, tilting her head. “Though, it looked like she was checking you out.”

Sabo practically jumped from his spot, grabbing Koala by the shoulders. “She did?! When?”

Koala snickered at his sudden lack of composure. “So much for ‘the usual,’ huh?”

Realizing he got played, Sabo let go of her, taking a step back and clearing his throat. He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Fine… Maybe not the ‘usual.’ But we’re good. Really good.”

Koala’s teasing smile softened. She understood what he meant. The news of [Name]’s background had been a shock to everyone, herself included, but it was clear that sharing that secret had lifted a weight off her shoulders. They were all closer now.

“It’d be even better if the two of you finally got together,” she teased again, though her words carried a hint of sincerity.

Sabo’s smile faltered for a moment, his eyes betraying something deeper before he looked away. “We’re better as friends,” he said quietly. “I won’t lie, I’d love for it to be more but I know better than to push her. What [Name] needs right now is a friend, not a relationship to weigh her down. I’d never want to be a burden to her. If things aren’t meant to be, then… I guess they’re just not meant to be.” He paused, forcing a small smile. “Or at least, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.”

Koala’s shoulders slumped. She hated seeing her friend like this, but she knew better than to push too hard. She’d learned her lesson the last time she pried back at the bath with [Name].

“That’s why you were unbuttoning your shirt?” she muttered with a small eye roll.

Sabo’s hand shot up defensively. “Listen, I didn’t do that on purpose! I was training! And…” His voice trailed off as he turned slightly away, his ears tinged red. “I can’t help it, alright? I want her to look at me more than just a friend. I really do want to be supportive and give her space, but she’s just… too irresistibly… hot.”

Koala stared at him, blinking. Then she snorted. “You’re hopeless.”

“Maybe,” Sabo admitted softly, exhaling as he crossed his arms. “But even if she doesn’t see me that way, I’ll still be here for her. As her friend. That’s what matters most.”

Despite his words, Koala couldn’t miss the small, wishful look in Sabo’s eyes, the one he couldn’t quite bury, no matter how hard he tried.

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 10

Noah

SHE THINKS she’s calling the fucking shots here, and I need to shut that shit down immediately. The longer I allow her to believe she’s in control, the bolder she’ll get, and I can’t have that.

I can’t lose control of this thing between us.

With a growl, I yank her toward me a fraction harder, even though she’s already pressed against me. She yelps a little but doesn’t pull away. I’ve got her now. I’ve got her exactly where I want her.

Dipping my head, I brush my lips lightly against hers. We’re so fucking close, I can feel her heart hammering against my chest. Her breath quickens, and her eyes flutter closed.

It would be so easy to take her now, right here, out in the open. She’s already halfway there, despite her protests. And she’s a fucking goddess— all these luscious curves. I can’t wait to explore them all.

Instead, I pull away. She sways a little when I release her, and her eyes fly open like she’s surprised and a little disappointed. She covers it well though. In half a second, she straightens her spine and lifts her chin in defiance. But I saw it. For a split second, I saw the hunger in her eyes.

I laugh, amused, capturing her chin again. “Don’t worry, baby. When I take you, it won’t be out in the open. It’ll be somewhere private. Somewhere I can make you scream, and no one will come to your rescue.”

Something passes across her face–though whether it’s fear or interest, I don’t know. And in complete honesty, I don’t give a fuck. She’s mine. She’s given herself to me, and I’ll take her any fucking way I want.

Fear is quickly replaced by anger in her eyes. “I hate you.”

Now that amuses me. I’ve always craved a challenge. “I know, Little Rabbit. I’m a bad guy, so I can’t say I blame you.”

I release her chin, but I keep my grip on her wrist, and turn, pulling her toward a set of old wooden stairs that lead down to the beach. It’s dark, so I take each step by memory. Harlow , on the other hand, is slow, taking each step more carefully.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks. I can feel her shaking a little. It’s dark, and the wind has an icy edge to it. The beach can get pretty cold at night, and if I were a gentleman, I’d go back and get the jacket that’s always in my trunk. But I’m not a gentleman, and we have her best friend to find— if only to shut Harlow the fuck up, so I can get back to focusing on my plan. Because that’s what matters here. This fucking side-quest with her friend is just a distraction. A distraction I don’t fucking need.

We don’t have time for this bullshit.

When we reach the bottom step, I drag her across the sand about a quarter of a mile, to a little alcove I know is there. The closer we get, the more apparent there’s life nearby. Lights glow from a partially-formed cave that’s been naturally carved into the cliff by the ocean over God only knows how many millennia. Nowadays, though, the water doesn’t come up this high.

“What is this place?” Harlow whispers.

Laughter drifts on the Talia ze, accompanied by the fast-paced rhythm of club music. A bonfire blazes just outside the cave, and serval people are gathered around it.

I stop and turn toward Harlow . “This is one of the popular night-time hangouts. If she’s not at the sorority party, then she’s probably here.”

Harlow glances behind her, in the direction of the stairs, now completely obscured by darkness. “How would she have found this place?”

Seriously? Is she really this naive, or is this all an act? I can’t really tell. “The same way you did,” I say sharply. “Someone would have brought

her.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can say anything, someone calls out my name.

“Oh, shit! Noah’s here!” It’s some dude I don’t know, which isn’t unusual. Most people know me, but my circle of friends is small and tight. Anyone outside of that circle just gets a cursory glance from me—if I’m feeling fucking generous.

I approach the mouth of the cave, Harlow trailing behind me. About fifty people are milling around, drinking, smoking pot, making out, whatever. They all stop what they’re doing and turn toward Harlow and me.

Cameron, a guy from my English class steps forward, hand on his chest. He’s swaying a little and very obviously drunk. “Welcome, my liege. Can I get you a beer?” He says the last with a fake British accent that pisses me off.

“Cut the bullshit, Cam,” I say dryly. “We’re looking for someone.”

Harlow jumps in eagerly. “Her name is Talia . My height, long brown hair, green eyes. Butterfly tattoo on her back shoulder. Has she been here?”

Cameron narrows his eyes and purses his lips like he’s thinking. The fucking douche. I never liked this guy. “Yeah, maybe. Was she wearing a…” He gestures clumsily to his midsection with a cutting motion. “...midriff thingy?”

I turn to Harlow . “What was she wearing?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since this morning.” Her gaze jumps to Cameron. “Assuming it was her, was she with anyone?”

Cameron squints, like he doesn’t know, but he’s struggling to remember. “She was with a guy, I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

I grab Harlow by the elbow. “See? She’s fine. She’s off with some guy somewhere. Let’s go.”

She tugs her arm, and I release her elbow. “You can go,” she says with venom. “I’m staying. Someone might know who she was with, or where they were headed.”

Fucking-A.

Once this bitch is found, I’m hiring someone to track her 24/7, so this shit doesn’t happen again. For fuck’s sake. I have better things to do than to chase some clueless freshman around town. If it weren’t for Harlow , I wouldn’t be doing it at all.

“Ten minutes,” I bite out, but she’s already working her way through a cluster of people, and into the mouth of the cave. I grab a beer from someone’s outstretched hand, then find an empty spot by the fire.

I’m just chilling there for a few minutes when a chick in short shorts and a bikini top plops down next to me. She’s pretty, I’ll give her that. Short brown hair, pale eyes, and a pair of perky tits. She’s a Deb, but she’s new, so I can’t remember her name. Maddy, maybe? Sophie? I have no fucking clue.

She’s holding a red solo cup, and she leans into me, her flowery perfume clawing at my senses. “Noah Sabastian ,” she says with a sigh. “I didn’t think you came here.”

I take a sip of my cheap beer and push out a breath. “Yup. Not often.”

I don’t expand on that thought, because I don’t need to. I don’t fucking explain myself to anyone—least of all some random Deb.

She reaches over and places her hand on my thigh. Most people would never touch me without permission, but either she’s too drunk to care, or she doesn’t know the rules.

“I’m Sara. I’ve been wanting to say hi to you,” she says with a perfect smile.

“Well, I guess this is your chance,” I say dryly. Lucky me.

“So, um, what brings you to the cave?” she asks.

Gooddamn, this small talk is going to kill me. I fucking hate this shit.

I flick my chin in Harlow ’s direction. “I’m here with my girl. We’re looking for someone.”

Sara’s features fall a little, and the excitement leaves her face. “Ah, your girl. Harlow , right? What’s up with you two, anyway? Everyone is talking about your selection this year.”

I snicker under my breath. “Yeah, I bet they are.”

Duty and tradition. Aren’t those the pillars of the aristocracy? That’s what my dad would say, anyway. Duty above all else, unless it involves him. He’s the biggest hypocrite I know. But as far as these fucking girls are concerned, it’s my duty to choose a consort from within the Burning Crown.

“Some of the Debs aren’t happy about it, actually.”

That’s exactly what Nick said, but hearing it confirmed by a Deb gives it more weight. My shoulders suddenly feel tight, and I roll them

while taking a sip of my beer to cover the motion.

“She’s a passing curiosity,” I say casually. “I’m sure the novelty will wear off soon.”

One of the benefits of being one of the Sacred Sons is that anything I say will be circulated with alarming speed. By tomorrow morning, every Deb on campus will know what I said here tonight, and I might as well use that to my advantage. If the Debs think I’ll lose interest in Harlow soon, it may appease them. For now.

Her eyes light up, right on queue. “Would you consider choosing a new consort mid-year? I don’t think it’s ever been done—”

“I’m sure it’s been done,” I say impatiently. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I do whatever the fuck I want. If I want a new consort, I’ll get one.”

Sara clamps her mouth shut and pulls away awkwardly. She probably doesn’t know what to do with the razer sharp anger that edges my tone. Most people don’t. So she does what most people do, she retreats.

To cover her uneasiness, she takes a sip from her drink, and glances behind her, in Harlow ’s direction. When she turns back toward me, she shrugs. “Looks like Harlow is going to make that decision for you.”

I look over Sara’s shoulder. Harlow is inside the mouth of the cave, but I can see her clearly. She’s talking to Ethan-fucking-Ashford. He’s leaning into her, his hand pressed against the rough wall above her head, and she's hanging on his every word.

I rise to my feet and finish off my beer before tossing the empty can aside. Ash and I have had bad blood for years, and he’s one of those guys that always pushes my fucking buttons.

I guess it’s time to show them both—you don’t fuck with what’s mine.

[kedsandtubesocks]

baseball spring training started & I miss Gojo so here we are lol, this is dedicated to @stellamancer @seiwas & @vigilante-izuku for always supporting my baseball Gojo brainrot, love you babes

01: change-up.

baseball player!gojo x reader

-

The weather is gorgeous.

“A wonderful day for baseball,” the lady checking your bag into the stadium even grinned when she told you that.

You don’t know baseball. Didn’t even know spring training was a thing. Yet with the amount of fans in the smaller stadium, and the cluster of photographers and news reporters lining the media area, you could’ve sworn this is a regular game.

And it’s all because of one man, the same man you met at a coffee shop.

Satoru Gojo - born on December 7 1989.

Thankfully you didn’t have to stare at the wiki page for long because every sports outlet online happily was ready to tell you more about him.

He’s considered a once in a lifetime player. He hit a home run once where the ball busted out of the Tokyo Dome. He broke a pitching record his first season in Japan’s Major leagues. He has one of the highest batting averages a pitcher can have.

As a pitcher you learn he is known for his notorious changeup.

It’s a type of pitch that relies on deception, tricks a player into believing a fast pitch approaches only for the ball to change speed and throw off the batter. You can’t wrap your mind around a ball even being able to do that.

But you couldn’t help but think how it fits Gojo. This seemingly way too tall and annoyingly charming guy turns out to be an absolute mega star of an athlete doesn’t feel real.

Because now here you are at a baseball spring training game not even knowing a single clue about the sport.

Currently waiting for the game to start, you scroll through the ESPN page and accidentally press a video attached to his section. It starts up a recent interview of him at a talk show. The sigh of him in a sleek gorgeous deep navy suit that brings out his eyes has you memorized. Then hearing him talk, hearing him laugh through your phone breaks the spell.

You quickly scramble out of the article, click away all open tabs, even clear your history and wonder if you should maybe just leave.

He did beg you to come see him, but how would he even know if you came…

That’s when the team line ups are called.

In the 00 jersey, batting second and not pitching this game, the announcement of Satoru Gojo’s name makes the crowd erupt in a frenzy shocking you.

A kid behind you, with absolute adoration in his voice, excitedly tells his dad how amazing Gojo is and how this year their team had to make it to the championship because of him.

Your eyes zone in on the man constantly trying to pay for your coffee shop order.

He even paid the poor barista to make a messy baseball sugar cookie with a sad face on it as an apology for you.

Now he struts onto the field drawing all the attention to him, yours included. It’s unfair how handsome Gojo looks in the uniform that highlights his tall frame and broad shoulders. He also wears sleek sunglasses that block his eyes.

Once on the line with the rest of his teammates, Gojo wearing the most charming smile takes off his hat and nods his head ever so slightly to the reception given to him. His face turns to skim the crowd in front of him, smiling and waving at everyone.

That is until he spots you.

You feel caught red handed and your heart hammers inside your chest so rapidly.

Suddenly Gojo slides his sunglasses down and blatantly stares at you. You regret sitting so close in the arena because now his twinkling sky blue eyes refuse to let his gaze leave yours.

Then, with the most amused grin, he winks at you and slides his glasses back on.

You’re horrified, almost squawk, and think about walking to sit on the opposing team’s side. But it’s because of all the nasty butterflies trying to infest your stomach.

Whatever was on your face, whatever reaction you made, suddenly has Gojo laughing.

It’s a bright thing he tries covering up by coughing, but you saw it. Even his teammate standing beside him notices.

Even with gorgeous weather, the wonderful energy of the crowd so eager for the game to start… watching Gojo, finally taking in this new reality in, feels like something dangerous is starting to brew in your chest.

[thedissonantverses]

The Rescue

Or the final chapter of the Weisshaupt Arc. Or my absolute favorite chapter so far.

Today Could Be the Last - Chapter 13 - enc0432 - Dragon Age (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

Solas approached the edge of the cavern between them, tilting his head. “What have you done?”

Rook watched him as she always did. A wolf backed into a corner. Pacing the cage, he would free himself at the first opportunity. It remained to be seen if he’d chew through his own leg to escape the trap, or hers.

“You were wrong about the First Warden, by the way. Talking him down worked.”

He tilted his head. “You’re dying. Or were you aware? You’re taking it remarkably well.”

“Ghilan’nanin flung me into a wall. She wasn’t happy about her archdemon being killed.”

Solas put his hands behind his back. “That is quite the achievement. Be as glib as you like. But you need my help. We’re only able to speak because you’re running out of air. Wherever your trapped, I might be able to help.”

 She snorted. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.”

“When you wake, which you’ll want to do soon, cut your hand. It’ll strengthen our bond. I can help you then. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to meet your end here.”

She stepped forward to tell him what a right asshole she thought he was, and as soon as she opened her mouth-

Rook opened her eyes. It was all she could do to bite her knuckle and keep from crying out. Her leg was crushed beneath the rubble, and if she shifted it felt as if the whole pile would collapse around her. There was pressure building in her foot, like her skin was going to pop. She could feel her bones being ground together. She could hear the slithering of the mass forming over the bones of the fortress, it had crawled over her. It had left her in the dark. Alone. There was nothing she could do if it kept growing. It would grow through her. She’d be just like the people in D’meta’s crossing. She’d be-Her heart began to hammer, her mind racing. Her breath was coming fast, and her lungs were starting to burn.

Davrin. Lucanis. The others. She didn’t even know if they were alive, and now she was probably going to die, slowly and painfully, and they might never know. If only Varric could see her now.

Rook.

She flinched. “Solas?”

I can help you. Cut your hand.  

“Please, take this as intended, but never in a thousand years harellan. We had to invent new words for the type of liar you are.”

Rook snarled, trying to shift her leg again. Pain lanced up her leg, white hot, burning its way through. She almost passed out. Even trying to lift her leg was getting harder. There wasn’t enough air. She couldn’t think. If only she could breathe so she could think.

Rook.

She growled and grabbed for the dagger on her chest, hands clumsy, shaking. Her fingertips were tingling. The cold metal against her skin made her pause.

“I’m going to regret this.” She pressed the blade in. At least the sting of it was a brief distraction from her leg. “Alright Fen’harel, do your worst.”