#I was going to include this in an ask but the ask disappeared from my drafts somehow...

[skzdust]

Catfish

THIS IS SMUT. MINORS DNI.

Hello welcome to my most recent smut!! This is an omegaverse Yungi fic, because I literally cannot get submissive alpha Mingi out of my brain it's SO bad. I love them!! Shoutout to my girlfriend for talking about this with me too hehe

Also huge thanks to @everyonewooeverywhere for beta reading!! The best Yungi beta reader in the world! I appreciate it so much!! <3

Enjoy!!

✧✩✮ Summary: In which Mingi is an alpha who wants to bottom, so he lies on the internet about it. ✮✩✧

✧✩✮ Pairing: submissive alpha Mingi x dominant alpha Yunho ✮✩✧

✧✩✮ Includes: office au, internet meetings and sexting and phone sex, a/b/o/omegaverse, dom/sub, pet play kinda ✮✩✧

✧✩✮ Word count: 5.1k ✮✩✧

✧✩✮ Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife, @tsunderelino, @hyunjinsjeans , @somethingkindazainy , @silverstarburst @atzlordz @breadpuddingboys ✮✩✧

✧✩✮ Network:@mirohs-aurora-society ✮✩✧

✧✩✮ Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!! ✮✩✧

✧✩✮ Masterlist ✮✩✧

---

You have connected with puppydom!

puppydom: hey pretty

puppydom: how are you tonight?

Mingi clicked on puppydom’s profile before typing out a response. Only one picture popped up, a throat with a hand wrapped around it. The caption read “my hand :]”

Mingi’s eyes widened. Jesus Christ, this man had enormous hands, with veins along the back, and fingers he could already imagine around his own neck. 

fix_on: I’m good, looking for someone to entertain me while I fuck myself

puppydom: you wanna be entertained?

fix_on: Yes please

puppydom: tell me what you’re doing

Mingi looked at his nightstand. 

fix_on: About to start with a dildo

puppydom: how big

fix_on: 6 inches

puppydom: go bigger

fix_on: Why should I do that?

puppydom: i’m bigger than 6 inches

“Fuck.” Mingi whispered, stumbling out of bed and finding his biggest toy: eight inches, with a wide knot at the bottom.

puppydom: where’d you go pretty?

fix_on: I was getting something bigger

fix_on: But never fear I’m back now

puppydom: good

Mingi sighed happily. He had a feeling he’d gotten very lucky tonight.

fix_on: Fuckkkk anything else you want me to do?

Mingi had already opened himself up on his fingers, and he absently played with the plug as he watched puppydom’s typing bubble appear and disappear and appear again. 

puppydom: are you all wet for me?

fix_on: I’m so wet for you

It wasn’t entirely a lie. There was enough lube inside of Mingi to count as wet. But he was sure that wasn’t what puppydom had in mind. 

puppydom: good boy!

puppydom: do you like being my good little pet?

Pet play was territory Mingi was more comfortable in. 

fix_on: I love it sir

puppydom: can you be obedient for me 

fix_on: Yes sir

puppydom: good boy. now put that dildo inside you 

With one hand, Mingi eased the plug out, replacing it immediately with the toy in his other. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt it stretching out his hole. His cock ached, but he ignored it, determined to come from just being fucked tonight. It didn’t happen often, but it’d happened before. 

His phone chimed with a message, and he opened his eyes. 

puppydom: you have it inside you pretty boy?

fix_on: Yes sir, it feels so good

puppydom: how big?

fix_on: 8 inches

Puppydom typed for a minute.

puppydom: closer than 6

Mingi closed his eyes, taking a centering breath, which didn’t work very well due to the eight inches of silicone in his ass. 

fix_on: You talk a big game, how am I supposed to believe you?

puppydom: you want to see my cock?

fix_on: Well how do I know you’re not lying?

puppydom: [1 attachment]

Mingi tapped on it. Puppydom’s cock looked big even in his enormous hand. The photo was taken from above, as if he’d taken a quick picture while sitting in a chair stroking himself.

fix_on: Fuckkkkkkk

fix_on: You had that ready to go

puppydom: who’s to say I’m not getting myself off too?

fix_on: You took that now?

puppydom: easier than trying to find one in my camera roll

fix_on: Lol so real

puppydom: how does that eight inches feel?

fix_on: Good, wish it was you after seeing that fucking picture

puppydom: me too

puppydom: even just looking at the pics on your profile i want to be all over your pretty body

puppydom: want to make you look all fucked out

Mingi moaned. He really had gotten lucky tonight. 

fix_on: You’re good at this, I wanna be such a good boy for you

puppydom: don’t fuck yourself

puppydom: just wait with it inside you

fix_on: What am I waiting for?

puppydom is requesting an audio call!

Mingi swallowed before pressing the button to pick up the call.

“Hey, pretty.” A smooth voice said, and Mingi bit back a moan.

“Hello.” Mingi sighed. “Your, uh— your voice is hot.”

Puppydom gave a low chuckle. “You’re so sweet, such a good boy for me.”

Mingi couldn’t hold back his whimper. 

“Mmh, there’s a good pet.” Puppydom said. “What do you need?”

“Need you to fuck me.”

“Why don’t you use those eight inches and do that yourself? Then maybe we can talk about that.”

“Talk about that.” A thrill went through Mingi at the thought of Puppydom actually fucking him. 

“Yeah.” There was some shuffling, and then his voice changed a bit, as if he’d been put on speakerphone. “Sorry, setting you down so I can… well, I mean, I just showed you what I’m doing. But yes, your pictures are hot as fuck, and we’re in the same area.”

“I really want your cock.” Mingi breathed.

“Later, puppy. For now, why don’t you start to fuck yourself?”

Mingi reached between his legs to grab the base of the toy and slowly began to pump it in and out of his hole. 

“Your breath is all shaky.” Puppydom observed. 

“Yeah, it feels good.” Mingi whispered. 

“Where’d all your talk go?” Puppydom’s voice was light, teasing. “You were demanding to know if my dick was actually as big as I claimed just a minute ago, and now you’re a whimpering mess.”

Mingi knew this website was supposed to match him with someone sexually compatible so they could message or call. But he’d been on and off of it for a few months now, and he’d never found someone who pushed all his buttons quite like Puppydom did.

“Such a good omega for me.” He continued, humming.

Mingi swallowed a wave of guilt. “I wanna be your good pet.”

“You wanna be mine? My toy?” Puppydom’s voice got a little breathier, and Mingi imagined him moving his big hand up and down his cock faster. 

“Yes, I do, I want to be yours, sir.”

“Sir.” Puppydom laughed. “So good for me, remembering my title. Can you go faster for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck, I wish we could do a video call, I want to see you taking it so bad.”

Mingi sighed, both regretful and happy that the website they were on didn’t have video calling capabilities. “Yeah, I wish you could see it too.”

“Soon.” He promised. 

Mingi’s stomach lurched.

The thought of Puppydom actually fucking him was so good— Mingi wanted him so bad. But it could never go past the website.

Puppydom wanted an omega, and that’s what Mingi sold himself as. But he was not an omega. Mingi was an alpha, an alpha with a huge cock and an even bigger submissive side.

And surely Puppydom wouldn’t want to fuck alpha Mingi, not the same way he’d want to fuck omega Mingi.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fucking himself harder to try to banish the thoughts. 

“Fuck, I can hear how wet you are.” Puppydom exhaled. “So fucking good for me.”

“Can I come?”

“Hmm, we’ll see.” Puppydom said playfully. “Maybe. Are you close?”

“Yeah.” Mingi whispered. He was not close, but the guilt he felt at his lie made him want to get off the website as soon as possible. 

But Puppydom was so hot, and he was sure he’d talk him through his orgasm, and that would be so good to hear….

“Good pet.” Puppydom said. “Good. Can you hold it for me for a second?”

Mingi moaned. “I don’t know, please…”

“Be a good boy.” Puppydom hummed. “Lose it.”

“Lose it?” Mingi repeated, startled. 

“Yes.”

“But—”

“Don’t come, or I’ll make you regret it.”

Mingi somehow was getting close— his earlier guilt had been burned away by the sensations coursing through him. “No— no, sir, please let me come—”

“Lose it.” The sternness in Puppydom’s voice only made Mingi want to come more, but he pulled the toy out.

“I took out the toy.” He whimpered. “I won’t come.”

“Good pet.” Puppydom hummed. “Good omega. You want my knot? You want to take me so well?”

“Mhm.” Mingi nodded to himself, the lack of stimulation making him almost delirious.

“Well—” Puppydom’s breathing got heavier. “Well I’m close, so be so good and tell me what you want.”

“Want you, sir— want you, alpha.” Mingi breathed into his receiver. “I want your knot in me, I want you so bad.”

“Keep going.” Puppydom pushed.

“I want to feel you breed me so full, your good pet, please, alpha, please!” 

Puppydom let out a series of breathy “ah-ah-ah”s as he came. Mingi thought it was the best sound he'd ever heard. 

His breathing steadied. “Good pet, talking so pretty for me.”

“Of course, sir.” Mingi whispered. 

“We’ll talk again, alright? If you want?”

“Yes, I’d love that.”

Mingi could hear the smile in his voice. “Good. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah.” Mingi smiled.

Puppydom hung up.

Mingi rolled onto his back, sighing. 

—

The next day at work, Mingi was all distracted. He was sitting at his desk, his hands poised over the keyboard, not typing anything, as things to text Puppydom later that night ran through his head.

“Hey, Mingi?” His best work friend, Wooyoung, peered over the top of his cubicle. 

Mingi jumped, looking at Wooyoung. “Woo!”

Wooyoung raised his eyebrows. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Mingi cleared his throat. “Yes. What can I help with?”

“Hongjoong wants you.” Wooyoung jerked his head towards the conference rooms. “Meeting with finance.”

Mingi closed his eyes. Finance was the worst to deal with. “Okay.”

He walked to the conference room and took a seat beside their boss, Hongjoong. “What’s this about?”

Hongjoong sighed. “Apparently our department’s way over budget.”

Mingi sighed, too. “A surprise budget meeting. My idea of fun.”

“I know.”

A man walked into the room, and Mingi’s chest jumped. 

Jeong Yunho was the only person Mingi liked in finance— and perhaps he liked him a bit too much. He could feel his heart rate start to rise, and he fought to keep his pheromones under control. 

Calm the fuck down, he’s just a guy… he’s an alpha, and he’s probably not even gay. 

That thought sobered Mingi right up. He took a long, centering breath.

Yunho sat directly across from him, shooting him a perfectly professional smile. “Hello, Mingi.” It might’ve been Mingi’s imagination, but it seemed like he kept his eye contact for a second longer than necessary before turning to Hongjoong. “Hello, Hongjoong.”

Mingi cleared his throat. “Yunho. Nice to see you, I hope the budget isn’t too bad.”

Yunho laughed nervously. “It’s… it’s fine. We can get into it in a second.” His voice was deep, and smooth as melted chocolate.

“Oh, I forgot my laptop.” Hongjoong laughed. “I’m going to go grab it. I’ll be right back.”

Mingi nodded at him as he got up, leaving Mingi and Yunho alone in the conference room.

Mingi arranged his things in front of him, and then rearranged them in an awkward attempt not to stare at Yunho.

“Mingi.”

Mingi looked up. “Yes?”

“Don’t stress too much. The budget will be fine.” He smiled reassuringly. “My boss might lose it if we don’t cut some of it, but I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it all work. She’ll be fine.”

Lose it… that just made Mingi think of last night’s conversation with Puppydom, and his lost orgasm. He blinked to try to clear his head. “Yeah, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Yunho tilted his head at Mingi. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something, but then the door opened, and Hongjoong came back in, and he straightened up.

“Alright, let’s get this started.” He snapped open his laptop.

—

Mingi reached for his phone, his fingers flying over the screen, navigating to his favorite website in a private tab.

Search result: puppydom is online!

You have connected with puppydom!

puppydom: hey pretty, you’re up late

fix_on: Couldn’t sleep

fix_on: Thought maybe talking to you would be nice

puppydom: aw, how sweet

puppydom: i was trying to figure out someone to talk to while i get off but no one was really helping

puppydom: and we had such a good time the other night… if you’re up for it again

Mingi smiled. 

fix_on is requesting an audio call!

Puppydom’s voice was a little scratchy, but familiar. Maybe Mingi just knew it from their last call. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Mingi smiled wearily, even though he couldn’t see Puppydom. 

“Can’t sleep?”

“No, I just… I don’t know. I can’t, for whatever reason.”

“Maybe you just need to get tired out. Fuck it out.”

“Fuck, I’d love that.”

Puppydom’s voice turned patronizing. “Do you want to come?”

“Fuck, yes, I do.”

“Good omega. Why don’t you get out that six inch you were going to use the other night?”

“Six? Not the eight?”

“Yes, the six.”

“Why?”

“Fuck, if I’m being honest… I need to be the biggest thing that’s been inside you.”

Mingi’s cock ached, but his hole ached even more. “Fuck, sir, that’s so hot.”

“Get it out and then put it in. I want you to ride it.”

Mingi moaned. “Yes, sir.”

—

Mingi and Puppydom talked almost every night for the next week. Every time they connected, Mingi looked at the location indicator, the <10 miles blinking at him, taunting him. 

But he didn’t want to scare him off by asking to meet up, and didn't want to freak him out. Even though he was pretty sure he’d be up for it.

One week turned into two turned into three.

—

It was 4:45, the day at work had been long and annoying and tiring, and Mingi was ready to go home and talk to Puppydom and fuck himself stupid. As he waited for the elevator, he pulled up the website on his phone.

Search result: puppydom is online!

You have connected with puppydom!

fix_on: Fuck work sucked today

puppydom: ugh same

puppydom: i hate finance so much

The elevator opened, and Mingi got in without even looking up.

fix_on: Lol yeah I bet if I worked in finance I’d hate it too.

There was a small laugh from beside him, and Mingi looked up to see Yunho smiling at his phone. 

“Oh, hey, Yunho.” 

“Mingi!” Yunho shut his phone off immediately. “How are you?”

“I’m tired.” He sighed. “Ready to get home.”

“Me too.” Yunho ran a hand through his hair, and Mingi bit the inside of his lip. He was so hot.

They got to the first floor a few seconds later, and Yunho quickly stepped out, pulling out his phone again and holding it close to his chest. He threw Mingi a smile. “See you!” 

“Bye.” Mingi smiled back and closed the door, going down to the parking lot under the building. His phone dinged. 

puppydom: just got off the elevator, i’ll let you know when i’m home and we can talk, okay, pretty?

Mingi just stared at the message. 

Yunho had just gotten off the elevator.

Yunho worked in finance.

Yunho was an alpha.

Yunho most likely lived less than ten miles away. 

Was Yunho puppydom?

The elevator dinged, and Mingi got out and walked to his car. He opened puppydom’s profile and looked at that hand picture again, mentally comparing it to Yunho’s hands. Was he imagining the similarities?

He didn’t even respond to the message before he drove home, his mind whirling. Surely he was overthinking this, surely it wasn’t Jeong Yunho from fucking finance who’d been sexting him consistently for three weeks straight. 

Mingi parked and got back to his apartment, sitting on his bed and opening the site again. 

puppydom: made it home :] can i help you after your long day pretty boy?

Mingi didn’t reply for a moment. Then his fingers flew over his keyboard. 

fix_on: God, I’m sorry, I forgot I have plans with friends tonight. Can we talk tomorrow?

Mingi tossed his phone across his bed and flopped onto his back. But, of course, as soon as it buzzed, he was up and unlocking it.

puppydom: of course

puppydom: have fun with your friends :]

Mingi had bought himself one evening.

—

The next day, Mingi had a budget check-in meeting with Yunho and Hongjoong again, because of course he did. 

Mingi wanted to confront Yunho, but he also wanted to disappear off the face of the earth and never see him again. It was a real conflict. 

He arrived at the conference room fifteen minutes early, determined to set up and be the first there, but as he walked in, Yunho was already seated at the table. 

He inwardly sighed.

“Mingi.” Yunho looked up, his voice soft, the way it was when he was calling Mingi a good boy after he’d come. 

“Yunho.” Mingi forced his face into a smile, trying to squash his alpha pheromones, which he could feel rising with his unholy thoughts. 

“Is everything alright?” Yunho looked concerned, tilting his head like a puppy. 

“Yes.” Mingi walked to the chair across from him.

“Okay.” Yunho smiled, big, and Mingi could feel his arousal flare up even higher, despite his attempts to tamp down the flames. God, was he going into rut or something?

“What have you been up to recently?”

Mingi clutched the back of the chair. He suddenly felt hot and tingly, like his limbs were on fire. “I don’t— I don’t actually feel very good.”

“Oh, no.” Yunho jumped up. “Is there anything I can—”

“No!” Mingi took a step back. “I— I know what’s wrong, don’t— Yunho, don’t worry about it.” He felt for his bag, picking it up and all but running out of the conference room. 

Mingi was, in fact, going into rut. It was about that time in his cycle, but the fact that seeing Yunho and thinking about Puppydom was what had really triggered it was a little embarrassing. 

Mingi quickly popped his head into Hongjoong’s office and gave him his notice, and then he went to the elevator. 

Against his better judgement, he opened his phone.

fix_on: going into heat, alpha, need you

He wasn’t expecting a response, but Yun—puppydom replied almost immediately. 

puppydom: texting at work? tsk tsk, puppy, you must be pretty needy

fix_on: I am 

puppydom: want to meet up for real?

Mingi froze. The elevator dinged, and he got on.

They’d talked about meeting up a few times now, but it had never really gone anywhere. Mingi wanted it so bad, but the fact that he wasn’t an omega but in fact an alpha made that a problematic plan.

But he ached so bad…

fix_on: Yes

fix_on: I’m so fucking empty, please

puppydom: can you make it to my apartment or do you want me to go to yours?

fix_on: I can go to yours 

puppydom: i’ll send the address. i’ll meet you in the lobby, i’ll be in a black t shirt

Mingi swallowed as he saw the address. Just a few blocks from the office.

fix_on: See you in thirty

puppydom: can’t wait :]

Mingi went and sat in his car for twenty minutes, spiraling about how bad of an idea this was, before his timer went off and he got out to walk a few blocks.

It was pouring out, and Mingi felt like a wet cat by the time he got to the building.

He walked inside. And, of course, sitting in the entrance, in a black t-shirt, his hair slightly damp, was Jeong Yunho, looking down at his phone, biting his lip.

Confusion painted his features as he looked up and saw a very soggy Mingi.

“Mingi?” He stood. “Is everything— what are you doing here?”

“Puppydom.” Mingi choked out. “I’m fix on, and I’m here to meet puppydom.”

It was silent for a long second. 

“You’re fix on?”

“Yes.” Mingi held his breath. “You’re puppydom?”

“Yes. Mingi, I never… but you’re…” Yunho inhaled deeply, smelling Mingi’s pheromones. “Mingi, you’re an alpha. You’re not in heat, you’re in rut.”

“I know.” Mingi sighed. “I know that, Yunho, I know, I just… fuck, this was a bad idea.”

“You lied?” Yunho’s eyebrows flew up. “You said you were an omega in heat.”

“How many alpha men do you know that want to dominate other alpha men? Especially men who are tall and intimidating?” Mingi snapped. “I just wanted to live out my fantasy.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’d dominate you.” Yunho said, his voice low. “I’d dominate you, Mingi.”

“You’d— fuck, what?”

Yunho looked him up and down. “You look wet and miserable and like you desperately need to be fucked.”

Mingi whined softly. “Yes, please, Yunho.”

Yunho, his hot coworker, who also happened to be puppydom, took his hand and pulled him towards the elevator. “Then come upstairs.”

—

Yunho shut the door to his apartment, clicking the lock shut, and took off his shoes. Mingi followed suit. 

“You look pretty soaked. “ Yunho said, looking at him again. “Why don’t you get those clothes off?”

“Is this your way of getting me naked?” Mingi raised his eyebrows, but he was getting hard already.

“Yes.” Yunho grinned, his eyes twinkling. “Be a good boy and get those wet clothes off.”

Mingi’s stomach flipped. “Oh—okay.” He reached for the hem of his shirt. 

“I mean, not right here.” Yunho laughed. “Lets’ go to my bedroom.” 

“Oh. Yes, sir.”

Yunho took his hand again. “Good.” He led him further into the apartment, into a bedroom with a giant glass wall opposite the bed, showing off a beautiful view of the city below.

“Wow, big window.”

“Open or closed blinds?” Yunho raised his eyebrows.

“Would you judge me for saying open?”

A small smile worked its way across Yunho’s lips. “I wanted open, too.”

Mingi’s breath caught. This was actually about to happen. He was actually about to get fucked by Jeong Yunho from finance who was also puppydom. He was in rut, and Yunho didn’t hate him, and Yunho was about to fuck him. “You’re into exhibition.” 

Yunho laughed. “Yes, Mingi, I’m into exhibition. Is this surprising to you?”

“No, but it is exciting.” Mingi blinked at him, the hormones flooding his system fogging his mind.

Yunho sighed. “Get your clothes off.”

“Yes, sir.” With a glance at the window, Mingi loosened his tie, removing it before taking off his shirt, one button at a time. 

“Wait, stop.” Yunho said.

Mingi looked at him, his eyes big. “What?”

“Nothing, I just have to… appreciate.” Yunho took a couple steps towards him. “Can I touch?”

“Yes, please.” 

“Good boy.” Yunho praised, wrapping his big hands around Mingi’s waist. He moved them up his sides to his neck, and he pulled him into a kiss.

Yunho tasted a little like spearmint gum. Mingi moaned into his mouth, his own hands beginning to wander over Yunho’s frame. Yunho caught his lip between his teeth, biting down lightly. Mingi moaned louder. 

Yunho pulled back. “You like that, pretty boy? You like it when I bite you?”

“Yes.” Mingi sighed. 

“Lay back and I’ll bite you more. I’ll make it hurt.” Yunho promised. 

Mingi couldn’t get on the bed fast enough. He laid back on the pillows, crossing his wrists above his head. His legs were slightly open, enough that Yunho could fit between them.

“Oh, fuck.” Yunho’s voice was low, his gaze heavy. “Fuck, you look so good.”

Mingi bit his cheek. “Please touch me.”

“Of course.” Yunho straddled his waist, leaning over him, one of his hands coming up to hold Mingi’s wrists where they were. His other hand moved down Mingi’s chest, between his legs. “It’s my pleasure.”

Mingi gasped as Yunho’s hand began to rub his cock through his pants. “Please, please, sir, please…”

“You smell so sweet, so fuckable.” Yunho’s voice was molten amber, dripping over Mingi like he wanted to trap him forever. “My sweet little pet. What do you need?”

“Need you.” Mingi panted. “Need something to fill me up, please.”

“You need to be full?” There was the condescension again, that tone that got Mingi feeling hot all over. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, such a needy little pet.” Yunho crooned. His fingers found Mingi’s zipper, tugging it down and caressing him through his boxers. 

“Fuck, Yunho…”

“Sir.” Yunho said sharply. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” Mingi breathed, his eyes opening. When had he closed them? 

Yunho smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay, I’ll punish you later. For tonight, just focus on feeling good.”

Later.

Mingi nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” Yunho nodded. “Now tell me what you want.”

Mingi considered for a moment, but Yunho’s hand on his cock made his brain short out. “I— I just want you to fuck me.”

“Don’t want anything with this here?” Yunho gently squeezed. 

“No!” Mingi yelped. “No, I want you to— I want— I want you to do whatever you want to me, sir. I want to be your— your pet, your plaything.” 

“Fuck.” Yunho said softly. “That’s a good boy. I’m going to do so much with you, but I want my cock inside you now, and I have a feeling that’s what you need, too.”

Mingi was starting to go delirious with the force of his rut, and he nodded. The thought of being full was everything right now. 

Yunho leaned further over Mingi, nesting his head in the crook of Mingi’s neck and biting down hard. Mingi gasped, already feeling the skin beginning to bloom into bruises. “Fuck, sir.”

Yunho pulled back just long enough to mumble a, “good boy,” before he returned to biting a trail down Mingi’s neck and onto his chest. Mingi twitched with each motion of Yunho’s jaw, his cock and hole aching. 

Yunho pulled back for good. “God, Mingi, you’ve been so perfect for me. Let me reward you.”

Mingi’s head was all fuzzy now. He nodded as Yunho stood up, taking his pants off to reveal his hard cock. Mingi moaned, his lips parting, as he saw it. He was so big. Mingi needed him.

Yunho laughed softly. “Like it, pet?”

“Mhm.” Mingi nodded. Yunho helped him out of his pants, and Mingi shuffled onto all fours on the bed, looking over his shoulder at Yunho.

“Didn’t even have to tell you what to do.” Yunho said. “My perfect pet.”

“I want to be good.” Mingi mumbled. 

Yunho rummaged in his bedside table for a small bottle of lube, which he dribbled messily over Mingi’s hole. Mingi hissed at the cold. “Fuck, so pretty.”

Yunho began to open him up, one finger at a time. Mingi was already a wreck by two, and when Yunho began to tease his prostate, he came all over Yunho’s clean white sheets. He leaned on his forearms, panting.

Yunho hummed. “Messy little pet. That’s okay, I want you to feel good, can you keep going?”

“Yes.” Mingi moaned. “My knot didn’t come. Yes, sir, please, I can take it.”

“Okay, pretty.” Yunho resumed his work, and by the time he was satisfied, Mingi could feel himself on the edge again.

Yunho removed his fingers, and Mingi could feel something else at his rim now. “Fuck, sir, is that your cock?”

“Yes, puppy, can you take it?” Without waiting for a response, Yunho began to sink into Mingi. 

Mingi’s eyes rolled back. It felt so good to be full like this, to be used by Yunho like this. 

When he was fully seated inside Mingi, he paused. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yes.” Mingi said. “Yes, I’m okay, please fuck me.”

Yunho laughed. “A big alpha like you, reduced to a needy little thing when he gets turned on. You just need someone to show you your place, don’t you? You need someone to be your owner.”

Mingi whined. “Yes, sir.”

“I can be your owner, pet. I can take good care of you.”

“Please! Please, I want to come.”

“You’ll come, puppy, I promise. I promise. I take care of what’s mine.”

Yunho’s voice, that infuriatingly hot voice, was what did it for Mingi. He saw stars as he came, and he could feel his knot inflate into the air, his hips working wildly. 

“Calm down.” Yunho grabbed his hip. “You want me to keep fucking you, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Mingi whimpered, doing his best to stay still, but his legs wobbled. 

“Good boy.” 

His orgasm finished, and he took a deep breath.

“Do you really want me to keep fucking you, or do you want to take a break?” Yunho squeezed his hip gently. 

“Can we take just a quick break?” Mingi whispered. “I don’t want to be done.”

“Of course.” Yunho pressed a kiss to Mingi’s back. He pulled out, and Mingi whined at the emptiness, suddenly feeling very wrong without something big in his ass. 

“Let me get you a plug, baby.” Yunho got off the bed, and Mingi fell onto his side. He felt cold, and Yunho was gone, and he was so empty, and— and—

Mingi didn’t even realize he was breathing so hard until Yunho placed a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes flew open, looking up at him wildly. 

“Are you okay, Mingi?” Yunho asked gently. 

“I— you’re back.”

“I am.” Yunho held up a mid sized plug. “Let me put this in and we can talk, okay?”

Mingi nodded, and Yunho put the plug in before laying on his side next to Mingi on the bed. “What’s up?”

“I just—” Mingi took a deep breath. “You were gone, and I was so empty, and— I don’t know.”

Yunho hummed. “You sound like an omega in heat.”

Mingi clenched around the plug.

“You like that?” Yunho smiled. “All I mean is that is characteristic of omegas— if they’re getting fucked and they don’t get a knot, they usually get very upset. But— but you’re an alpha.”

“Yeah.” Mingi said. “That’s weird.”

“It’s okay.” Yunho rubbed his shoulder. “I’m back now. Do you want my knot?”

“Yunho?”

Yunho blinked. “Yes?” 

Mingi suddenly saw a bit of anxiety in Yunho. He was just as nervous for things to go well as Mingi was. It was reassuring. 

“I want your knot. But can we do this again?”

“What do you mean?” Yunho’s face was hopeful. 

“I mean, like, can we do this again? I like this.” Mingi whispered. “All of it. When you’re nice to me, and when you take care of me, and when you fuck me. I like it.”

Yunho smiled. “Yes, I like it too. We’ll definitely do this again.”

Mingi beamed. “Okay. Can I have your knot now?”

“Of course, baby.” Yunho tapped his leg. “I need you back in position for me, though.”

Mingi nodded, pushing himself back up. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” Yunho mumbled. “My good boy.”

[rafesteddy]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝓕𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂…

Ｍａｘ Ｃａｍｅｒｏｎ ｘ Ｒｅａｄｅｒ

𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙

c/w: mild language

I tried to include a few parallels from rafe x reader’s love story 🧸 there’s lots of family lore in this one. It’s based off an anon ask. Sorry it took so long hun. Also, I wanted you to get a feel of how they met before I wrote the rest of the ask. I hope that’s okay.

Winnie’s POV ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴⋆.

There’s a soft, golden haze hanging over the dining room—candlelight bouncing off glasses, silverware clinking, and somewhere in the background, a piano’s plays. My parents… sitting beside each other as always, doing that flirty eye-contact thing like it’s still their first date. I mean, seriously? You’d think after all these years they’d dial it back—but nope. Classic them.

Not grossly. Not in the way sometimes parents do when they think they’re being subtle but it’s actually unbearable. Just smiling at each other like they can’t help it. Chuckling at the same time at the little things—things that, even after a lifetime together, I’ve yet to pick up on. Leaning in close when one of the twins knocks over a glass or asks for another bite of mashed potatoes from their plate.

Mom’s all curled into Dad’s side, her hand resting on his arm, when her face suddenly lights up—like someone flipped a switch. She’s seen her.

“Baby,” she says, barely above a whisper, nudging Dad with this kind of urgent energy. Her hands flutter like she’s trying to land on the right words before they slip away. She grabs her cocktail, lifting it to his lips, his eyes going wide as he guzzles against his will.

“Just drink it, baby,” she says through gritted teeth and a smile as she looks out onto the dining room.

Dad finishes the last drop and she wastes no time, waving sweetly to someone behind me. “Oh! Sweetheart?” She calls gently, flagging the waitress with a smile like they’ve been friends forever.

I can see the wheels turning in her head as she reaches out, tapping her manicured finger rapidly on my phone screen, never breaking eye contact.

“Max,” she whispers to me. Dad sucks his teeth, fighting back a smile like maybe their plan is finally coming to fruition.

This trip, Max is MIA. Not elusive. Not wasting away in his room. Just living his best life. The single life. A life of afternoon wake-up times, lavish lunches, unlimited drinks, and a fake ID. Max practically lives on the pool deck these days, chasing sun like it’s his job. He’ll show up to family dinners now and then, mostly on his own schedule. Anything, really, to keep his brain from drifting back to Coco Thornton.

The waitress turns toward us—gives this quick, polite smile—and walks over, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear as she reaches our table. And yeah… she’s pretty. No, more than that—she’s the kind of beautiful that could knock the breath out of someone like Max. The kind that might actually make him forget, at least for a minute.

“Hi again,” Mom says warmly. “You’re working dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, just covering,” she smiles and nods. “They needed someone for the late shift.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Mom beams, gesturing to her empty cocktail glass. “Could I get another one of these? We’re celebrating.”

She gives this quick, breathy giggle and bobs her head like, “Yep, be right back,” then slips away. In that beat before the waitress disappears, Mom’s already shoving a look at Dad—her eyes shining like she cracked a code.

“She’s perfect for Max,” she murmurs, almost under her breath, like she’s launched a top‑secret campaign.

Dad just hums, wrapping his arm around her shoulder—practically a daily ritual at this point—leans in, and places that soft little kiss on her temple. “I know, baby,” he says, like he’s got this whole plan mapped out. “You were plannin’ their wedding last night. Think I forgot?” He teases as she rolls her eyes.

“It’s fate. She’s been doing the breakfast shift all week, and he’s been sleeping until noon… This is his moment.”

He chuckles against her skin, pulling her a little closer. “You need to calm down, pretty.”

“I am calm…” She sighs, and she means it, but she’s practically bouncing.

He rolls his eyes this time, tucking himself into her neck. “You’re doing a terrible job of playing it cool—”

“—She’s sweet, she’s gorgeous, she works mornings—he needs someone to keep him humble,” she cuts in excitedly as one of the twins starts to fuss.

“Quite the wingwoman,” Dad says, grinning as he wipes applesauce off the corner of Rory’s mouth with a napkin. “Text him, yeah?”

Your POV ᝰ.ᐟજ⁀➴⋆.

You ease the last dessert onto the corner of the table, trying not to bump the little girl’s elbow—or her napkin, which is a chaotic mess of crayon scribbles at this point. The twins shoot you these huge, open-mouthed grins, like you just handed them buried treasure or something.

Their eyes are all lit up, pure joy. It’s ridiculous, sure—but also kind of sweet. The way only little kids can get away with.

You start to turn but Rory yanks on your apron—quick and rough—practically shaking, eyes round and bright. He holds up this crumpled piece of paper, both hands wrapped around it like he’s been hanging onto it all day just waiting for you to look.

“I made the solar system,” he says, all serious. He pushes his glasses up without even looking at you, already laying the paper out flat like it explains everything. “That’s Saturn. That’s Jupiter. I made Jupiter big ‘cause it is. And it’s got a red spot—that’s a storm.”

You crouch slightly, hands on your knees, smiling wide. “This is amazing,” you tell him, and Rory lights up, cheeks pink with pride. His sister nods beside him like she agrees, chin already smeared with chocolate.

He’s still explaining his planets when Poppy taps your arm, holding a purple crayon. “I drew my family,” she announces, lifting up her paper proudly.

You bend a little to see—crayon stick figures in mismatched sizes, all holding hands. There’s Mom in a sundress, Dad with big muscles, Winnie with pompoms, Rory in his glasses, and a tall, messy-haired boy with a football in one hand and a red heart floating over his head.

“You have a big brother?” You ask, smiling as you gesture to the tallest stick figure.

Poppy nods. “Mhmm. That’s Max. He’s the best.”

Across the table their mom’s eyes crinkle as she leans into her husband’s shoulder. “Almost like you planned that one, sweetheart,” he murmurs with a warm laugh, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You want dessert, baby?”

She lifts her eyes—just as the front of the restaurant stirs behind you. “Mhmm… Oh, our son’s walking in now,” she says, smiling knowingly. “I think he knows what he wants to eat already.”

You glance toward the entrance—and that’s when you see him.

He’s tall. Like, really tall. His shoulders hit first—broad, easy. That kind of tan you only get by not trying. Hair all pushed back, but not on purpose. When he smiles—god, something just flips in your chest. There’s a cockiness to him, yeah, but the second his eyes hit yours, it changes. Like it catches him off guard. Like maybe he wasn’t expecting you.

You don’t move at first—your heart’s pounding—and he still doesn’t look away. He just walks right up and pulls out a chair

“Hey,” he says, voice low and rough.

His smile is there but under it, you catch it—a flicker of nerves.

“Hi–Umm… What can I get you?” You manage; eyes flicking to your notepad as your cheeks burn up.

“I’m not sure. What do you like?”

You tell him your favorite and he smiles, passing you back the menu with a gentle, “that sounds good. Thank you.”

You turn to leave, and the smile just sort of happens. By the time you make it to the waitstaff station and start tapping in his order, your stomach’s already doing flips.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ ˚

“We’re gonna get these two to bed. Just charge the room?”

You reach for the check, catching the generous tip scribbled across the receipt. Max’s mom gives you a soft smile before she laces her fingers through her husband’s. Rory trails beside her, while Poppy’s already fast asleep in her dad’s arms.

Max and his sister stay behind.

Right on cue her phone buzzes. Her face lights up instantly. “Jackson,” she says quietly, sweet and fond.

She stands, offers you a grateful smile and a little wave, then mouths a thank you before slipping away—leaving just you and Max.

It’s quiet for a beat. Long enough for your nerves to creep back in. Then he looks up, that grin back on his face.

“Now I can give you a proper hello,” he says, eyes glinting. “Since everyone’s not watchin’.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He straightens up in his seat. “I’m Max.”

You give him your name, and he smiles again—slower, softer. “Pretty name,” he says. “Suits your smile.”

You smile, soft and flustered, and let out a breathy sigh. “Thank you.”

“‘Course.”

“I heard you’re headed to Miami?” You ask a little too fast, nerves slipping out.

But it doesn’t faze him—he just grins wider.

“Yeah. And you?”

“Mhmm.”

Your answer makes his blue eyes spark. “How lucky am I?”

You bite back a smile.

“Kitchen’s closing soon,” you offer. “You want dessert?”

“Yeah. Whatever you like, sweetheart.”

Your heart stumbles at the pet name. He leans in, lessening the space between you. “I can take it to go. Since you’re closin’.”

You tuck a loose piece of hair behind your ear. “I get off in five, so…”

“So?” he asks, all hopeful charm.

“I’d love to talk more.”

His smile spreads, slow and sure, like he just won something. “I’d love that too.”

You step out of the kitchen a few minutes later, crisp white box in hand. Max gets up the second he sees you. Watching as you walk closer. You tilt your chin up to meet his kind eyes. Max doesn’t say much just smiles. Just takes the box from your hands and tips his head toward the door.

You fall into step; side by side. He keeps a bit of space, but it’s the good kind. Like if he’d known you a little longer, maybe his hand would’ve found your back. Instead, he just reaches ahead and opens the door for you—quiet, unhurried.

“Where to?” You ask, glancing over your shoulder.

He smiles—low and crooked. “Anywhere you wanna go.”

The deck’s quiet. Soft lights run along the rail, warm against the dark sky. There’s wind, just a little, and the ocean’s close enough to hear. You spot a spot that feels tucked away, like it’s waiting for you. Not hidden, but private enough. Just the right kind of quiet.

Max sets the box down between you, flips open the lid, and grabs the fork. “First bite’s yours.”

You giggle and lean in. The frosting’s sweet and decadent, lingering on your lip until you lick it clean. When you look up Max is watching you.

“Good?” He asks, voice rich and deep..

You nod, a little flustered. “Delicious.”

“Looks like it.”

You hand him the fork before your heart rate can climb any higher. And somehow, time stops mattering. The two of you talk like it’s the easiest thing in the world—about families, hometowns, Poppy’s drawing. He grins when you bring it up.

“I paid her to say that,” he jokes, bashful behind a bite of cake.

“You close with them?” You ask gently.

“Yeah we’re close,” Max says, like he’s proud. “Rory’s a genius. Like, actually smart smart. He knows more than I do already, which is kinda depressing.”

“Mhmm…” You hum and now. “Jupiter is an oblate spheroid, by the way.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Rory?”

“Rory,” you chuckle. “And Poppy?”

Pop’s a total daddy’s girl. She’s got this big voice and even bigger opinions—but she’s sweet too. Her and my mom basically run the house.

His grin tugs at your lips too, contagiously so.

“She’s the most put-together of all of us—super kind, super disciplined, a perfectionist for sure. She’s sweet but she’ll still wreck your ego if you cross her.”

“I can’t picture her being mean,” you say, like he let you in on a secret.

“I mean I’ve had to get in a few fights protecting Win, but she doesn’t need anyone really–she can handle her shit on her own.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, Winnie’s my best friend, honestly... I don’t think we’ve ever had a real fight.”

“What about your parents?"

“My parents, I don’t know… They’ve been together forever, and somehow they still act brand new. My dad tries to play it tough but he’s a goner around her. Always has been. He’d do anything for my mom—worships her, honestly.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Had me right after freshman year. Winnie came the next.”

“Holy shit,” you laugh.

“Insane, right?” He grins as he runs his fingers through his hair. Spent the first four years of my life livin’ next to a damn frat house—I got more “uncles” than I can count. But they made it work. My mom got a job teaching job back in my dad’s hometown, he started sellin’ yachts—”

“Yachts?” You chuckle.

“Sounds like a douche, right?” He chuckles. “I’m sure you get a lotta them here, huh?”

“All the time,” you answer simply. “Not all of ‘em.”

“I’m tryin’ really hard,” he answers honestly, his cheeks reddening as you giggle and sigh.

“You don’t have to–”

“I want to,” he stops you with a smile.

Under the soft glow of the deck lights, with cake between you and a warm breeze drifting off the ocean, something feels like it’s beginning. Small. Sweet. The kind of beginning that sneaks up on you and stays.

You shift the topic with a quiet smile. “So, are you staying in the dorms this fall?”

Max groans immediately, rolling his eyes. “Unfortunately. I was tryin’ to get out of it; had a plan to move into this football house off Alton Drive with a couple of the guys but my dad was like, ‘Nah, dorms build character’. So I’m staying in Centennial Village?”

He says it like more of a question than not. “I am too.”

“No shit?” He asks with a smile.

“Mhmm,” you say, holding his gaze. “Haven’t gotten my room number yet, obviously. But hopefully we’re close.”

“I hope so,” he says and it’s so raw, so honest, it makes you look away bashfully.

He tells you he’s moving in early August for football. You tell him you’ll already be there—working all summer. His face falls slightly. “No days off?”

“Not really. But I don’t mind.”

He gives you a look—soft and kind of pouty, like you just gutted him a little. “We’ve got a few more days, then.”

“Yeah. A few more days.”

He leans forward, thumb tapping open his phone. Then he passes it to you.

“Put your number in?”

You do and a moment later your phone buzzes with a new text from an unknown number, making your heart skip.

He walks you back, weaving through the ship, elevator dipping lower than most guests ever see. Max walks beside you, hand in his pocket, the other brushing yours, stealing glances like he wants to say something but keeps talking himself out of it. When you stop at your door, he smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast?”

“Really? I figured you weren’t a morning person. You’ve missed it all week.”

He hangs his head, slightly embarrassed and nods; blush creeping across his cheeks before he looks up at you again. “WelI am now.”

Max lingers a second longer. Standing close. You don’t know who leans in first—maybe both of you. But then he’s there, warm breath brushing your skin, and a kiss, right on your cheek.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, low and warm against your skin. And just like that, he turns and walks off, stealing over last glance before he takes the turn to catch you staring and it’s nothing but butterflies.

You don’t move. Not at first. Not until he’s gone and your heart calms just enough to function. You slip into your room, standing there for a second. Back pressed to the door. Heart still racing like you haven’t quite caught up to yourself.

Eventually, you crawl into bed, still smiling—Max’s number burning a hole in your pocket. You take it out, thumb hovers for a second before you type…

You read it once. Then again. Your cheeks flush; stomach fluttering. You set your phone down on the pillow, relaxing into the sheets.

Outside, the ocean keeps rolling beneath the ship, and floors above, Max lies awake in his family’s suite, phone still in his hand, replaying the exact moment his lips touched your cheek—wondering how the hell he’s supposed to sleep now.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ ˚

@rafesthroatbaby | @ietss | @lilithblackkk | @rafecameronsfavourite | @my-name-is-baby | @urmotherlvr | @forgiveliv | @barnesboo1967 | @wtfisastiles | @k4yr14 | @taliescapes | @rafesbuzzcutseason | @sky-44 | @biascriptum | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @lolasangelz | @st8rkey | @lhhlver | @slut-4-rafey | @gri959 | @prettybabyyyy | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @maybankslover | @littlelamy | @buckybarnessweetheart | @angelicameron | @lover-girlyy | @rcameronlova1 | @rafesbabygirlx | @mayanqueenxx | @bimbob1tch | @dylsdaily | @blair-bears-blog | @akobx | @countryclubwhore | @esmerai-artemis | @jkmylove97 | @wtfdudesblog | @livie4lifestarkeyblyth | @yasmin-oviedo | @queen-cs | @floredaqueen | @alexxavicry | @aerie717 | @cokewithcameron | @premiumshitt | @rcameronlova1

[codfxrn]

BACK TO YOU; BOB REYNOLDS

✍️Author's Note: I hope you enjoy it. I’m sorry if there’s anything wrong with the story—English is not my first language, so I apologize for that.

⚠️Content Warning: This story contains sensitive themes related to amnesia, emotional trauma, memory loss, unrecognized parenthood, and emotional grieving within intimate relationships.

Robert Reynolds x f reader!

Summary: After a devastating accident, Bob Reynolds wakes up with no memory of his recent life. He doesn’t remember his wife. He doesn’t remember the son he never got to meet. All that remains is the weight of a dark past that threatens to pull him away from everything that once felt like home.

But there are gazes you never forget. Hands that know how to find their way back. And a love that, though forgotten by the mind, remains untouched deep within the soul.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee floated through the air like a whisper. It was warm, familiar, so full of him that it felt like it was hugging her from the kitchen. Outside, the sky was covered by soft clouds, like stretched-out cotton over the window. She half-opened her eyes, still tangled in the sheets, feeling the warm brush of dawn on her skin.She stretched slowly, blindly reaching for the warmth she was used to finding beside her. But the right side of the bed was empty. The space he usually occupied was still slightly sunken, still held his scent—of soap, of coffee, of him—and something in her chest filled with immediate tenderness.Before sitting up, she gently clutched the sheet and brought it close to her body. She couldn't help but smile. The night before still pulsed in her legs, on her neck, in the way memories touched her without permission. She closed her eyes again and sank into the mattress, letting her body disappear between the pillows.Her thoughts revolved around him—his clumsy hands, his kisses that always seemed to ask for forgiveness even when there was nothing to forgive. His stifled laughter in the dark. The way he said "I love you" like it was the first time. And the last.

And then, footsteps.

Soft, barefoot steps approaching down the hallway with that mix of clumsiness and care that only he had. And before she could turn around, his voice.

"Good morning, my love."

Bob walked in with a cup in each hand and the most shamelessly sweet smile that could possibly fit on a face like his. His hair was tousled, and his cheeks were still slightly pink from the steam of the shower.

"Smells like Thursday," he joked, "but I wish it were Sunday just so I could stay like this with you all day."

She sat up slightly, her hair falling over one shoulder, and smiled at him like her heart was about to leap out of her mouth. And maybe it was.

"Isn’t it cheating to bring coffee in a cup if you’re not included with it?"

Bob chuckled softly, placed the cups on the nightstand, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. Then her cheeks. Then her nose. Until she closed her eyes, surrendered.

"I come included, ma’am," he murmured. "Always."

He slipped under the covers and wrapped an arm around her. She immediately nestled against his chest, as if her body knew exactly where it belonged. She rested her head right above his heart, that place where every troubled thought disappeared, and he began to stroke her hair with the gentleness of someone who’s learned not to let go of what they love.

She traced slow circles on his bare skin, just below his collarbone, feeling the slight shiver it caused in him.Bob breathed deeply. As if the whole world existed only within that room, that bed, the two of them between white sheets and quiet promises.

"Can we stay like this forever?" he asked, half joking, half pleading.She smiled without opening her eyes.

"We can try."

He lowered his head, kissed the crown of her head, then her temple. And without words, he began to leave tiny kisses all over her face, one after another, as if he were writing something on her skin. She laughed softly but didn’t stop him. Until her fingers paused on his chest.

"Bob..."

The way she said it made him stop immediately.

There was something different in her voice. A tremble. A barely held glow. He gently shifted her to face him, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers, and seeing the emotion in her eyes, he furrowed his brows tenderly.

"What is it?"

She looked at him, with tears brimming, with lips trembling for everything she was about to say and everything it would change.

"I'm pregnant."

The world stopped.

Bob froze. So still he didn’t even blink. His face slowly opened like a crack in the earth before blooming: first surprise, then disbelief, and finally... light.

"What?" he whispered, as if the words were too big for his throat. "Really?"

She nodded. And then she watched him break from love.

He brought both hands to his face, and his eyes filled instantly. The emotion overtook him without warning, like a wave that wipes everything out. A trembling laugh escaped his chest, and at the same time, tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Oh my God..." he murmured. "We're going to have a baby. You and me... a baby."

He hugged her. Not tightly, but with the kind of embrace that was so light and yet swept everything away. He rested his forehead against hers, crying now without shame, eyes squeezed shut and heart beating like it couldn’t contain it all.

"I never thought this was meant for me," he said through sobs. "

That it could be real. Not after everything I was."

She caressed his face, with absolute tenderness. Like someone holding a child who doesn’t know what to do with his joy.

"Now you're going to be a dad, Bob."

"I'm going to give them everything," he gasped, touching her belly with the tips of his fingers like the gesture made it sacred. "I'm going to give them what I never had. I swear it on everything I am. For you. For us."

They looked at each other for a long time, in silence.And in that moment, the past didn’t exist.

Only that room. Only that promise.

But no one told them that happiness could dissolve in the blink of an eye.It was supposed to be a minor mission.

An exchange. Information for seized weapons. Neutral territory. An abandoned hangar on the outskirts of Warsaw. Dry wind. Cracked pavement. Few people.

There was barely any noise. Everything calculated so it would be nothing more than a formality.

She was with them, undercover, in the observation vehicle. The sensors showed everything was stable. Her heart was beating faster than her pulse indicated, but that had been usual ever since she got pregnant. Five months. Long enough for Bob to name the baby even before knowing the gender. They hadn’t told anyone else yet. Just them. Just that bubble of sweet, unrepeatable promises.She didn’t have permission to intervene. Only to observe, to record. And to protect herself.

Yelena was up front with Bob. He had insisted on making the contact alone. That it was simple. That they’d be back in under an hour. She watched him from afar, that relaxed stride Bob had when he didn’t suspect anyone but was still ready for anything. Yelena, alert with a light weapon, covering his back.

For a moment, the sun peeked through the clouds.And then the world exploded.

A dry, massive roar tore through the hangar. The first explosion didn’t come from inside but from the opposite side, where no one was looking. An improvised bomb. Or a planned attack. No one knew. The flames rose like a tongue of living fire, the concrete shattered. Dust covered everything.

She didn’t hear her own scream.

She only felt her body react: trembling legs, the instinct to run, the sharp pain in her belly and her hands on it. Automatic protection.

The air filled with smoke, with screams, with falling debris. Suddenly, civilians appeared: workers from the site, children hiding among cargo. Chaos erupted without direction.

And Bob... Bob was no longer where she last saw him.

"BOB!" she tried to scream, but her throat didn’t respond. Just air and dry sobs.

Yelena intercepted her, grabbing her arm before she could run toward the epicenter. Her face was covered in dust, her gaze fierce.

"Stay here! Don’t move!"

"He’s there!" she gasped, her voice barely holding together. "And the people...!"

But Yelena was already running.

She staggered forward, took a few steps, searching through the smoke, through the screams. Her heart pounded in her chest, her hands shook. Fear pierced her spine. Her body told her to stay still, but her soul pushed forward. And then she saw him.

In the distance.

Through fire and rubble.

Bob. Running.

He threw himself against a burning wall that separated a group of civilians. He pulled them out one by one, yelling at them to run.

A little girl fell, and Bob saw her—even she did.

He gave a quick glance, as if his first instinct was always the woman he loved, then went back. He lifted the girl in his arms as she cried, shielding her with his body.

And then, another explosion.

This one closer. Targeted.

A second blast. Precise. Devastating. As if someone had waited for exactly that moment. An attack. A weapon. It wasn’t random.

The impact hit him head-on.Bob barely had time to wrap the girl.

It was an orange flash, a violent detonation that threw him to the ground like a broken doll. His body landed several meters away. The girl rolled aside. But he... he didn’t get up.She let out a dry sob. The air left her body.

"No... no, please..." she whispered. She brought her hands to her face, her belly, her mouth. The world spun. The world was collapsing.She reached him as best she could. Crawling through glass and dust, her legs giving out, her vision blurred with tears. She called his name but it didn’t sound like anything. Just broken gasps.

"Bob... please..."

She found him lying on his back, his torso burned, one leg at an unnatural angle. His face was bruised, swollen. His breathing barely there.

She knelt beside him, her knees giving way. She caressed his face. There was blood on his forehead. Soot on his lashes. He wasn’t responding. His eyes didn’t open while his chest rose and fell irregularly.

"I’m here," she said, her voice shattered. "Bob... love... I’m here. We’ll save you, okay? You’re going to be fine. You’re with me."

She held him with both hands. Kissed his forehead. Wiped his face. Her own breathing grew uneven.

" Our baby needs you. I... I need you. Stay. Please, stay...

But Bob didn’t glow.

He didn’t heal. He didn’t move. He was just a massive body, battered, broken.

At first, they went every day.

Her. Yelena. Sometimes John, sometimes Bucky.

The hospital room was a cursed sanctuary: full of flowers no one smelled, letters he couldn’t read, clumsy drawings taped to the walls. The monitors gave off a constant hum, like a whisper that said nothing. Bob slept. Or so they said.

An induced coma, clinically controlled. His body had collapsed under the neurological trauma. The effort not to unleash his power, not to lose himself, had left him caught between two worlds. His body was regenerating slowly.

His muscles were intact. But his mind—no one knew if it would ever come back.

At first, she talked a lot. She read him books. Told him stories about the baby. Held his hand gently, as if her fingers were threads connecting two different realities. But as the days passed, the weeks, the months... her voice became a whisper. Then, silence.

Six months after the accident, Eliott was born.

It was a silent birth.

He cried loudly when he came out, but she didn’t.

She just held him and looked at him, tearless.

Because in that moment, the only thought she had was: he’s not here to see this.

The baby was raised in everyone’s arms. Ironically, Yelena turned out to be the most patient. Alexei cried the first time he held him. Ava sang lullabies. But she... she raised him alone, with a part of herself frozen, always looking in the rearview mirror of her soul toward the hospital bed where Bob remained unmoving.

A year. A damn year.

That day, like so many others, she walked into the room without expecting miracles. She sat beside him. The same as always. Monitor. Steady breathing. Thinner body, but strong. Sometimes he looked like he was dreaming, his brow slightly furrowed. Sometimes, like he was dead. And in the middle of it all, her.

She took his hand. Like always. Brought it to her lips. Kissed his knuckles. Said nothing. There was no need anymore. Just the contact. Just being there. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. The silence in that room was as intimate as it was cruel.

And then, the cry.Sharp. Full of fury, hunger, impatience.

She lifted her head with a slight jolt, just as the door opened and Yelena walked in with Eliott in her arms—flushed, disheveled, with a resigned expression.

"I swear motherhood is not my thing" she said, with the dry tone that now sounded like hidden affection. "I’ve tried everything. Songs, walks, vodka promises. Nothing works."

She laughed, barely. A broken sound, almost transparent, but real.

"What if I trade you for half an hour of sleep?"

"Deal".

Yelena walked over and placed the baby in her arms.

Eliott was crying like the world was ending, fists clenched, face bright red.

But the moment she held him, something changed.

She stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers, whispered a soft

“shhh, I’m here, my love... mommy’s here,” and he clung to her chest with a trembling sigh.

The eyes opened. Two blue beacons. So intense, so deeply identical to his father’s, that for a second, she felt Bob was looking at her.

The baby went quiet.

Fell asleep again.As if only she knew how to tame his chaos.

"You see that? " Yelena said softly from the wall. "That boy... that boy knows every inch of you. But when he looks at you... when he opens his eyes... I swear to God, it’s like having Bob in this world again".

She didn’t answer. She just kissed Eliott’s head. He smelled like warm milk and soap.

"It feels unreal" Yelena continued, her voice gentler. "A year. And here we are. Him, not moving. And you, raising a baby alone. Waiting. I swear, I don’t know how you do it.

"I don’t" she whispered. "I just... try. One day at a time."

"Do you think he’ll come back?"

The question hung in the air.Heavy with fear, exhaustion, with a hope that already felt indecent.

She looked at Bob. His hands. His still face. The scars that had mostly faded. And then lowered her gaze to Eliott, asleep against her chest.

"I can’t lose him twice."

Yelena bowed her head. Said nothing else.

The monitor kept its steady rhythm. 62 beats per minute.

As if Bob’s heart kept going out of sheer stubbornness.

The baby sighed. Bob didn’t move.

But she felt —for a fleeting, impossible moment, maybe imagined— that his hand, the one she was holding, trembled slightly.

A millimeter. An echo.

As if something in there… deep inside… was still trying to come back.

And she didn’t say it. She didn’t tell Yelena.

She just closed her eyes.And for the first time in a long while… she allowed herself to believe.

Eliott didn’t speak yet, but he said things no one else seemed to hear.

He had a way of looking at things, of furrowing his brow when he focused on a thread of light passing through the curtain, as if his mind was bigger than his months of life. He watched the world with an ancient seriousness, as if he already knew he’d arrived late to something important. Sometimes, when she held him against her chest and he barely opened his eyes to look at her, it felt like he wasn’t discovering her—but remembering her.

His lashes were thick. His hands small, but with long fingers that clung with the same disproportionate strength Bob used to hold her while they slept, tangled together. Sometimes he slept with his brow furrowed and a peaceful, focused expression, like he was dreaming of things too big for such a new heart.

When he cried, he didn’t throw tantrums. He cried with his whole body, with his lungs, with his feet. As if crying were an act of presence—a way of reminding the world he was alive in a world still waiting for someone else to return.

And when he calmed down, he did it all at once. Like Bob.

One rainy night, she rocked him by the window. He had a fever and a body warm like a handful of sunlight. She sang to him softly, even if she didn’t really know the words. She just hummed broken melodies—some made up on the spot, others Bob used to hum while washing dishes or making love to her between laughter. Eliott looked at her as if he understood, with those blue eyes that weren’t hers but didn’t hurt as much anymore.

"Sometimes I’m afraid to look at you" she whispered. "Because I don’t know if I’m seeing your father… or the son who’ll grow up without him."

Eliott just closed his eyes. His breathing slowed, deepened. His little hand clutched the fabric of her blouse and held it like an anchor.

She rocked him until morning came.

Yelena said he was a difficult baby. Ava said he was wise. Bucky said he had an old soul. But she… she knew he wasn’t any of those things. Or maybe he was all of them.

She knew Eliott carried the strength of someone who hadn’t asked to be born in the middle of tragedy—but was born anyway. He had Bob’s silent calm when things overwhelmed him. That way of going still, of locking the world inside himself and saying nothing. And he had his tenderness too—hidden, elusive, the kind you gave without naming it—when he pressed his forehead to her cheek like he needed to know she was there.

He didn’t say "mama." He didn’t say anything yet. But when she cried, even silently, even without a sound, he always looked for her. He would turn toward her with a little whimper, with one arm reaching awkwardly in just the right direction, with lips pursed like he was protesting her sadness.And so, she forced herself to breathe.

There were days when the hospital felt more like home than her own apartment. She’d bring Eliott wrapped in blankets. She’d sit in the same chair, beside the bed where Bob remained asleep. And she talked. Not to Bob, not anymore. To Eliott.

"That’s your dad" she’d say, stroking his hair. "They called him Sentry, but you’ll know him differently. Barefoot, with dirt-stained hands. With science fiction books he never finished. With that clumsy way of saying "I love you" without saying it. Just with actions. Just with silence. Like you."

Eliott looked at her, serious. Like he understood.

Sometimes she wondered if Bob could hear them. If in some tiny crack in his mind, their son’s voice was pushing through, forcing its way in like light through a closed door. Sometimes she dreamed he did. Dreamed that he woke up at the sound of that babble, that cry, that small noise of life that didn’t ask for permission.And in the meantime, Eliott kept growing.

Among warm milk, half-folded sheets, and a quiet tenderness that wrapped him like a blanket.

He had the strength of what endures.

And even though he didn’t walk yet, he had already learned the hardest thing:

To wait.

It was morning when Bob opened his eyes.

There were no epic sounds or held breaths. It wasn’t a revelation, or a heralded miracle. Just a blink. A subtle gesture. The kind of movement anyone would miss—unless they were watching him with the eyes of someone who had spent a whole year begging time to go back.

She was there.

Sitting in the same chair as always. With a cold mug in her hands.With her back hunched from holding onto hope for too long. Her gaze was fixed on his face, like she was guarding every shadow under his eyelids. And when those lids trembled, when the eyes barely opened, when the irises—blue, clouded, alive—met hers… something ignited inside her.

Or shattered. Or both.

"Bob…" she whispered. Her voice trembled.

He didn’t answer right away. He blinked. Looked at the ceiling. Then at her. And his brow furrowed. A grimace of confusion. As if his body was recognizing the light.

"Where…?" he said, hoarse, like his vocal cords were covered in dirt. "What is this?"

She dropped the mug and leaned toward him, heart pounding, hands shaking. Her fingers searched for his. Intertwined them.It was real.

He was awake. He was alive.

"You’re in the hospital. You had an accident, but… you’re here. You’re with me."

He looked down at their entwined hands.Then back at her.

Something on his face didn’t fit.It wasn’t the natural confusion of waking up.It was… distance.

Strangeness.

"Do I know you?" he asked, like it hurt to say.

She froze.

The air disappeared from the room.Hope, which had pulsed fiercely for one entire second, collapsed like a house of cards.

"It’s me…" she whispered. " I’m your wife."

Bob swallowed hard. Tensed.

His eyes narrowed. He tried to remember.Tried to dig through his mind.

But all he found was mud, noise, darkness.

Only that.

"No…" he said slowly. "No. I… I don’t have a wife. I can’t have one."

"Yes, you can. You did. You loved me, Bob. We got married. We lived together. We have a son…"

The word “son” tore through her throat.It was too soon. But she couldn’t stop it now.

Bob pulled away slightly. As if his body recoiled from the idea. As if it were absurd.His breathing quickened. He shut his eyes. A flash cut through his mind: an empty room, a scream, his father… his fist… blood.

"No, no, I… I’m not that person" he murmured, his voice breaking.

She stepped back a little. Not because she wanted to.But because she couldn’t breathe.

All the love she had held together with her teeth, with her bones, with every inch of faith, crumbled before her without anyone needing to push it.He didn’t look at her the way he used to.

There was no recognition. Only a void so brutal it felt like the real accident had just happened. The door creaked open, and Yelena appeared. She had a file under her arm and a look that faded the moment she saw the scene. She didn’t ask questions. She walked over slowly.

"What happened?"

"He… "the woman’s voice was barely a thread. "He woke up."

Yelena smiled, surprised. But only for a second.

"And?"

"He doesn’t remember me."

Bob turned his gaze to the window. Outside, a pale sky. He didn’t know who he was—only who he used to be. His mind clung to the past, as if everything else was a lie that tasted too sweet.

"Who are you? Who is she?" Bob asked Yelena this time, without anger, without fear—just lost.

"Why does she say she loves me?"

Yelena looked at her. Saw her trembling. Saw how tightly she clung to the bed rail, like it was the only thing keeping her standing.

"She’s the only reason you’re alive, Bob."

Silence.

"And the reason you wanted to change. The why behind everything."

Bob closed his eyes. Said nothing. But his face twisted. Like he wanted to believe her. Like something deep inside… hurt without a name.

She stayed there. On her feet. Inches from him. Watching him breathe. Listening to the rhythm of his heart on the monitor. And for the first time since the accident, she wished she hadn’t waited. Because this… this was worse than losing him. It was having him close—without being in his world.Not knowing if he’d ever return to it.

And even so, beneath the pain, a promise lingered. Not one spoken out loud. But one written on her skin. In the son sleeping in another room. In the memories only one of them carried now.

And she knew she would have to teach them to him from scratch.

As if love could be relearned.

Even if it cost her life. She didn’t bring it up again. Not a word about Eliott.

The doctor had called her into his office that afternoon, lips tight, eyes tired. He spoke of dissociative amnesia, of memory loss caused by extreme trauma, of how the mind, trying to protect itself, can erase even the happiest memories when love becomes tied to pain. He spoke of patience. Of small steps. Of “building new connections."

As if it were easy.

As if she didn’t feel like her soul had just died a second time.

She returned to the room with her heart trapped between her ribs. Bob was sleeping, exhausted from having been trapped inside himself for a year. Sunset light filtered through the window, spilling across his face. He looked the same. Everything about him was the same. His eyelashes. The soft crease between his brows. His breathing. The way his fingers curled by reflex when she, without thinking, touched his hand. But inside… he wasn’t there.

She visited every day. But not like before. She no longer read him books. No longer spoke to him as his wife. Just as a woman who once mattered—somewhere he couldn’t find.

"That’s my name… " she’d say whenever he looked at her with that uneasy expression, like trying to remember a movie he’d never seen. "I’m… a friend. We used to talk a lot."

Sometimes Bob nodded. Sometimes not. He spent hours staring out the window. Asked random questions. What day it was. How long he’d been there. And then… silence. Sometimes he spoke of his father. Of the yelling. The blows. The constant need to hide. Or disappear. She listened without crying. She didn’t cry anymore. Just watched with wide eyes, like someone witnessing a storm through glass, knowing there was nothing to stop it.

"Was I ever… someone good?" he asked one afternoon, voice low, almost ashamed.

She looked at him for a long time. Wanted to tell him everything. That he used to make dinosaur-shaped pancakes. That he learned to dance just for the first birthday they spent together. That he stayed awake when she had insomnia, telling her endless nonsense stories just to help her fall asleep. That his greatest fear was becoming his father—and because of that, he tried every single day to love well.

But she said none of that.

She just nodded.

"You were the best man I’ve ever known."

He looked away. Like it hurt. Like he didn’t believe he deserved it.

Sometimes, she stayed with him until he fell asleep. She’d watch his eyes close, watch him sink into the pillow like a lost child. In those moments, she allowed herself to brush his forehead with her lips, silently. A goodbye no one heard.

Then she’d leave. Walk the hospital halls like a ghost. Get home, take off her shoes, sit in the dark with Eliott asleep on her chest. She’d stroke his hair. Whisper things she wouldn’t be able to repeat if anyone asked. And when the baby woke in the middle of the night, crying like the world itself hurt, she would lift him up, press him against her neck, and whisper:

“Shh… it’s okay. Daddy’s coming back. He just doesn’t know the way yet.”

As the days passed, Bob began to ask more.

"Have I known you for… a long time?"

"Yes."

"Did I hurt you?"

"Never."

"Then why do I feel like I’m broken?"

That question shattered her.

Because she had no way to answer. Because all she wanted to do was scream that he wasn’t broken, only lost. That she loved him with the intensity of someone who had learned to love even the silence of another. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not when every step toward him had to be careful, measured, like his soul was a piece of glass just pulled from fire.

Some afternoons, he smiled. Small smiles. Fleeting gestures. Moments that came and vanished. But those were threads of hope. Cracks where something like memory could slip in. She held onto those in her chest, treasured them like relics.

And every night, before closing her eyes, she repeated the same thing:He would come back.

He’d find her again. He’d love his son—even from scratch.And if he didn’t, if he never remembered, she’d still be there. Because even if he didn’t recognize her...she hadn’t forgotten a single thing.

There was something about her that unsettled him.

Not in an aggressive or unpleasant way. It was subtle. Like the smell of toast in the middle of the night. Like a forgotten melody returning—not with its notes, but with the weight of memory. Every time she walked into the room, the air shifted. He couldn’t explain it. It became warmer. More livable.He pretended not to notice. But he did.At first, he avoided looking at her for too long. Because every time he did, something inside him tightened. It wasn’t fear—not exactly. It was a pang that felt like pain. A nostalgia without origin.

She, on the other hand, looked at him like she knew every inch of him. Not with pity. Not with sorrow. With restrained love, like a trembling glass of water in steady hands. And that way she looked at him… it unraveled him.One day, she brought a small plant to the room.

"You liked living things" she said, placing it on the table beside the bed.

"You know that too?"

"I know everything about you."

He nodded, uncomfortable. Not because he didn’t trust her. But because it hurt not being able to give her anything in return.

But over the days, his discomfort turned to curiosity. And curiosity… to need.

He began to ask her small questions.

"How… how did I like my coffee?"

"No sugar. Very hot. You always burned your tongue and pretended you didn’t."

"And cold days?"

"You hated them. Wore three sweaters, but still went outside just to prove you weren’t being dramatic."

She said it with a soft smile, as if she were stitching memories into something he could wear. And he listened, quietly, feeling something very old stir inside him.

One day, while she told him a story about a time they went to the woods—him remembering nothing, just accepting the image—he reached out without thinking and brushed her wrist.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, out of nowhere.She looked at him, confused.

"What did?"

"Losing me."

Her eyes didn’t water.

But they wavered.

"I'm still losing you."

They stayed silent. His skin on hers. His breath steady.

After that, something shifted.

He began to wait for her. He didn’t say it. Didn’t admit it. But his body tensed slightly before she entered. His pulse quickened. When he saw her, something in him breathed differently. He felt… safe. Something he didn’t remember ever feeling. Not in childhood. Not in memory. Not even in dreams.

One night, he couldn’t sleep.

She had gone. Yelena was on call.

The hospital hummed quietly in the background.

And he, alone in his bed, the plant beside him, thought of her.

Of her voice.

Of the way she touched his arm like it was made of glass.

Of her laugh—not loud, but deeply alive.

And suddenly, without knowing why, his eyes burned.

He cried in silence.

Without a clear reason. Without memory. Just with a chest full of something enormous, without a name.

And when he saw her again the next day, he looked at her differently. He didn’t remember her. But he recognized her.

As if something deep inside him was saying: There you are. I’ve been looking for you.

And that was enough.He wanted her close.

Even if he didn’t understand why.It had started to rain.

Raindrops tapped softly against the living room window, and the house was silent, except for the steady breathing of Eliott, asleep on her chest—warm and heavy like a coat that doesn’t want to stop hugging you.

She couldn’t sleep. Again.

She sat on the couch, lights off, only the corner lamp casting a soft glow on the walls. Eliott had finally fallen asleep after a particularly hard night—low fever, constant crying, that kind of despair babies feel without understanding, but that mothers recognize in their very soul. She had calmed him with songs Bob used to make up, with words no longer spoken, with desperate tenderness.

And now, there she was.

Alone. Like every night.

With the child of a man who didn’t recognize he had a child. With the love of her life just feet away each day, looking at her as if she were just a kind shadow visiting.

She ran a hand down her face, exhausted. Not just physically. It was a deeper kind of tiredness—the kind that comes when your heart becomes a promise held together with wire.

"What am I supposed to do with you, my love?" she whispered to Eliott, who sighed deeply, lips slightly parted.

The idea of telling Bob the truth fluttered around her head like a wounded bird. Sometimes it brushed her chest. Other times, it pecked at her ribs. She thought about it in the mornings, folding Eliott’s tiny clothes. She thought about it when Bob looked at her with those eyes that didn’t remember her—but seemed about to. She thought about it every time, leaving the hospital, Eliott reached toward the building as if he knew his father was inside.

But the doctor had been clear. “Don’t overwhelm him. Let him regain ground. Forcing memories could do more harm.”

And she, who had seen him shatter once, couldn’t take that risk.

And yet…Wasn’t this also a form of betrayal?

"I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing or the wrong one" she whispered into the air, running her hand down the child’s back. "I don’t know if I’m protecting you… or myself."

Because there was something worse than forgetting.

And it was knowing everything… and not feeling anything. Knowing they had a child—And not loving him. Knowing who she had been—And not wanting to be that again.She bit her lip. Tears pressed against her throat, but didn’t fall. She didn’t cry easily anymore. The body learns to conserve water when the soul dries out.

She looked at Eliott. Touched his cheek.He looked so much like him.

The same profile.

The same way of sleeping.

The same eyes.

She held him tighter. As if holding him could somehow remind Bob of what they were.

"I’ll wait a little longer" she said in a thin voice. "Just a little more. Until he looks at me… like before. Until he takes my hand and doesn’t let go. Until his heart says my name, even if his mind can’t. And then..." she whispered with hope "I’ll tell him. Everything. The name. The birth. The first blind steps. The lullabies he invented without knowing. The way Eliott calls for him in his dreams. And the night he woke up and cried… like something in the world was missing. I’ll tell him. And if he doesn’t love me… if he can’t love me again… Then at least he’ll know I did it for both of us. For the man he was. For the father he doesn’t know he is. And for the boy who carries his soul in his chest."

And that night, for the first time in weeks, she fell asleep.

Sitting. With Eliott in her arms.

And with her whole heart… knotted in silence.

The days passed slowly, like a clock with no hands. She told him who he was, where he was, what had happened.

They told him he’d been in a coma, that he’d need to rebuild his memory like a collapsed building.

They promised him he wasn’t alone. That someone loved him. That someone was waiting.

But Bob didn’t feel it.

His eyes scanned every corner of the room, looking for answers no one seemed willing to give.

He heard the words, repeated them in his mind, but there was a hole in them. A hairline fracture.“Where’s the truth?” he wondered, with dry lips and a heart on edge.

One day, when she stepped out to take a call, he kept staring at the place where she had disappeared. And that’s when doubt settled heavy in his chest.

"Who am I, really?" he whispered to himself. "Who was I before?"

He remembered fragments. Blurry ones. A father shouting. Blows that hurt more than skin. A child retreating into himself. But he didn’t remember the hands that had held him, or the voice that calmed his fear.He didn’t remember love.

He started to question everything he’d been told.

Why did no one mention a child?

Why was there such fear around what he might remember?

Why did every answer feel like a wall—unseen, but solid?

He felt like they were protecting him.

But also… keeping him at a distance. And in that bitter confusion, a spark lit.

Something in his chest—A feeling, a silent certainty—told him he couldn’t trust fully. He wanted answers. But he feared them, too.

One day, when she returned, she found Bob sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the floor, jaw tight.

"Why won’t you tell me everything?" he asked, voice strained, like speaking hurt. " What are you hiding from me?"

She looked at him, pale, eyes full of unshed tears, and could only whisper:

"I’m protecting you."

"But I need to know" he said, with a mixture of pain and anger. "I need to know who I am now, not just who I used to be".

She lowered her head. Speechless.

He took a deep breath, feeling the world falling apart and rebuilding itself with pieces that didn’t quite fit. He knew the path back to himself would be longer and darker than he’d imagined.

But he couldn’t go on walking it with his eyes closed.

The room was bathed in soft light, broken only by the whisper of a monitor and the gentle breath of a sleeping child in someone else’s arms. Bob watched her with half-open eyes—still vulnerable, still wary, but with a curiosity he could no longer deny.

Eliott was in Bucky’s arms, who had come to give her a break. The child shifted, furrowed his brow, and opened his eyes—for the first time since Bob had awakened.Bob blinked.

The boy had something that disarmed him.

Something that ignited a memory that wasn’t a memory.

An invisible spark that brushed against his skin without burning it.

The baby looked at him with those blue eyes—deep, knowing—As if trying to say something he didn’t yet know how to hear.In that moment, Bob felt something like a heartbeat in his chest.

An ache, ancient and new.

A silent call that froze his blood and stirred his soul.He reached out slowly, carefully, as if touching a dream, and brushed Eliott’s cheek.

The baby whimpered, then immediately calmed—As if he had recognized the touch. Bob’s gaze filled with unspoken questions—With empty spaces now being filled by the quiet presence of that tiny being.

For the first time, he felt a real bond. Strong. Invisible. But impossible to deny.

She walked into the room with soft steps and the trembling smile of someone who knows this moment is both a miracle and an open wound.

"His name is Eliott" she said in a quiet voice. "He’s our son."

Bob looked at her, speechless, not fully understanding, but with the unshakable certainty that something had been reborn.In that moment, the shadows of the past seemed to retreat just a little.

The days turned into a landscape of small moments, woven between doubts and flashes.Bob tried to remember: her voice, the smell of the house, the feel of Eliott against his chest. But memory was a thick fog, a maze with no map.

Every time she entered the room, he felt an overwhelming mix of calm and confusion. As if his heart knew the way, but his eyes couldn’t find the path.

She spoke to him with patience, with the kind of love that only grows when you’ve lost something irreplaceable. She told him stories—not expecting him to remember, just so he could hear them, feel them.

Eliott, in his quiet presence, became a bridge between them. Sometimes Bob would look at him in silence and wonder how someone so small could carry so much life inside.

There were days when memory seemed to peek through—a fleeting flash that made him shiver. The taste of coffee. The warmth of an embrace. A laugh that felt familiar but distant.

But there were dark days too, when confusion swallowed him whole, and sadness wrapped around him like an unrelenting shadow.

And yet, through it all, one thing became clear: the will to return—to her, to Eliott, to what they had once been.

Because even if memory failed him, his heart was beginning to feel something unfamiliar, something he had once feared.

And that was only the beginning. Bob watched Eliott with curious eyes, not fully understanding, but feeling something warm that anchored him to that tiny sleeping body.

She, patiently, brought them closer. In the living room, in the bedroom, in the garden when the sun was kind. Little by little, the distance between them closed without them even noticing.

Bob would stroke Eliott’s head, feeling a connection that defied logic. It was like a distant echo resonating in his chest—a forgotten melody he couldn’t stop hearing.

And when she looked at him, with that gaze he didn’t remember but seemed to recognize, Bob found himself responding instinctively—with soft gestures, with a tenderness that surprised him.

It was strange. It was familiar.

As if his heart knew she was home, even if his mind couldn't find the door.

One afternoon, while Eliott slept in his arms, Bob looked at her and smiled—without really knowing why.

"Is he always like this?" he asked softly, nodding at the baby. " So calm?"

She laughed, a sweet sound that lit up the room.

"Not always. But with you, it seems like he is."

Bob felt something stir inside him. Something that wasn’t memory—but instinct.

And though he couldn’t recall everything, he knew that there, in that room, with the two of them, he was beginning to find his way back.

Bob had been more awake lately. Not necessarily clearer—but more present. As if his body was moving ahead of his memory. As if the world, slowly, was no longer a blurry photograph.

That day, she arrived with Eliott in her arms. He was wrapped in a gray blanket, a little hat covering him down to the eyebrows. The child slept deeply, his brow slightly furrowed, like he was dreaming about things too serious for his age.

Bob looked up at the sound of the door. His eyes didn’t light up, nor dim. They just settled on the small bundle in her arms.

She came closer without speaking. Sat beside the bed, as always.

"Can I?" she asked quietly, almost timidly.

Bob didn’t answer with words. He just looked at the baby, then nodded. He didn’t know why he agreed. He only knew there was something about this child… that he couldn’t reject.

Eliott stirred as he was moved. His tiny body tensed for a second, then relaxed as she gently laid him on Bob’s lap. His eyes still closed. A chubby hand gripping his own sweater.

Bob didn’t know what to do. He just held him. Stiff at first. Like he was afraid he might break.

And then Eliott opened his eyes.

Blue. Deep.

Bob felt a soft jolt—not violent, but heavy. A shift inside. As if something within him recognized the boy before he did. As if this child wasn’t discovering him, but finding him again.He said nothing. There were no words for it.

Eliott raised a clumsy hand. Touched Bob’s chin. His skin was warm, insistent. Then he let out a soft sound, a little babble—like a half-formed vowel. And Bob felt his eyes sting. Not with sadness. With something deeper. Something being born without explanation.

"Does he… always do that?" he asked quietly.

"Do what?"

"Look at you like he knows more than he should."

She smiled. A toothless, tired smile—but real.

"He’s done it since the day he was born."

Bob lowered his eyes to the baby’s, unblinking.And in that instant, a smell crossed his mind.

It wasn’t in the room. He hadn’t smelled it in months. But it came to him: fresh coffee—the kind that lingers on a specific morning—along with the brush of bedsheets and a voice saying, “Smells like Thursday.”

He blinked.

The memory didn’t stay. Not fully. It was like a loose leaf carried by the wind. Just a brush. But enough to leave an echo.

Eliott yawned. Then curled against Bob’s chest. No fear. No doubt. As if that had always been his place.

Bob closed his eyes.

And for a second, his body believed it.

He didn’t think about lost loves. Not about who he was. Not who he was supposed to be.Just about the warmth of that small body.

The exact weight resting over his heart.

And the strange sensation of having come home… without knowing he’d ever left.

"What is it about him?" Bob asked, eyes still closed. "There’s something in him."

She looked at him for a long time. Then answered, without raising her voice:

"He has what you lost… and what you’re still looking for."

Bob didn’t know what to say. He didn’t understand the phrase—But it hurt in his chest.Not like a wound.But like truth.

And without another word, he held the child with both hands.

As if, for once, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember. Because there was something in Eliott that didn’t need explanation.

Only to be felt.

Bob sat on the couch, staring out the window, lost in thought. He wasn’t thinking of anything specific. He heard the ticking of the wall clock. Suddenly, Eliott made a sound—a soft whimper, a near-cry.

Bob stood without thinking. Before she could say anything. Before even he understood what he was doing—his hands were already lifting the baby.

He held him naturally. Instinctively.He rocked him. Not like a rookie. Not clumsily.

He swayed side to side. Hummed something. A melody barely audible, old, broken… but real. He only stopped when his throat tightened.She looked at him, surprised.

"What were you humming?"

Bob stayed silent.

"I don’t know…"he answered. But his eyes held a shadow of doubt. As if maybe he did. As if it was on the tip of his tongue—but hurt too much to name.

She let him into what had once been their home. Everything felt unfamiliar. The walls. The photos. Even his own reflection.

But when he stepped into Eliott’s room, Bob paused.

Not because of the toys. Not because of the crib.But because of the smell of vanilla and baby powder in the air. A sweet, warm, everyday scent.

He went still. Suddenly, a fleeting image hit him: his hands buttoning a tiny white sweater. Chubby legs kicking hard. A short laugh. And his own voice saying, “Easy, champ. Almost done.”

The vision lasted less than a second.But it left his skin tingling.

"You okay?" she asked from the doorway.

He nodded. Looked at the room like he’d seen a ghost.

"Yeah… I think so."

But he wasn’t. Because something inside him was waking up.

She let him rest on the couch. Told him he could stay if he wanted. That Eliott had been restless at night.

At 3:17 a.m., a cry woke him. Not loud. Not frantic. A cry that split the soul. A cry with pauses. With waiting.

Bob got up barefoot, unsure why.When he reached the room, the crib was half empty—Eliott had rolled onto his back. He sobbed like he didn’t know where he was.Bob picked him up. And without realizing it, spoke:

"I’m coming, son… I’m coming."

The word “son” came out unfiltered.

When he realized what he’d said, he froze. Like he’d just confessed a crime—or witnessed a miracle.

She watched him from the hallway. Said nothing. And for the first time, he cried in silence. Not from sadness. But from something even more disarming:

His body remembering… What his mind still could not.

Sunlight slipped through the blinds, drawing golden lines on the floor. The room smelled of milk, warm wood, and a life that hadn’t given up.

Bob watched the world without speaking.

"Do you mind that I’m here?" he asked suddenly, not looking at her.She took a while to answer.

"No. It hurts more when you’re not."

He turned his head. Looked at her.

"I don’t understand what’s happening to me" he said honestly "With you. With him."

Eliott stirred in his sleep. A trembling sigh escaped him. Bob watched. His brow furrowed. He took a step. Then another. He knelt in front of them, slowly. He didn’t touch them. Just watched—As if afraid to break something sacred.

" When I hold him…" he began, his voice rough " I feel… whole. And at the same time, terrified. Like I’m holding something I already lost once. Like… I’ve already loved him before."

She looked at him—her soul in her eyes.

Bob looked back at her.

"And with you… it’s worse."

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

"It hurts not knowing who you are. But it hurts more when you walk away. Like something in me breaks, even if I don’t understand why. I don’t remember you, but… there’s something in you that calms me. That grounds me. Like… you’re my place."

Silence. Only Eliott, breathing deeply.

"Sometimes I dream" Bob adds. "Scattered dreams. Laughter. Small feet kicking at a bedsheet. The smell of coffee. A laugh... your laugh. I don’t know if they’re made up. But I wake up with a tight chest. With a strange feeling... like I’m searching for something I already have."

She slowly leans over and places Eliott in the crib, not fully letting go. When she turns back to Bob, he’s already looking at her. Directly. As if, finally, something had aligned.

"I don’t know if I’ll ever remember everything" he says quietly. "But I know this... this feeling I get when I’m here... it can’t be a lie. It can’t just be my imagination."

She kneels in front of him, at eye level. So close their breaths begin to mix.

"It’s not" she whispers. "You built it. I just held it together."

Bob lifts a hand. Brings it to her face, trembling. Not like someone acting on impulse—But like someone recognizing by instinct.

His thumb brushes her cheek. Then her lips.

"Did I love you?" he asks, voice tight with emotion.

"With everything you were. Even the parts that hurt. Even the parts that didn’t know how to love yet."

Bob closes his eyes.And without thinking, without remembering—he kisses her.

It’s clumsy. Slow. Heavy with fear and truth.

But when their lips meet, she knows. And so does he.

They know everything will be okay.

[tr4gictea]

Something to Fight For — Chapter 1

[Yandere!Villain!Class 1-A + Reader]

❥Masterlist

Tags: Slow Burn, Mentions of Violence

Including: Bakugo, Kirishima, Mina, Jiro & Kiyoko (Oc)

Word Count: 1.2k Words

[A/n]: If you would like to be on the tag list just comment on the post and ask to be on it :D

⟸ Prologue | Next Chapter (Coming Soon...) ⟹

You let out gasp of air as the black tar slowly melted off your body. The slimy substance shrunk back to the spot where it first landed and disappeared completely. You coughed out black chunks that landed on the ground with a splat. It took you a moment to catch your breath before glancing up at your surroundings. 

The shops that were once bright and full of life have disappeared. They’ve now been replaced by broken down shops — the windows of most places have been busted into, the road is now uneven with large cracks breaking up the ground. ‘What the hell happened?’

You press the middle button of your radio visor/headset, “Shoto are you there? Over… Sho? What’s going on, why is everything destroyed? Over.” In response you get nothing but static from the other line.

‘The communications tower must be broken or something…’ You think to yourself.

An uneasiness settles in your stomach as you lift yourself off the ground. Searching around for anyone in need of assistance you find nothing but rubble and trash. “Hello! Is anyone here?” You call out to a defining silence, the once busy street had turned so eerily quiet you would’ve thought you still had the slime in your ears. 

Stepping through a broken window — of what was a sweets bakery — you find the place trashed with the windows blowing in and the shelves empty. 

“Hello? Is anyone here?” You wait a beat but still get no response back. “I just wanna know what happened, I’m not here to fight or anything…“ Nothing.

You sigh and begin to make your way out when you hear the cracking of glass and a tiny gasp. Whipping your head around you catch a glimpse of a head ducking behind a counter. 

“Hello, is someone behind the counter…?” You hear shifting and a high pitched gasp of pain. ‘That sounded like a little girl’ You kneel down and soften your voice. “I’m a hero-in-training, here’s my license,” You say as you take out your hero license card and slide it the girls reach. A small hand appeared from the side and grabs the card. 

“I just woke up on the side of the street after I got knocked out from a villain attack, my partner has disappeared somewhere and I have-,”

“You're a hero?” The girl peaks her head out from the side of the counter. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a messy low ponytail. Her big blue eyes stare intently at you. “...and you're here to help?”

“Of course, I will never ignore anyone in need of help!” You state enthusiastically, she has fully come out from behind the counter and is cautiously walking towards you. Now that you can get a good look you notice that she’s the same girl that approached you and Todoroki during your patrol. But this time she is in less neater clothes — all her clothes are torn with dirt covering most of her body. But what concerns you the most is injuries littering her arm — a bunch of scraps and cut were on her right while her left hand had huge cut down the palm. 

“D-do you not recognise me?” Her voice quivers and gives you a hopeful smile. 

“I do! Are you the girl that asked for a picture?” 

Her face fell at your response, “No, you don't remember…” 

You tilt your head in confusion, “Wha-?”

“I was told by someone,” She interrupts you, “That I shouldn’t trust every person who comes by and says they're a hero. But, I trust you.” 

“Wise words from someone who I assume is a wise person,” The girl shifts uncomfortably and glances around the room. “Hey sweetheart? Can I patch up those injuries for you and if you don’t mind, can I ask you a few questions about what's happened here?”   

“Um, sure,” 

The girl, Kiyoko, answered every question you asked her but nothing seemed to make sense or line up with your timeline. But some things you did figure out is it’s been maybe one or two days since you’ve been in that goo, and that most heroes have either become villains or left the country, including the Hero’s Safety Commission.

You carefully tied the end of Kiyoko’s wound dressing as she continued talking. “I think the commission left after the villains killed the president.” 

A sudden coldness hits your core. “H-hawks is dead?”  

“Hawks? You mean the past #2 hero?” She asks genuinely confused. “What does he have to do wit-?”

BOOM! 

You put your guard up as you hear a sudden explosion outside, and pull Kiyoko close to you. She lets out a small shriek and her hands jump to grip your shirt. Attempting to soothe her, you rub her back and pull the shaking girl behind the register. 

She’s quietly sobbing into your shirt, scared out of her mind. “Shhh shhh, hey it’s okay, I got you.” 

Kiyoko pulled her head back and shook her head ‘no’, “N-no no, I-it’s hi-, i-it’s them, it’s them-m…” She kept stuttering out as her arm tried to pull you up into the back of the store.   

You take her hands and lock eyes with her. “Kiyoko. Who is ‘them’?”

Her eyes shift around in a hurry as she scans behind you until they stop. Her pupils dilate as she falls to the floor and presses herself up against a cabinet. You turn your head and — there they were, your friends.

“Hey, Kiyoko it’s okay I know those people,” You try to reassure her, “You’ll be alright, those are my friends, they’ll be able to help you.” However she didn’t get any calmer. 

“N-no. Not g-good.” In an instant she stood up and sprinted through the curtain and into the back of the shop. 

“Wait!” You hissed out, you sighed and turned your head to see if your classmates were still there. Standing in the middle of the street were five of your friends — Jiro, Sero, Mina, Kirishima and Katsuki. They were all wearing their hero costumes but you took notice on how badly beaten up they looked. Most of their costumes were covered in dirt or a red color — which you could only pray wasn’t blood. Their expressions seemed to match their outfits as it looked like they were out for blood. Everyone looked like they were starving for a fight. 

You stood up and leaned on the table, “What happened to you losers!” You jokingly call out to them. Then, all the sudden they pause, none moved even for a second. The air seemed to get thicker once you spoke and they slowly started turning their head to look at you. As they made eye contact with you, their faces seemed to darken, Katsuki’s more than the others. 

“Woah, why are you guys looking at me like that? Did I do something?” You say taken aback by their sudden hostility. Something in your stomach churns as you try to think of what you might have done. You chuckled nervously as Katsuki began slowly approaching you. “H-hey Kats… whatcha’ doing?”  Your legs start moving on their own as you back into the shop. 

All of a sudden he stops, “You have no right to wear their face…” Katsuki seethed through his teeth as he spoke. “...and mock us with their voice.” 

You both let the room get quiet. Too quiet.

Then he raised his arm and sent off an explosion straight to your head.

[A/n]: Sorry this is so short, I think the ao3 curse caught me and my cat got into an accident. I won't get into too much detail but he is still alive but he needs alot of attention. I will be posting at least once a week with much longer chapters :D

Also feel free to check me out on ao3 since I'm infected with the curse now ig.

REMEMBER TO SMASH THAT LIKE BUTTON OBLITERATE THAT FOLLOW BUTTON AND REQUEST FOR A SHOUT-OUT IN MY NEXT VIDEO 🗣🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥

More MHA/BHNA Stories *ੈ✩‧₊˚

[lara635kookie]

Rant on Jinu because his haters are not safe from me:

Okay, let's start with the accusations against him.

TW:Death, Betrayal.

He said "I only made a deal with Gwi-ma to get MYSELF out of that miserable life." But we don't know how the deal truly went. We see Gwi-ma saying Jinu is not good enough, and he can make him good enough. And that's it. We don't know exactly the terms of the deal. I think the most probable scenario is that he asked to leave poverty and misery and just thought his family was implied to be included, even though neither Jinu and Gwi-ma mentioned ut because they both thought it was "obvious". Jinu thought it was obvious his family was included, while Gwi-ma thought it was obvious he meant only Jinu, so Jinu probably hates himself for being naive and making his family go all the way to the castle, that I suppose It's far from the peasants areas, just so they couldn't come in with him at the end. Why would he do that if he knew they wouldn't be allowed in?

Yes, he made a mistake. But Rumi didn't hold this against him and it didn't change what she felt for him. Also, acting like it was just a simple mistake he made out of cruelty instead of a nuanced mistake he made by necessity, is wrong and just dumb.

Jinu was a peasant in the JOSEON dynasty of all times. The Emperor lived like God, while people like Jinu suffered every day. And we gotta point out the fact that the family doesn't have a father figure, which means Jinu had to provide for the three of them, likely his whole life, because we don't know when his father disappeared/died. And even if the father was there, he would put Jinu to work with him since childhood, so Jinu is working alone while his mom takes care of his little sister and the house. And I think the fact the father is missing really plays a lot here. The mom and the sister were in the same hardship as Jinu, but at the very least they were always together, and having each other's company probably prevented them from hearing Gwi-ma's voice and kept them grounded. Jinu was all alone. If he had a father working alongside him, maybe he would have resisted Gwi-ma because he would have him there to keep him sane and ease the pressure he felt on his shoulders on having his family depend on him. How much a father was missed in Jinu's life, in my view, is shown by that one bit when Gwi-ma goes:"I taught you well, Jinu." And Jinu just smiles proudly but then he looks off. I just headcanon he likes this type of validation from Gwi-ma, he likes when Gwi-ma acts proud of him, but at the same time he beats himself for it because he knows it's not real, and he tried not to feel happiness when Gwi-ma does it and Gwi-ma also uses this against him because he knows Jinu wanted a father to be present.

Anyway, the only thing to his name was an old bipa. It was probably the only thing he knew how to do, because in his conditions he probably didn't learn how to do anything else. So his only choice was leave to the streets with it to work or just wait for death to arrive either by starvation or the cold.

The human brain is rewired, programmed to survival. To do anything to survive. To in the face of danger prioritize life and try until the end to live and never waste any attempt to survive. Especially under extreme circunstances. Like the one Jinu was. What he did was wrong for sure, but let's put ourselves in his shoes. If death is knocking at our door wouldn't we desperately take ANY chance at all to survive? If given the opportunity to live wouldn't we take it without thinking at first about the consequences of saving our own lives? We're human beings after all. We are likely to make selfish mistakes in situations like this. The movie made it clear Jinu beats himself every day for 400 years because of what he did. He let his family down and condemned them to a terrible fate alone. He knows this. Sadly, Jinu's situation is the type of situation that would go wrong anyway. If Jinu didn't made a deal with Gwi-ma, nothing would change and him and his family would just die eventually of malnutrition. So it is a situation extreme enough to the point accepting Gwi-ma's offer is a temptation many would fall upon just like him.

Anyways, next. The Takedown scene.

"It was Jinu's ide–"

GIRL IT WAS ALL JINU'S IDEA. That's the whole point.

In-universe, without Jinu, we wouldn't even have a movie in the first place. Because it was also his idea to have a demon boy band. Gwi-ma would never think of a demon boy band, and would just keep sending demons, the girls would defeat them, and the honmoon would turn gold, Rumi's patterns would (probably) disappear and never be revealed. And that's it.

I'm sorry but Jinu is the one that moves the plot. He is the one that makes things HAPPEN. And that's one of the reasons why I want him back on the sequel so much, for him to keep doing that.

Yes, he exposed Rumi but he WAS going to help her after Free. After he didn't hear Gwi-ma's voice after the song ended. After he almost told her something else that we don't know what it is but instead says:"I... Can't wait to see you on that stage tomorrow." But some seem to forget the scene that happened right before the Idol Awards.

Gwi-ma immediately pushes Jinu back to the demon world, all the other demons looking at him, fearing for Jinu and feeling pity of him, sorry for him, because Gwi-ma probably made them watch the whole thing with Rumi to torture Jinu. To use him as an example that they can NEVER be free from him and what happens to those who think they can even THINK of trying to be free.

Gwi-ma, now stronger than ever and almost enveloping Jinu by his flames to kill him completely, first makes fun of him, then says that if he truly believed Rumi he would have told her the truth, then tells him to remember their deal and threats him saying instead of erasing his memories he can increase the voices in his head and ends by saying "Don't think you can escape what you are."

All of this is not only extremely painful, it makes Jinu lose the very little hope Rumi had restored in him. Because he spent 400 years without feeling hope and 400 years under Gwi-ma's control, Gwi-ma knew "all" it took to make him lose hope again was a few seconds of his manipulation and of course, his torturous threats. Not much as you can see (ironically).

After that, anyone in Jinu's place would be doing anything Gwi-ma wants from them to keep him without being upset with them too.

As I said, another mistake, but once again, Rumi is willing to forgive him. He says it was all a lie. She insists she knows it was real. He reveals he left his family. She still keeps insisting he can still fight his inner demon and be better.

Seriously, Rumi's mom did the same thing as her. Fell in love and had a daughter with a demon who probably made mistakes similar to the ones of Jinu. They were able to look past that and see that they could still be good people and their past mistakes didn't define them. Because not everything is black and white. They did bad things, but they did good things, too. At the end of the day, Rumi would hate this mischaracterization of Jinu, the guy who she is CLEARLY in love with and who is EVIDENTLY in love with her too.

The point here is that you can dislike Jinu for whatever reason you'd like. You can dislike Rujinu and can criticize it and ship something else (or nothing at all) if you want (at the anti tag), but spreading hate without considering the many things Jinu's character arc involves is incredibly stupid, reductive and completely misses the point of the message of hope the film wanted to pass. That even if you think you are hopeless because of your past mistakes, like Jinu did, you can still find hope. Someone who makes you believe it and ignites that spark in you. Someone that gives you hope, and you give them hope too.

[deezee112]

The ending 7 : The Closet and the Cracks

Masterlist | Ending 6 | Ending 8

Yandere!Platonic!Ruggie Bucchi x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : I’m back! I might not be fully back to regular updates yet, but I’m here! Sorry for disappearing for so long. My university’s been holding a festival, and I signed up to help out. In two weeks, I’ll also be performing in a play, so I’ve been focusing on rehearsals.

Sorry for rambling on for so long now, let’s get back to reading!

Warning : dark psychological themes , including manipulation , emotional neglect , physical violence, blood, injury , and long-term disability.

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

" My name is Ruggie. " he said with a wide, fanged smile. “ Nice to meet ya, y/n. From now on, you and me? We’re gonna be partners in crime, heh. ”

You remembered that moment so clearly. The day he stepped into your life he looked like the kind of person your mother warned you about not because he was obviously dangerous, but because he was too friendly. Too easy with words. Too casual with lies.

But you were small. You were lonely. You didn’t know better.

You laughed when he first said it. “ Partners in crime? ”

He smirked and leaned closer, his tan hand holding out a coin he’d clearly plucked from someone else’s pocket.

“ Stick with me, y/n. You’ll never go hungry! ”

And for a while…that seemed like a good thing.

Ruggie helped you with math. With history. Even carried your schoolbag sometimes when your arms were tired. He always knew where the good snacks were and where the best vending machines gave out extra.

He’d sneak into your room through the window and toss you a candy bar like it was a treasure.

“ Don’t tell your folks I came in. ” he’d wink, then sit beside your desk, solving your equations like it was a game. “ What would you do without me? ”

“ I’d probably flunk math. ”

He’d grin at that, all teeth and pride. “ You got that right. ”

But then he started…asking you to do things.

“ Hey, y/n. See your mom’s purse on the counter? Bet she won’t notice a few bills gone. Just twenty bucks. We’ll split it, kay? ”

You froze. “ But…but that’s stealing...? ”

“ Nahhh, it’s just borrowing. She won’t miss it. And c’mon, you owe me, right? After all that help I gave you? ”

You hesitated. You shouldn’t have. You knew that. But you didn’t want to lose him not this only friend who laughed with you, who taught you things no one else did. So you did it.

And he clapped for you.

“ That’s my girl. ”

After that, it became normal.

Stealing coins from your classmates. Taking extra food from the cafeteria. Even hiding snacks in your coat during store runs. Ruggie always had a plan. And when you were scared, he’d just ruffle your hair.

“ No one's gonna catch you if you’re careful. And you’re smart, y/n. That’s why I like you. ”

But it didn’t feel like liking.

Sometimes, when you lost something, you’d find it later in his pocket. When you confronted him, he just chuckled.

“ You were getting too careless. I had to teach you a lesson. ”

It wasn't cute. It wasn’t funny. But you still stayed.

You told yourself he cared. You told yourself he was all you had.

You didn’t know how long you’d been lying on the kitchen floor.

Everything had gone too fast.

First, there was the hunger in his eyes.

Then, the shouting.

The pain.

The impact.

And then…nothing.

Not real nothing. Not the peaceful kind. But the kind that tasted like metal and smelled like your mother’s cooking oil spilled across the tile.

You blinked, your vision swimming in red. Something inside your chest was screaming, but you couldn’t open your mouth. Your body had gone limp. Your limbs didn’t want to listen anymore. Not after what he did.

He bit you.

You didn’t even understand it at first.

You’d screamed something, maybe a plea. You didn’t even remember what.

And he’d snapped.

Like a wolf that hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Like a wild thing.

His teeth his teeth sank into your shoulder before you could push him away.

He wasn’t himself anymore.

He wasn’t Ruggie.

He wasn’t the boy who did your homework.

He wasn’t the one who snuck you ice cream at midnight.

He was a shadow. A starved, shaking shadow who was too far gone.

And when he realized what he’d done…

“ Oh no. No no no no— ” Blood dripped down his fingers. Your blood. He stared at it like it wasn’t real. Like it had been some dream he could wake up from.

“ y/n…I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to… ”

You tried to crawl.

He caught you.

You screamed.

“ I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I just—don’t scream, please don’t scream—! ”

Your fingers clawed at the floor. You were shaking. He was crying now muttering, whimpering.

And then, he dragged you to the hallway closet.

The world became dark. Cramped. Stuffy.

You were wedged between cleaning supplies, an old vacuum, and forgotten blankets.

You couldn’t move.

“ Shhh…shhh…just stay here, okay? Just for a little while.. ” he whispered.

His hands trembled as he tucked a blanket around your broken body. As if warmth would make up for what he’d done. As if you weren’t bleeding, as if your bones weren’t screaming, as if your mind wasn’t slipping into something numb and cold.

He closed the door.

You heard him breathing on the other side.

Then…footsteps.

Then…silence.

Your father found you hours later.

He had come home, calling your name, voice getting sharper with each unanswered shout.

Then…the blood.

Smears of it, leading from the kitchen.

To the hall.

To the closet.

The door creaked open. You blinked at the sudden light.

His scream echoed through the house. “ Y/N?! OH MY GOD—Y/N!! ”

He scooped you into his arms, shouting again, but this time for your mother, for the car, for anyone to help.

You only remember the sirens after that. The cold of the hospital and the white, white walls.

They told you later that your shoulder had been shattered, and your tendons damaged beyond repair. The bite wound had cut deep, and the impact from hitting the counter had fractured your skull.

But what really silenced you wasn’t the pain.

It was the realization.

He had locked you in a closet to hide you like a broken toy and you were supposed to be his partner in crime.

Weeks passed. You stayed in the hospital, wrapped in white sheets like a ghost. You couldn’t move your arms properly anymore. Could barely lift your head without assistance.

You could blink. You could cry.

But you couldn’t fight. Not anymore.

And then…he came.

“ y/n…? ”

He looked different. Not dirty or wild anymore. He’d scrubbed himself raw, as if trying to wash off what he did.

Still, his eyes were the same guilt. Desperation and something else. Possessiveness.

You blinked.

He took a step forward. “ Hey…it’s me. Ruggie. ”

Silence.

He knelt by your bed. You could feel the tremble in his hands as he reached out, but stopped short from touching you.

“ I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so…so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just— ”

Hungry?

Desperate?

Insane?

You didn’t know. You didn’t care anymore.

You wanted him to leave.

But your lips couldn’t move.

Your voice had been swallowed by the trauma.

He looked at your limp body, at the machines keeping track of your vitals. “ You’re gonna get better. Right? You have to… ”

You wanted to scream at him.

Better???????

You would never move the same way again. You would never trust the same way again.

“ I… I’ll never let that happen again. I swear it, y/n. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll— ” He choked. “ Please don’t look at me like that... ”

But you weren’t looking.

Your eyes just stared, wide, empty, unfocused.

He started crying. Quiet at first. Then louder. He clung to the bed, like a child begging for forgiveness.

“ I didn’t want this...I just wanted to stay with you. I just wanted us to be together.. ”

You locked me in a closet.

You wanted to say that.

But all that came was the beeping of the monitor. Ruggie leaned forward, tears dripping onto your blanket.

“ Please forgive me. Please don’t leave me… ” His voice cracked. “ I won’t ever hurt you again! ”

But it was too late.

He already had.

[ursidanger]

Recent sketch of their body types + Whitney's fur markings

[heffrondriving]

Do you still like big time rush or has James ruined them for you?

i have absolutely no idea how long ago this was from but like. y'all what even is this offhand ask lmao ( ; ⚆ _ ⚆ )

but alright screw it, just to set the record straight: i loved Big Time Rush lots and lots, that much is obvious. the nick show itself was such an integral part of my childhood, and i absolutely have no regrets about rediscovering the band last 2020 and diving in headfirst right into the deep end *Hot Summer by Heffron Drive starts blasting out* of their music and inevitably joining the fandom. i'm especially forever thankful for all the interesting experiences and fun projects and amazing friends i've made along the way, so i'm sincerely always going to have a certain fondness for BTR in the deepest crevices of my vv heart and soul.....

although yes, certainly *that* whole situation and other such related unfortunate controversies had kinda soured it to the point where i got uncomfortable calling myself a rusher—but that ultimately wasn't what made me fall out, it was just plain 'ol ✨burnout✨ idk keeping up with the fandom just got a little bit too hectic and way too toxic for me, so i moved on to other things better for my peace of mind. anyway, i'm mostly into cool J-pop stuff and ofc my most beloved svensk pojkband FO&O nowadays (also for language-learning purposes hehe :^D) and tbh these have been so incredibly wonderful and healing for me.....but i confess, i still kinda miss BTR and check in on them from time to time. hell, i even have a whooole bunch of chaotic BTR ocs that casually live rent-free in my mind now and forever and i'm constantly tempted to return to this rotting blog just so I can endlessly infodump lore abt them but i'm Annoying™ and who'd want that anyway soooo ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

so yes, i do love Big Time Rush. despite everything, i still like the show and the music, i like all the silly wacky unhinged creations and nostalgic memories i have of it, i like the fandom generally and seeing notifs still pop up on this inactive blog as the ever-faithful rushers continue to thrive and be inspired by the band and its legacy (shoutout to all the new-wave tumblrushers hehe i see u guys much love and hugs and i hope y'all keep up all the fun vibes and creativity here mwah xoxo (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡), and i really don't wanna allow anything to ruin all those good feelings i got from them, even if that means being critical and letting go of certain aspects. i don't have to love everything about it, really. just enough for me is hopefully enough ❤️‍🩹

and now, the musical journey continues...?

(p.s. #1: UNRELATED-ISH GIF BUT ALSO I PROMISE THIS GIF IS RELEVANT BC HE'S TECHNICALLY ONE OF MY BTR OCS SO LIKE THAT COUNTS RIGHT??? (⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠˙̫̮⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠))

(p.s. #2: BTR actually dropped by our country in their world tour last October 2024,,, too little, too late :"))) and apparently there was a whole fucking drama that went down abt it too??? anubayan nakakahiya gagi ahshdjsjdk)

[zdechlyryba]

an edek themed collage 🪲

[suspendingtime]

[yukinyaminyato]

next time that guy smiles at me im gonna punch him in the face.

[furiousfinnstan]

URGENT!!!Help Abdul Salam Al-Anqar and his family get through this war in Gaza!!!

(URGENT) THEY ARE AT €3,445 OUT OF €50,000 GOAL

I was asked by @nader5555 to make this, if u cannot donate please please share this post. Copy pasted from a message i was sent:

"Only a Few Hours Left Before We Enter Our First Year of War, Genocide, Starvation, and Displacement A Final Plea from the Heart of Hell: Save Us Before Hope Dies 💔🔥 I am Abdel Salam, and I have nothing left but words written by a trembling hand ✍️. The war has not only destroyed our lives; it has taken everything from us. Our home, which was once our refuge, is now a pile of rubble 🏚️.

My car, my only source of livelihood, was destroyed in a sudden strike 🚗, and the work that sustained us is now a distant memory 💼. Today, I live in an endless nightmare. Under a sun that burns everything in its path 🌞🔥, my family and I sit in a worn-out tent, a tent that shields us neither from the summer heat nor the winter cold ❄️. Insects 🦟 invade the place, diseases consume our bodies 🩺, and my younger siblings cry from hunger and thirst 🍞💧. We have no clean water or a crumb of bread to ease our hunger. Each passing day deepens the weight of this hell we live in.

My Daughter Eman is Dying from Malnutrition 😨 My daughter Eman suffers from malnutrition; I have nothing to feed or treat her with. The deterioration of her health is killing me slowly. Every glance in her eyes, every pain she endures, crushes my heart 💔. How can I explain to her that what was once our hope has now turned into nothing but a mirage? The Night Only Adds to Our Pain 🌙 The night does not bring us rest; it only adds to our pain. We sleep on hard ground, feeling the cold in every bone of our bodies 🥶, with nothing but pieces of cardboard 📦 to cover us. My wife Aya cries in silence 🥺 as she watches our daughter’s future fade before her eyes. My mother Eman suffers from illness and needs urgent medical care 🩺💊.

My Father Ahmed is Sick with Cancer and Needs Emergency Treatment My father Ahmed, who is sick with cancer, needs emergency treatment outside Gaza, and the cost of his treatment is at least $10,000, not including accommodation. As he suffers from severe pain, I cannot provide the treatment he needs due to our dire situation.

My Siblings Are in Constant Suffering ⚰️ My brother Omar was unable to continue his studies due to the situation. My brother Nader could not take his high school exams, and my younger brother Mohammad suffers from brittle bones and needs treatment we cannot afford. Every day we live brings us one step closer to the end. Death surrounds us from every side: if not from hunger 🍽️, then from illness 🦠. And if not from illness, then from the despair that devours our souls. Where is Humanity? Where is the World? 🌍💔 We want to leave the devastated Gaza Strip to escape the machinery of destruction and killing and the severity of hunger and poverty. The cost of travel for each person is $5,000, and we are a family of seven members, bringing the total cost to $35,000.

Where are the compassionate hearts? Are you waiting for us to disappear into the depths of this suffering? Are you waiting until death takes us before you act? We are drowning, and we don’t have enough strength to scream for help 🆘. Will you let this cry go unanswered? 😭 Your donation today is our last thread of hope. With the little support I received, I was able to buy a simple phone 📱 to reach out to you. But the bitter truth is that what I and my family need is much greater. We are not asking for much; just enough to save our lives from this hell 🔥. Every donation, no matter how small, could be the difference between life and death for us 👐. Don’t Let Us Disappear in the Darkness of Suffering 🌑 Don’t let our story end here. Be the light that guides us to salvation 🕯️✨.

With every tear, with every pain, I write this final plea to you, Abdel Salam."

taglist

@butchniqabi @xinakwans

@batekush

@appsa

@nerdyqueerr

@butchsunsetshimmer

@biconicfinn @stopmotionguy

@t4tvampireisms

@strangeauthor

@bryoria @shesnake

@legallybrunettedotcom

@lautakwah @sovietunion

@neechees @evillesbianvillain @antibioware

@akajustmerry @dizzymoods

@ree-duh @neptunerings

@explosionshark

@heritageposts

@ibtisams

@schoolteacher

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[esleep]

i actually do kinda like delivering groceries on the side because it gives me such a unique cross-section of the community. i never know whose groceries im shopping for until i finish the delivery and see them/their home and it's like it adds more detail to the picture of who they are. the baby supplies going to the apartment that i know for a fact is one bedroom (they'll be moving soon - i bet they're apartment hunting, i hope they find a place). the new cat litter box, bowl, and kitten food going to the house covered in "i <3 my dog" paraphernalia (a kitten definitely showed up on the porch recently and made itself at home). the fairly healthy boring grocery order that includes an incongruous tub of candy-filled ice cream going to the home of an elderly woman with toddler toys in the yard (it's clearly for her grandkids, whom she sees often).

shopping for someone else's groceries is a fairly intimate thing. i've bought condoms and pregnancy tests, allergy medicine and nyquil, baby benadryl and teething gel, a huge pile of veggies paired with an equally huge pile of junk food, tampons and shampoo and closet organizers and ant traps and deodorizing shoe inserts and a million other little things that tell a million different stories in their endless combinations. one time someone had me buy one single green bean. i messaged them to confirm that's actually what they wanted, and they said yes - neither of them liked green beans very much, but they had a baby they were introducing to solid foods, and they wanted to let him try one to see if he liked them. another time i had someone request 50 fresh roma tomatoes - not for a restaurant, but for a person in an apartment. the kitchen behind them smelled like basil and garlic when they opened the door. another time i brought groceries to three elderly blind women who share a house. that was one of the few times i have ever broken my rule and gone inside a place i've delivered to, because they asked if i could place the grocery bags in a specific location in the kitchen for them to work on unloading and there was no way i was going to refuse helping.

i gripe about the poor tippers, but people can also be incredibly kind. one time i took shelter from a sudden vicious hailstorm inside an older lady's home in a trailer park, while i was in the middle of delivering her groceries. we both huddled just inside the door, watching in shock as golf-ball-sized hail swept through for about five minutes and then disappeared. she handed me an extra $10 bill on my way out the door.

when covid was at its deadliest, people would leave extra (often lysol-scented) cash tips and thank-you notes for me taped to the door or partially under the mat. i especially loved the clearly kid-drawn thank you notes with marker renderings of blobby people in masks, or trees, or rainbows. in summer of 2020 i delivered to a nice older couple who lived outside of town in the hills, and they insisted i take a huge double handful of extra disposable gloves and masks to wear while shopping - those were hard to find in stores at the time, but they wanted me to have some of their supply and wouldn't take no for an answer.

anyway. all this to say people are mostly good, or at least trying to be, despite my complaints.

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

how i manifested my dream life with extremely hard circumstances + how you can too ♡

Note: this is not my post and it's blushydior's post that everyone been searching for, so i thought why not making it as a post,and blushy if you see this, please don't kill me i know you said that you'll change your post but you disappeared After that.

♡ table of contents:

1. the importance of making this post

2.my take on manifestation + the 3D

3. HOW I DID IT - my journey in 4 phases i went through that include my mindset changes up to the moment i got my desires 

4. your new rules & routine from this moment on

5. a note from me!

6. frequently asked questions: separated into topics regarding the 3D, self concept + miscellaneous questions to have you leaving this post stress free.

now let’s get into it. read every bit of this post “ ~ ୨୧ ♡ ·

I. THE IMPORTANCE OF MAKING THIS POST

i’ve been through it all. you can read my experiences from old life in the “my life before” section of my success story + here, here, here and here. this is my success story on how the law of assumption has changed my life. as you can see from the “how” section of the post, i had purposely left it short, sweet and simple to avoid people complicating the simplicity of the law of assumption. but as time went on, anons and other blogs made me realize that since people do tend to over-complicate the law, the need i felt to make an in-depth post on how i personally manifested through my hard circumstances grew strong.

my blog often highlights topics that pertain to mental health, so i want to make sure those who find themselves in the same situations as i once were feel seen, heard and loved. you are all so powerful, amazing and hold so much potential more than you know. with this post, i hope i am able to help you realize that fact to the best of my abilities.

𝐈𝐈. MY TAKE ON MANIFESTATION + THE 3D

something that you’ll see me say all the time is: “life is a blank canvas.” that’s because it truly is.

remember that you are working with the law of assumption. what you assume to be true, is true. nothing is set in stone unless you say it is. things have meaning only if you assign it one.

you are the sole creator of your life. you are the artist that controls the brush/pen, you control what goes on and off of this very malleable canvas we call life. you don’t have to do anything. therefore,

you don’t have to: affirm 24/7, be specific, word your affirmations correctly, listen to subliminals, ignore the 3D, be positive all the time, meditate, have high vibrations, script, visualize, do sats or lullaby, go into the void, affirm in the present tense, avoid the mirror, etc.

you can literally say a random word like “bonk” and if saying it means you have all your desires or money is constantly filling your bank account, then that’s what will happen!

“but what if my subconscious doesn’t know what it means?” your subconscious mind is literally you. it’s not some stranger separate from you. if you want a scene to play out a certain way on a specific date or a romantic partner with all the most perfect qualities even if you can’t name it all at the top of your head, your subconscious has your back with the details! you have your own back. don’t worry.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO IGNORE THE 3D.

read that again and again and again and again and-if your circumstances are quite literally in your face, how can you turn the other way and ignore it? you could if you wanted but you’ll only be doing more harm and we don’t want that, right?

“so then what do i do?” you KNOW it’s going to change. it’s challenging when you don’t fully believe the law to know it’s going to change, so for a start, tell yourself that this is not the end. why? because the moment you had a desire and claimed it as yours, it has already been set stone in the 4D so the 3D has no choice but to reflect it. this is your movie, you KNOW this is not the end. you are director and star of this movie! you control how it’s going to play out.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. HOW I DID IT - The 4 Phases (more so, 3)

PHASE 1:

i found out about manifestation from tiktok. from there i have tried scripting, law of attraction and had taken a liking into the craft. i tried it all until i found out about the law of assumption, sammy ingram and finally, tumblr.

PHASE 2:

upon finding out about loassumption tumblr, i had learned more and more about the law but as time went on, i had realized i had never really fully tried to apply the law. the idea just didn’t come about to apply it. as many others, i had overconsumed information, always wondering if i was doing it right, questioning the 3D,

so i took a break. upon discharge, i realized many things and decided to spend an extended amount of time alone, away from social media. i’m someone who values alone time as long as if it’s spent wisely.

during this time away from tumblr and sns platforms in general, constantly surrounded by other people’s takes, information, and opinions, i had learned so much about the law of assumption on my own! i went into the law of assumption with a fresh mind, actually applying the knowledge and overtime of affirming and persisting, i ACTUALLY understood the meaning behind “creation is finished. it is done.”

i’m advising you to step away from social media (that on it’s own has negative impacts) and be alone with your thoughts. i know your thoughts haven’t had it’s time to be alone because you’re most likely constantly seeking information to help you. and i don’t blame you. it’s just that, you are always bombarded by thoughts that aren’t your own, you barely give some time to yourself to think for yourself!

and if you can’t help but be on tumblr for other reasons than loassumption, unfollow blogs for the time being, scroll past informational posts to avoid second guessing your application. tell yourself that

YOU ARE DOING EVERYTHING RIGHT!

PHASE 3:

when it was time to apply the law, i simplified it. you choose what you desire, you affirm from your desire and persist. okay! got it. so that’s what i did. i affirmed whenever i thought about my desire, i kept saying that it is done! so in phase 2, i mentioned how i realized how creation was ACTUALLY done, right? before deciding to apply the law, i kept seeing posts saying that but i didn’t really fully understand it until the realization hit me during my time away from social media. (see? i love alone time. solitude is my bff) — here’s my breakdown for you:

once you decide a desire is yours to claim, THE SECOND you affirm that, in your head, imagination, your 4D, it is ALREADY yours. therefore, it has no choice to become physical reality. (this is why your subconscious only needs to hear things once in order for it to conform!)

it will always be yours for as long as you sustain that assumption (persist), it is yours! no matter what.

this is the meaning of “it is done.” it’s like telling a chef what dish you want, once they know what you want, they’ve got you covered. except that this chef is you. you know the details of your desire, you declare it’s going to conform instantly so why are you worrying? there is no need to worry.

informational post on the 4D + 3D here:

❝ If you judge after appearances, you will continue to be enslaved by the evidence of your senses. To break this hypnotic spell of the senses you are told, "Go within and shut the door,” The door of the senses must be tightly shut before your new claim can be honored .Instead of fighting against the evidence of the senses you claim yourself to be that which you desire to be. As your attention is placed on this claim, the doors of the senses automatically close against your former master (that which you were conscious of being). As you become lost in the feeling of being (that which you are now claiming to be true of yourself) the doors of the senses once more open, revealing your world to be the perfect expression of that which you are conscious of being. ❞

i kept time away from social media and being persistent really helped me be aware of my thoughts.

persistence has helped me:

be aware of thoughts that i wouldn’t have been able to catch before. for example, i was declaring that i have all of my desires and creation was done, but i found myself affirming “okay but where is it?” — this made me realize i was questioning my desires in my 3D even though i knew it was done in the 4D. (you don’t have to do this, you can imply your 3D conforms fast with whatever affs)

flip and interrupt my intrusive thoughts faster and faster the more i persisted. i hated my intrusive thoughts so much. like it was so annoying and hurtful. it was filled with replaying past scenarios that happened to me, things i wished had played out differently, just people who absolutely did not deserve the right to be occupying my mind and space! so i was grateful to learn that with persistence, i started to have less and less of those.

(see!! mental diet, persistence!! <3 this is how habits form and strengthen duhh. remember not to abandon common sense for the law)

AND THEN, PHASE 4:

i had entered sabbath, the state of the wish fulfilled, calm and relaxation that my desire has already manifested and there wasn’t nothing left for me to do other than persist. after so much persisting and saturating my mind with my affirmations, i reached being peace with my desires. i’m really glad i persisted. see how after persistence of assumptions, though false, will harden into fact? see how even your affirmations would feel “fake” at first but will soon feel natural to you? this means that i wasn’t questioning where it was, how long it was taking, etc. but this doesn’t mean i was ignoring my 3D. i saw it all but i knew it was going to change BECAUSE i felt peace in my inevitable desires.

then, i received my desires.

❝ I couldn’t possibly be worried about anything if I really believe that imagining creates reality. ❞

❝ When I speak of feeling I do not mean emotion, but acceptance of the fact that the desire is fulfilled. Feeling grateful, fulfilled, or thankful, it is easy to say, “Thank You,” “Isn’t it wonderful!” or “It is finished.” When you get into the state of thankfulness, you can either awaken knowing it is done, or fall asleep in the feeling of the wish fulfilled. ❞

𝐈𝐕. YOUR NEW RULES & ROUTINE

☆┆YOUR 3 NEW RULES ARE:

1, you have all your desires:

i have all of my desires.

creation is finished. it is done.

2. you manifest quickly and easily:

manifesting is always so easy and instant for me.

i always manifest within 2 days or less, the 3D conforms instantly.

the 3D instantly reflect my 4D.

the physical reality instantly reflects my 4D/imaginative reality.

3. you are okay because nothing can stop you from getting the inevitable:

everything is going to be okay because creation is done.

i am always aware of my thoughts. nothing can stop/get in the way of my desires.

no amount of intrusive thoughts, events and opinions of others have the power to stop my manifestations.

✉️: choose one affirmation from each list or make one of your own that makes you feel comfortable.

☆┆ROUTINE:

affirm on loop as an act of saturating your mind whenever you think of your desire until you feel satisfied,

in the morning, after you wake up: saturate your mind with affs.

read the manifesting vaunt below everyday (whenever you feel like it) — read it over and over again until you feel confident then go about your day!!

at night, before you sleep, affirm this:

“i kept all my thoughts in check today. i didn’t waver once. my mind is completely saturated with the new story.”

optional tip: if you want to saturate your mind even more as a start, you can set reminders with sticky notes around your space, have affs on your phone lock screen or wear a bracelet.

✉️ NOTE: soon enough, your mind will be saturated and you won’t need to do this anymore. this is just a start for those who battle intrusive thoughts!

let yourself feel any emotions that may come up because of your hard circumstances then once it’s out of your system, affirm your rules, especially rule #3!

do not consume any loassumption information if you know it will only cause you to second guess your ability. if you have the urge to ask a blog a question, try to make sense of what they will say and answer it yourself.

in times of doubt, remember that life is a blank canvas. your desire is set in stone, so your only task is to persist.

REASSURANCE VAUNT

creation is ACTUALLY finished. it is done. the second i claimed my desires as mine, it has already manifested itself in the 4D so it has no choice to present itself in the 3D! all i have to do is affirm and persist. i always have unwavering faith in my manifesting abilities and the law. i never fail. i am successful at every single thing i do. manifesting is so effortless. no amount of doubt, worry, fear, anxiety, intrusive thoughts or events can ever, and i mean EVER stop my manifestations. why? because i said so. this is MY life. i make the rules. so if i say i manifest easily, the 3D conforms instantly and that i have all of my desires, then it is a FACT. i’m literally unstoppable. everything i want is inevitable. my only task is to persist, sit back and relax as the 3D reflects my 4D. it all happens so fast, but what else do you expect from a master manifester like me?

SOMETHING TO NOTE:

most of the time, people think affirming on loop is saying it like a robot but what you don’t realize is that you’re affirming as if you’re reading a book. it’s not filled with enthusiasm but it’s not exactly monotone either. stop overthinking it. it’s like the voice you’re reading this post with. correct?

again, soon enough, your affirmations will feel natural and you won’t feel the need to affirm constantly. the routine above was given for those who battle intrusive thoughts, making your affirmations dominate to the point where you don’t waver.

QUOTES on STATES:

❝ I paid thirty dollars for my first suit. Today a suit will cost me $200.00, but regardless of the cost, when the suit is new I am aware of it. But let me wear it long enough for it to feel natural and I will no longer be conscious of it. The same is true for a state. You may desire the state of fame. If you will think you are famous and remain conscious of the state long enough to make it natural, as the thoughts flow from you they become a natural part of your body of beliefs, and the world will proclaim your fame. ❞

❝ I urge you to use your own wonderful creative power and deliberately move into the state of your choice. Make it now by occupying the state long enough so that it feels natural. Haven’t you had a suit of clothes that felt so new you were conscious of them every moment? I know when I bought my first suit I walked down Fifth Avenue thinking everyone I passed knew my suit was new. People passing paid no attention to me, but I was so aware, so conscious of my new suit. That’s exactly that happens when you move into a new state. If the state of affluence is new, you think everyone knows it, but no one knows or cares whether you are rich or poor, so walk in the state until it becomes natural. The moment the feeling is natural, wealth is yours! ❞

𝐕. ENDING NOTE

i love you. read that again. you can do it. read that again. i am so so so so proud of you. read that again! you are so strong, you have SOO much potential and power. it’s time for you to tap into it, angel. stop making excuses. stop telling yourself you can’t do it. stop the nonsense! you’ve dealt with your hard circumstances long enough, it’s time for you to turn to the person who can make that change (you) and make it happen. i’m really sorry you have to go through what you did. you certainly do not deserve the unkind treatment. give yourself a hug and tell yourself that this. is. it. you’re going to make the change. you know it and i do too. it’s possible. nothing is impossible for the person who believes! keep the faith in yourself. nothing can stop you.

it’s like those movies where the mc finds out they hold so much power. they doubt it because of the life they’ve had so far but once they give it a shot, they become the most powerful hero ever. you are that hero!!!

i love you and i am, again, giving you the biggestttt hug ever.

now, with that being said, @blushydior​ will no longer be taking asks regarding this topic. i’ve cleared most of the questions that could ever arise. you don’t need my guidance anymore after this post! im seeing you off now. i love you. stay safe. know that you’re loved and hold the power to change your life.

— kisses from bambi ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

ps. make sure you clicked the words that have links! <3 (the links are missing)

𝐕𝐈. FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

Something you wish you could’ve told yourself before you manifested it all to make things easier for anyone struggling:

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF.

you guys are beating yourself up for something so simple. take a step back and realize that. you’re already dealing with such hard circumstances, so why are you literally degrading yourself for something so within your power and reach? tell yourself everything is going to be okay. you’re always doing your best. you deserve the WORLD.

I could write a whole novel, combine all the posts on tumblr teaching the law of assumption, and every helpful ask out there but at the end of the day, YOU are the only person who could change your life. YOU make the call. turn every doubtful question to a positive one, when in doubt, turn inwards toward the 4D and know that it is real. it is done the second you affirmed it so.

SPEND TIME ALONE.

i can NOT stress this enough. i didn’t include the details of my time alone in phase 2 for nothing. you’ll see that you can answer your own questions. you’ll catch the thoughts you missed because you have always been so adamant on getting answers to questions you already knew. take a deep breathe and stay firm.

SEE WHAT’LL HAPPEN IF YOU DON’T GIVE UP.

What did you affirm to get your dream life?

basically my affirmations i gave above and these. all i used were blanket affirmations.

What does persisting mean to you? What does persisting really feel like? Is it just like a mental diet? or what?

“persisting is sticking to what you want / the end no matter what you’re shown, told, and what you experience + picking yourself up after letting any negative emotions & thoughts pass by.” — blushydior from this ask here (sadly the link is missing:()

+ keeping your thoughts in line of the same category. to word this in a different way, i can affirm so many affirmations just as long as they mean the same thing to me!

“it also is a mental diet. we’re always persisting in something. it’s just a matter of what you’re persisting in. you either persist in your desire or negative/non-beneficial thought 24/7.”

“in your post about how you changed your life, you said you just affirmed and persisted. but from your other posts it seems like you read neville goddard books. so did you just affirm or did you do imaginal acts too? i get confused when people say “just affirm and persist” cause neville never said that.” (original ask here) (note from Eli: the link is missing).

“yes, i read his books and sometimes i would do imaginal acts but i would only do that bc it helped me get by my circumstances, yk? like if i was overwhelmed i would just daydream lol. its like how i read books to escape to another world. but i would say, affirming and persisting was what i focused more on.

i just used what worked for me and used his quotes as a reminder of the power of man. i didn’t want to bound myself to one’s teaching constantly worrying if im doing it “right” or not so instead, i went back to his quotes that consisted of telling me to persist, look inwards, finding confirmation in my imagination, etc whenever i needed a pick me up.

but correct me if i’m wrong, i’m pretty sure many of the success stories he shared consisted of people simply decreeing their desires and feeling the wish fulfilled simply by repetition and acceptance of their assumption.”

What is saturating your mind?

read about it here (the link is missing, but Basically it is repeating an affirmation every minute or hour until you feel fulfilled)

Do we have to believe our affirmations? Did you ever doubt the law in the process?

no, i did not believe my affirmations and YES of course i doubted the law but i kept persisting either way because what could i lose? and here i am.

Did you just affirm, persist, maintain a mental diet and that’s it? No SATS, going to the void, lullaby, repeating affirmations? Did you just got it sleep?

just affirming and persisting. sure, the occasional lullaby, i usually affirmed for 10 seconds max before i gave up. i couldn’t sleep without imagining some romantic scenario LOL #bambiexposed

How to deal with manipulation and narcissism?

remind yourself that you’re in advantage because you know about the law of assumption. life is a dream, you can literally have whatever you want just by affirming. if you know that, why allow yourself succumb to other people’s thoughts and beliefs? i couldn’t allow other people’s thoughts ruin my chance of living my dream life. the thought of it alone gave me the worst feeling.

How did you tackle the feelings of having no hope? + After being in the victim state for so long what did you do to get yourself out and actually stay out?

i persisted on loop whenever i doubted the law. i reminded myself that it doesn’t hurt to just be quiet, affirm and persist to live my dream life. just do it. you gain nothing from turning back to your old habits. see what’ll happen if you don’t give up. ❝ Do you always turn to your imagination and, no matter what happens, do you remain faithful to the state imagined? If you do, you have passed the test. But if every little rumor, doubt, or fear can move you around like a pawn on a chessboard, then you are not keeping the faith! ❞ ❝ Objects seem so independent of our perception of them that we incline to forget that they owe their origin to imagination.❞

What was the timeframe of when you got your desires?

about a week after deciding to be strict with self discipline, mind you, i was dealing with hard circumstances and intrusive thoughts for years. within this time span, i had entered sabbath so i immediately got my desires.

How did you kept a positive mindset when it looked like there was no movement?

refer back to phase 3

What was your affirming routine?

AT FIRST, when i started to get sick of overconsumption and not getting my desires, i knew my mind wasn’t saturated/my desires were not my dominant thoughts. so, i decided to be strict with myself. i reminded myself with pieces of paper in my room that said: ❝ PERSIST. new story only!❞ ❝ AFFIRM!❞

❝ 1.) the 3D conforms instantly.

2.) AFFIRM THE DESIRED

3.) BE LOT.❞

and taped them on the wall infront of my bed & one on my door so i can see it before i head out.

i didn’t need them anymore after a few days. (phase 3 & 4)

What did you do on all the days you woke up and things were still the same?

stop affirming that you don’t see results. i flipped the thought of “nothing’s changed.” to “i am in my desired reality, it is done.” and so on. be stern and remind yourself that you are in control. don’t fall prey to the 3D. turn inwards, find confirmation in the 4D. read quotes above.

How did you not react to the 3D?

i allowed myself to be angry. if i wanted to cry, i did. if i wanted to vent, i did. i ranted my feelings out in my head, aloud or in a journal then proceeded to go back to the new story after i cooled down.

But isn’t ranting “not letting the old story die out?”

you and i could rant until our minds are cleared, just as long as you flip my thoughts, you are on the right track. i ranted for 2% of my 24 hour days. the other 98% i was persisting in the fact that creation was done. as “time” went on, it began to feel more natural and i felt more at ease. i held onto that feeling because i knew this was when i would get my desires and i did. letting out and actually feeling your feelings is important. you’re not a robot.

Did you script how your life would be?

no.

(.𖥔 ݁ note from Eli: here's her post about her life before and After she changed it with LOA, anyway i wanted to make it in a post since the Google document can't let you make a copie of it and plus you can't take screenshots which René didn't allow)

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID (2/2) | being lifted onto a counter

୨ৎ : featuring : lando norris, oscar piastri, kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, and yuki tsunoda (click here for part one) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon 🫐) : your f1 boyfriend picking you up on the counter... or maybe even vice verse for shits and giggles ;)

୨ৎ : genre : comedic romance & slightly suggestive (for some drivers) ୨ৎ : tws : suggestive if you SQUINT ୨ৎ : word count : 1774

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : who do you guys think is going to get podium this weekend >.<

ʚ・lando norris

lando was up to something.

you could tell from the way he was grinning like an idiot, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stood in front of you in the kitchen.

“i bet i could lift you,” he announced suddenly, arms crossed like he was about to prove some great athletic achievement.

you raised an eyebrow. “uh… yeah? you literally train every day?”

lando smirked. “okay, okay. stand still.”

you complied, waiting for him to make his move. he bent his knees, placed his hands on your waist, and then—absolutely nothing happened.

he grunted. groaned. dramatically wiped his forehead. even pretended to struggle as if you were a literal boulder.

you blinked. “are you serious?”

lando huffed, shaking his head. “damn, babe. you’re, like… heavy.”

silence.

you narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms.

lando’s grin immediately faltered.

“wait—no, that’s not what i meant!” he panicked, waving his hands around like a madman. “i was JOKING—”

“oh?” you glared, stepping back. “i’m heavy?”

lando’s brain short-circuited. “no! i mean—well, yes, but not like that! i mean, like—you’re the perfect weight! no—wait, i don’t mean perfect weight, i mean—”

you stared, watching him dig his own grave.

“lando.”

he froze.

you tilted your head. “if i’m so heavy, maybe you shouldn’t try again.”

that was all it took.

suddenly, his hands were on your waist again, and before you could even react, you were lifted into the air with complete and total ease.

you gasped, hands gripping his shoulders. “HEY—”

he smirked up at you, holding you like you weighed nothing.

“huh,” lando said smugly. “guess you weren’t that heavy after all.”

you smacked his arm. “i hate you.”

he grinned, leaning in slightly. “no, you don’t.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

lando’s smugness disappeared instantly. “no, no, wait—babe, please—”

and that’s how lando norris learned there are some jokes you just don’t make.

ʚ・oscar piastri

it was the kind of quiet, cozy evening that made everything feel just right, no race weekends, no flights to catch, just you and oscar, home together.

you were standing by the counter, absentmindedly stirring your tea, wrapped in one of oscar’s hoodies that hung far too big on you. he was leaning against the opposite counter, arms crossed, watching you with that small, lazy smile that only appeared when he was truly relaxed.

“what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes playfully.

oscar shrugged, pushing off the counter and walking toward you. “nothing. just thinking about how nice this is.”

you smiled, setting your spoon down. “you mean me making tea while you do absolutely nothing?”

he smirked. “exactly.”

before you could roll your eyes, his hands found your waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifted you onto the counter.

a surprised laugh left your lips. “oscar!”

“what?” he stepped between your legs, his hands still resting on your thighs, thumbs tracing slow circles. “you looked like you needed a change of perspective.”

you huffed, but couldn’t fight the warmth spreading through your chest. “and you just had to lift me?”

he hummed, leaning in slightly. “well, yeah. it’s my boyfriend duty.”

you scoffed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “oh? and what else does your ‘boyfriend duty’ include?”

oscar pretended to think, his fingers still absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin. “making sure you’re always warm. stealing your snacks, just to test them for poison.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “how noble of you.”

he grinned, his nose brushing against yours. “and, of course, making sure you never forget how much i love you.”

your heart stuttered. even after all this time, he still had that effect on you.

you softened, threading your fingers through his hair. “you’re doing a great job, then.”

oscar smiled, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to murmur, “good. because i’m never quitting.”

and in that small, quiet moment, with the rain outside and his warmth surrounding you, you knew, you never wanted him to.

ʚ・kimi antonelli

kimi wasn’t big on public affection. not because he didn’t love you, he just wasn’t the type to put on a show.

so when you tugged at his hand in the middle of a crowded paddock, laughing as you challenged him, “bet you can’t lift me,” you thought nothing of it.

kimi, however, didn’t hesitate.

he simply stepped closer, hands settling at your waist, and you barely had time to react before you felt your feet start to leave the ground.

that was when he realized.

the moment it hit him that you weren’t alone.

that, in fact, several people were watching.

kimi immediately froze, muscles going tense. his grip slackened slightly, and you could practically see the internal debate happening in real time.

“…df, pdf… vdc…” he mumbled under his breath, his brain quite literally short-circuiting.

you blinked at him. “excuse me?”

kimi exhaled sharply, dropping his hands as if you had suddenly become radioactive. he took half a step back, eying the people around you with suspicion.

“i’m not doing this here,” he muttered, shaking his head.

you burst out laughing. “what, you’re embarrassed?”

he gave you a flat look. “no. i just—” he gestured vaguely at the people around you. “why are there so many witnesses?”

you grinned. “ohhh, i see. you can win races, but lifting your own girlfriend in public is too much pressure?”

kimi scowled. “that’s not—”

before he could finish, you took a step closer, lowering your voice. “so… if we were alone, you’d do it?”

he hesitated for one second too long.

“ha!” you pointed accusingly. “you would!”

kimi rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away. “fine. come with me.”

you blinked. “where are we—”

the moment you turned a corner, out of view of prying eyes, he lifted you effortlessly, hands gripping your waist, placing you onto the nearest flat surface—a low counter, a bench, whatever he could find.

“there.” he smirked slightly, stepping between your legs. “happy now?”

you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “you’re ridiculous.”

he hummed, leaning in just a little closer. “mmm. and you’re lucky i like you.”

and just like that, the kimi antonelli no-public-affection rule was officially broken.

ʚ・ollie bearman

ollie bearman liked to pretend he was smooth.

emphasis on pretend.

he was confident on track, composed when it mattered, but when it came to you? all bets were off.

which is how he ended up in this situation—standing in the kitchen, staring at you like he had just made the most genius decision of his life.

“i could totally lift you,” he announced, randomly, like he had just thought of it and immediately decided it needed to be said out loud.

you raised an eyebrow, setting down your glass. “and why exactly do you feel the need to prove that?”

ollie grinned. “because i just know i can.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “have you been thinking about this?”

“…no,” he said, way too quickly.

you sighed, shaking your head. “you’re ridiculous.”

but before you could argue any further, ollie had already stepped closer, his hands firmly gripping your waist.

“wait—”

too late.

in one effortless motion, you were off the ground, lifted cleanly into the air like you weighed absolutely nothing.

your hands immediately gripped his shoulders, your laugh bubbling out before you could stop it. “ollie!”

he grinned up at you, looking way too pleased with himself. “told you.”

you rolled your eyes. “okay, fine, strong guy, put me down—”

his smirk widened. oh no.

“hmm,” he pretended to think. “maybe i won’t.”

you gasped. “ollie bearman, do not—”

before you could even threaten him, he spun you in a circle, his laugh mixing with yours as he effortlessly twirled you in the air before finally placing you onto the counter.

you stared at him, breathless, eyes wide. “you’re unbelievable.”

ollie brushed imaginary dust off his hands, still grinning. “you can admit you’re impressed.”

you tilted your head, crossing your arms. “okay. now you let me lift you.”

his cocky expression immediately dropped. “uh—”

“you were so confident a second ago.”

ollie laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “i—look, that’s different—”

you raised an eyebrow, challenging him. “oh? because i think i can totally lift you.”

“…can i at least finish my snack first?”

“nope.”

and just like that, his ego was officially on the line.

ʚ・yuki tsunoda

yuki tsunoda wasn’t the biggest fan of public displays of affection.

it wasn’t that he didn’t like affection—he actually enjoyed it quite a bit when it was just the two of you. but growing up in japan, where pda wasn’t exactly the norm, meant he was always hyper-aware of who was watching.

which is why, when he effortlessly lifted you off the ground in the middle of a very crowded paddock, he immediately regretted it.

at first, he was smug about it.

you had teased him about his height one too many times, so he had proved a point—his hands firm on your waist, your feet leaving the ground before you could even react.

“see?” he said, grinning up at you. “stronger than i look.”

you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “okay, okay, you made your point—”

that’s when yuki realized.

you weren’t alone.

the second he turned his head slightly, he was met with several amused, wide-eyed faces.

a few team members. some journalists. and worst of all—pierre and lando.

pierre’s jaw dropped.

lando’s smirk was pure evil. “ohhhh, this is adorable.”

yuki’s entire body locked up.

he froze, mid-lift, realization hitting him like a freight train.

he had just done this in front of everyone.

you could see the exact moment his brain malfunctioned.

“…oh,” yuki muttered, voice flat.

pierre grinned. “don’t stop now! give them a kiss too!”

yuki immediately set you down, face burning red. “shut up, pierre.”

lando was laughing so hard he could barely stand. “mate, what happened to ‘not in public’?”

yuki scowled, grabbing your wrist and practically dragging you away. “i forgot, okay?!”

you, barely containing your laughter, let him pull you along. “so, lifting me was fine until you realized you had an audience?”

yuki groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “i swear to god, i’m never doing that again.”

“you love me, though.”

he sighed dramatically. “yeah, yeah. i do. but next time, we’re doing this in private.”

pierre called after him, voice dripping with amusement. “are you sure, yuki? maybe next time you can dip them too!”

yuki’s entire body tensed.

“keep walking,” he muttered under his breath. “i’m gonna kill him.”

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