#YOU’LL BE OKAY ITS ONLY 2 HOURS

[shiftthemoon]

reality shifting isn’t hard. you’ve been told it’s hard because everyone’s too scared to admit it’s not. they cling to their 800-step methods, their must-have crystals, their perfect conditions because they think that if they let go of that control, they’ll fail. but here’s the thing: the more you try to control the process, the more you convince yourself it’s out of your control. and that’s the problem. that’s why so many people feel stuck. shifting isn’t some big, far-fetched thing. it’s just you. it’s always been you.

we’re conditioned to think we’re powerless. think about it—school, work, society, all of it drills this idea into us that everything has to be proven, earned, validated. so, when you hear about shifting, your brain freaks out and says, wait, wait, this is too easy, this can’t be real. and then you spiral. you overcomplicate it. you make yourself think you need the “perfect” script, the “right” subliminal, or that you have to meditate for three hours while the stars align perfectly. like, no… you don’t. all of that? it’s fluff. it’s noise.

at its core, shifting is belief. just belief. no, really, let that sink in. you don’t need to “do” belief perfectly. it’s not something you master through sheer willpower. it’s something you already have. you’ve believed in things your whole life. you believed in gravity without needing proof. you believe your favorite songs are beautiful without needing to explain why. belief is natural. it’s effortless when you stop overthinking it. that’s the energy you need to bring to shifting—trust. trust that your mind knows what it’s doing, and that if you let it, it will take you there. every single extra thing you pile on? the overthinking, the doubt, the need for guarantees? that’s what’s slowing you down. not the “lack of progress,” not some mythical “block”—it’s you convincing yourself it’s harder than it is.

and let’s talk about social media for a second. oh my god, the shifting community on social media… i get it. it’s comforting to see other people on this journey. but let’s be honest—how much of that content is actually helping you? like, really? 90% of the time, scrolling through shifting advice isn’t inspiring; it’s overwhelming. everyone’s got their own opinions, their own “best methods,” their own rules. one person says scripting is a must, another says it’s a waste of time. one person swears by affirmations, another says visualization is the only way. and before you know it, you’re sitting there questioning everything you thought you knew, wondering if you’ll ever get it “right.” spoiler alert: you already know how to shift. you don’t need a thousand voices telling you what to do. in fact, the more you listen to them, the harder it becomes to hear yourself.

take a break. seriously. log off the apps. give yourself space to breathe and think. ask yourself: why do i want to shift? what’s stopping me? what feels right to me? no tiktok trend, youtube guide, or reddit post can answer those questions for you. only you can. and i know that sounds scary. we’ve been conditioned to think we need external validation for everything, but shifting is a deeply personal thing. you don’t need a step-by-step tutorial. you need to trust your instincts. that’s it.

and let me be clear: i’m not saying methods or subliminals are bad. they’re fine if they help you feel aligned. but they’re not what makes shifting happen. you are. methods are just tools. if you use them, great. if you don’t, that’s great too. because the truth is, shifting isn’t about doing things “right.” it’s about letting go of the idea that you need to.

so let me break it down for you. the only things you really need to shift are:

1. a desire. you have to want to go to your desired reality. no brainer, right?

2. belief. this is the big one. you have to trust it’s possible. no “what ifs,” no “but hows.” just trust.

3. persistence. if it doesn’t happen right away, that’s okay. don’t give up. if you’ve ever learned to ride a bike, you know that falling doesn’t mean you can’t do it—it just means you’re learning. shifting is the same.

that’s it. no fancy rituals, no endless research, no “perfect” conditions. the process is simple because it’s natural. you’ve probably done it before without even realizing it— the only reason it feels hard now is because you’ve convinced yourself it has to be.

stop making it harder than it needs to be. shifting isn’t this unattainable, mystical thing reserved for “chosen ones.” it’s something anyone can do. you can do it. your mom can do it. that anti-shifter lurking in every crevice of shiftblr could do it. you’ve always been capable. but you have to stop getting in your own way. stop doubting yourself. stop relying on others to tell you what’s possible. this is your journey. own it.

and above all, be patient. shifting is not a race. it’s not about how fast you can get there or how perfect your dr is. it’s about trust, intention, and focus. log off, tune into yourself, and let it happen. shifting has always been yours to claim. it’s not something you need permission for. it’s not something you need to earn. it’s just you, your mind, and your belief. always has been, always will be.

[faemurmur]

-> soft yandere caleb hcs:

1. “you’re mine. you said so.” you get busy—miss a call, forget a text—and when you finally answer, his voice is calm, too calm. “i waited. for hours.” you apologize, sweetly, teasingly even, but he doesn’t laugh. “you promised you’d always be there, remember? don’t break your promises. i… don’t handle that well.” and later, when he holds you close, you feel the way his hands tremble slightly against your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

2. his name in your phone has a lock emoji. -> he changed it himself. he also disabled the option to delete his contact. “just in case someone thinks they can slide into your messages,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “they’ll know who you belong to.”

3. he tracks you. -> not in a creepy way (okay maybe a little), but he has your location always. and when he sees you’re somewhere unexpected, he texts immediately: “what are you doing there?” ……you ask how he knew. “because you’re mine pipsqueak, and i need to know you’re safe. that’s not too much to ask, is it?” and the look in his eyes? he’d burn the whole galaxy just to get you back home.

4. he doesn’t like you being friends with your ex-> at all. he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t tell you not to. he just shuts down emotionally, turns icy and unreadable. it’s bound with his actions though… he would probably still do everything acts of service wise. but he wants you to understand something is wrong, wants you to probe… and when you confront him, he finally murmurs, “i don’t want to be second choice to anyone. i want to be your only. and if that’s too much—” you cut him off with a kiss. you have to. because his voice was starting to sound a little unhinged and a little too honest.

5. he locks the door when you argue.-> not to trap you essentially (which he thinks he isn’t doing…) just to make sure you don’t leave. “we’re not going to sleep angry pips,” he says, softly. “you don’t walk away from me. not when we love each other this much baby.” and when you calm down, he pulls you into his lap, arms like iron around you, and whispers again and again, “mine. mine. mine.”

6. he doesn’t like you dressing up for anyone but him.-> you put on a new outfit, stunning, radiant—and his jaw clenches. why are you so breath-taking my gorgeous he thinks… no wonder he wants a world with just the two of you. “who’s that for?” / “me,” you say, innocent. but he steps closer, cups your jaw gently, possessively. “next time, wear it only when we’re alone. i don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine. or~ you’d hate how i become and say something like i killed your old caleb.”

7. his anger is unpredictable.->when someone flirts with you in front of him, he doesn’t start a fight. but sometimes the look in his eyes speaks more than words ever could. maybe he will break their bones when you leave, maybe he will let it slide. who knows what caleb’s mood dictates him to do. sometimes, he just smiles. and later, when you’re home, he pins you softly to the bed, hands on either side of your head.“do you want them?” he asks, voice flat. “because i can make sure they never speak to you again.” and you— you tell him it’s just him. it’s always been him. like a prayer, like a chanting to balm his rage. and he finally kisses you like a starved man, whispering “good girl.”

8. he deletes numbers from your phone.->you’ll never notice. he’s too smooth. but people you used to talk to? stop replying. and when you ask caleb, he just shrugs with a soft smirk, “maybe they realized they could never compete with me.” and then changes the subject with a kiss and that dangerous look in his eyes again…. this isn’t out of sheer possessiveness though its just out of trust issues.

9. he doesn’t like letting you sleep mad at him.-> you try to turn away in bed, still upset. away from him… back on his face like an iron wall. but he slides his arms around you from behind, strong and unyielding.“no. you don’t get to walk away from me in your sleep, either.” and you can feel how serious he is. “we fix this now, angel. i’ll do anything. but you don’t leave.”

10. he has nightmares about losing you.-> he never tells you the full details either. just that he wakes up shaking, pale, and pulls you into his lap, holding you so tightly it almost hurts. “i saw you leaving me,” he whispers into your neck. “don’t ever do that. i wouldn’t survive it.”

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love Part 2

It’s hard to listen to Eddie talk about this guy the same way Steve wished he did about him. Eddie, already so full of life and words, doesn’t seem to need to take a breather between his praises.

“Can’t believe this guy is actually into me, did you see him? Oh my god!” He groans and smacks his palms against the steering wheel, literally bouncing in his seat.

The van swerves a bit to the left.

“He’s just my type, too. Those eyes, prettiest eyes that have ever graced human existence, and they were looking at me. Me! Wow! The darkest green— I don’t think there’s any precious stone that can compare actually.”

He beams at him and Steve’s traitorous heart still flutters like a wounded bird helplessly flapping its broken wing. Eddie is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt, eyes crinkled at the corners and teeth on full display.

Steve will close his eyes at night and replay these words, pretending that this excitement and instant adoration is about him. That Eddie’s love-struck smile is for him.

“And, to top it off, he’s a geek. A fucking nerd. He actually knows DnD! What are the chances, Stevie? I’m no religious man, but an angel must have heard mine desperate pleas.”

His name is Adiel, Eddie’s perfect guy.

Steve spends that night feeling the need to cry, the hurt is right there at the base of his throat refusing to spill.

Steve kind of wishes he did, maybe letting everything out would leave him feeling empty instead impossibly full of heartache.

Adiel is blond, a dirty blonde that means he must’ve had light locks as a kid. Face slim and cheek bones prominent, but his features are soften by button nose. Maybe Eddie is right, he looks like the angels depicted in stained church windows, but whereas angels are depicted in white, Adiel wore exclusively black.

He wasn’t decorated in rings and chains like Ed, only a few silver piercings in his ears and a couple on his lips. But it was evident they had much in common, even just by looks. More than Steve could ever say about him and Eddie.

Over the next couple of weeks they share their music, intrinsically understanding what it means to one another.

Getting it.

Getting it the way that Steve never could, even with hours of Eddie breaking it down for him. Maybe Steve never understood, but he loved those moments shared between them. Wonders if Adiel cherishes those moments too. If he takes it for granted.

They share everything with each other and Steve hears every little detail gushed between sickly sweet sighs. He’s trying to be a good friend, to listen and share Eddie’s happiness, but something inside him grows bitter. Angry. He hates feeling this way.

“I met his friends already, they’re a really cool bunch. I really think you guys would get along. They know all the best spots for people like us. There’s a whole world out there, Stevie—“

Stevie. His breath stutters.

“Of people like us with places for us. We could take Robin and Vicky and be surrounded by people that won’t, that won’t think we’re… wrong. And who knows,” he nudges Steve’s side with a suggestive smile, “maybe you’ll meet the one there, huh Stevie?”

“Stop. Just, just stop!”

Steve doesn’t mean to yell. He just can’t take it anymore. Everything that has been building up inside him has reached a point where he just can’t. He pushes Eddie away from him who looks startled. Offended and bothered and confused.

“I don’t want to meet his friends, or least of all him. I don’t get it, okay! I thought—“

What did he think? That one day he would confess to Eddie or vice versa? That they’d kiss and go on double dates with Robin and Vicky? That he would fall asleep each night in love and loved? It seemed plausible at some point. That’s what hurts the most.

“Hey, Stevie—“

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“What? Your name? You don’t want me to call you by your name?”

A bitter laugh, “yeah. My name from your mouth.”

“I, You’re not making any sense!”

Steve knows. He knows. But Stevie, Big boy, Ozzy… even his own name, can’t bear to hear them. Not from him. Can’t bare the way his heart squeezes.

Eddie’s looking at Steve with furrowed brows and down turned lips, standing still. Has Eddie ever been still before in his life?

Once. When he was still and pale and red. His chest gone quiet for the most terrifying seconds of Steve’s life.

Steve looks at him, his eyes burn. Steve’s breath from his own chest brought Eddie back to them. Eddie’s lungs still carry his desperation. His ribs healed but the cracks must still be there from the palm of his hands. He’s tasted Eddie’s blood before from his mouth—

He’s kissing him. Steve, dumb stupid in-love Steve, has his lips on Eddie’s once more, but this time they’re warm and full of life and his ringed hands are on him and,

They’re pushing him. Away.

“Eddie,” his sight is blurry, eyes hot, and breath stuttered. “I, it hurts. You with him. I can’t—I just can’t.

And Eddie looks, terrified, dark eyes searching Steve’s face. For what, he does not know. Sincerity, maybe. Truth. Maybe looking to see if he’s really shattered inside.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t…I don’t…”

And Steve?

Steve smiles. It’s watery and his lips quiver.

“I know.” And that’s the problem, isn’t it. It’s always the problem. “I know, Eddie. I’m sorry. It’s, it’s okay.”

Eddie leaves Steve there in the living room.

There’s still two cans of Coke half full on the coffee table but only one person left in the room.

Part one < 💛 > Part 3

Tagged: @bananahoneycomb @margaglitterdeath

[sweetshuga]

That One Autumn Evening ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

Hooking up at a mutual friend’s party.

Warnings! Smut!, strong language!, obscene descriptions, pet name (pretty), oral (f! receiving), fingering, p in v (unprotected), overstimulation, size kink (kinda), praise kink (kinda), etc.

wc. 1.4k

notes. English is not my first language! Prologue to Keep it on

The music blared throughout the house, drowning out your thoughts. A solo cup in your hand that you occasionally took a sip from—even though you knew you had one too many tonight. Most of your friends had already gone home, having excused themselves saying they had work or just weren’t up for a crazy hangover tomorrow.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about anything at the moment. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of 2 years, over an argument about the dress you were gonna wear to this exact party you stood in, gulping down drink after drink.

The pouring rain outside contrasted starkly to the liveliness in the house, but it matched your mood all too well. The stormy weather was almost blanked out by the darkness looming over due to the late hours, but the sound of pattering droplets of rain kept reminding you of the turmoil outside, and in you.

Well, you and your boyfriend started to have a strain in your relationship from the second year mark so it wasn’t really a surprise when he broke up with you tonight; it was inevitable. Everything you did seemed to make him either annoyed or somehow even pissed off, which was completely unreasonable since all you wanted was his attention.

"He’s a fucking scumbag, always was, only you saw him through rose-colored glass," your friend held your hand, slurring her words as she spoke. A bitter scoff left your lips before you chugged the rest of the mix of alcohols that you didn’t even recognise the names of. "I know, don’t remind me," you mumbled, trying to keep your words from slurring.

One of your friends suddenly clutched your arms, and with wide eyes she whispered, "holy fuck, there’s a crazy hot guy approaching us, you have to at least get his number, forget about that dumb ex of yours— just act flirty okay?" She slurred. "What?" You answered dumbly.

You looked back when you felt a tap on your shoulder, locking eyes with a blue eyed brunette with a charming smile. "Yes?" The guy chuckled, "you’re really pretty," he said bluntly, the alcohol in his system fueling his confidence.

You just stood there and blinked at him for a good minute before your intoxicated self acknowledged what he said, straightening up as a smirk made its way onto your lips. "You’re not bad looking yourself, and nice chain," you said pointing at your own collar, indicating to the silver chain – with a horse pendant – around his neck.

He laughed softly and looked down at his chain briefly before raking his gaze over your body appraisingly, leaning in as he whispered in your ear, "you up for a more quiet talk?" A smile curved up your lips and you nodded, telling your friends you’ll be back.

𓆩♡𓆪

The way up the second floor stairs and into a spare bedroom was a blur, followed by giggles and muffled sounds of clothes hitting the floor.

Your giggles turned into breathy sighs as he kissed your bare skin, trailing his lips down the valley between your tits and leaving a few wet kisses there before going lower. Humming in appreciation to your body as he licked a stripe down your pelvis, causing your breath to hitch.

Matt chuckled when he noticed you squirm under his attention, slowly parting your thighs with his hands, "you’re so pretty, m’gonna eat this pussy so good—so pretty," he murmured before diving down. Your eyes rolled back briefly the moment his tongue made contact with your throbbing clit, a breathy moan escaped through your parted lips.

"Mhm... so sensitive ain’t you, pretty?" he mumbled against your flesh, causing vibrations that made your hips buck against his face, a whine leaving your lips. "Fuck... feels so good—yeah, just like that, oh fu—ck," you moaned as he plunged two long digits into your spasming walls, curling them just right.

His fingers and mouth worked in tandem, making that knot in your lower abdomen tighter with each lick and stroke. Your moans grew louder as you squirmed against his face—only to be held down by his free hand, eliciting a sob of pleasure from you.

"Can’t—m’gonna, gonna—shit, shit, shit," you moaned loudly, your fingers clutching on his hair for dear life as a powerful orgasm washed over you. The intoxication of the alcohol in your system made it all the more intense as you struggled to come down from your high, and the way his tongue flicked over your oversensitized bud of nerves didn’t help one bit.

He sucked hard on your clit and started to pound his fingers into you, intentionally curling his fingers upwards. "Wait—shit, i’m gonna—oh fuck, fuck—" you moaned loudly, almost wailing as you squirted all over his face, the sensation bordering on too much.

Your body went limp on the bed, your breathing ragged as you tried to comprehend the earth-shattering orgasm you just had. Matt wiped his face with the back of his hand, rising up your body, nudging his painfully hard erection against your pelvis.

Despite your obvious sensitivity and almost overstimulating experience, you found yourself wrapping your legs around his torso, beckoning him closer—to which he gladly did.

He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, "shh—you were so good, so good fo’me... you think you can go a bit more, pretty?" he murmured against your lips. "Yeah... just slowly, please," you whispered, your voice dying on you due to overuse.

He whispered soft praises and sweet nothings in your ear as he slowly pushed inside you, keeping a steady but slow pace. "Just like that, keep those pretty eyes on me and just feel alright?" He whispered, his lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck—ending at your collarbone where he left hickeys.

He made sure to be gentle even in his intoxicated state, knowing you were as drunk as, if not more than, him. His pace was unhurried but the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix with each thrust, grinding his hips whenever he bottomed out, making you whimper.

"Shit, you’re so big," you moaned, unable to think of anything but the thick girth inside you. Your walls fluttered around him, and each time he pulled back he would let out a groan at the way your pussy seemed to suck him in.

"Fuck—you like how big I am?" He rasped, and all you could do was nod, muttering a soft "yes" to which he groaned aloud. "Fuu—ck that’s dangerous," he mumbled, closing his eyes to hold on to that last bit of control, but the damage was already done.

His pace quickened, his hands gripped your knees and pushed them up, almost folding you in half as he started to pound into you. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix with bruising force each time, making you clutch onto him and the bedspread, your eyes wide as you moaned loudly.

He groaned loudly before smashing his lips against yours, swallowing your desperate cries of pleasure. The sound of the bedframe slamming against the wall rivalled with the sound of his hips slamming against yours.

The bed creaked beneath you, and your moans grew louder when he suddenly changed his angle, hitting that spot that made you see sparks. Your eyes rolled back as the pleasure threatened to consume you whole.

You jolted awake, sitting upright as you took in your surroundings, clutching your head at the severe pounding in your head. "Fuck, shouldn’t have drank so much..." Your hoarse voice trailed off when you noticed your nakedness under the covers.

Your mouth gaped as you tried to make sense of anything at all, but the hangover was preventing you from thinking even the slightest bit.

A slight movement beside you caught you off guard, and your gaze travelling to the guy sleeping beside you. His back was facing you—full of red marks, undeniable scratch marks. A soft flush creeped up your face at the sight.

You tentatively reached over and gently shook his shoulder. "Hey..." You tried to say but your voice was too hoarse and quiet so you opted to just get out of there before he woke up, but not before you wrote a small note, leaving it on the pillow next to him.

𓆩♡𓆪

Matt woke up a bit later, turning around just to be met with—no one. His eyebrows furrowed, he was sure he had hooked up with someone, "did I have a wet dream or something?" He mumbled to himself. Sitting upright on the bed before his gaze landed on the note beside him.

His face broke into a huge grin as he read the note, a soft chuckle escaping through his lips. You had written your name and phone number on the note, and had marked it with your lipstick stain.

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 1,475

Isa's notes. Yeah... I know I haven't been posting, but what can I say? School has started and I'm in grade 12 (senior year) sooo I have a lot of things to do at the moment:( Also, I made so many jump cuts just because I was too lazy to write it all 😃

xoxo 𓆩♡𓆪

Taglist: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @queenshet @chrisstopherfilmed

© sweetshuga

[igotanidea]

Childlike behaviour: Jason Todd x reader

Aka: the one when Jason understand family can be found.

might be read as part 2 to Childlike honesty.

***

The house was a mess.

Toys splattered everywhere, dirty pans and dishes in the sink.

Piles and piles of laundry in the bathroom.

And everything was too much and she felt helpless and like crying.

Theo was sick and Y/N could barely handle everything by herself.

Those were the times when being a mom, a single mom was turning into a living nightmare.

Having to handle a crying kid, an apartment that was slowly turning into a den and work calls.

“Mommy….”

Y/N sighed internally, holding back her emotional crisis, running hands through her hair and face, gathering all the strength she had left to not lush at the poor, innocent soul holding onto her leg.

“Yes, honey?”

“my tummy hurts…”

“I know, baby, I know.” She picked him from the floor, rubbing soothing circles on little stomach.

“I don’t like it…”

“I know that too…” truly, her mother's heart was breaking seeing the pain etched on the boy's little face.

“When will it stop?”

“Listen, how about we get you to bed and – “

“I don’t want to go to bed-“

“Mhm. But you want to feel good again, right? Go play with the kids in the kindergarten right?”

“I don’t like them.” Theo pouted and despite everything it was adorable. Sickness was making him exceptionally grumpy, hating everyone and everything.

“We both know that’s not true.” Y/N bopped his nose and kissed his cheek. “You like that girl right? That – what was her name, again?”

“Mom!” little fist landed on her shoulder and he hid face in her chest

“What? It’s okay, you know.”

“I don’t like her!”

“Of course not, of course not… Now come on, you’re gonna get some sleep and take that raspberry syrup and – “

“I don’t want to!”

“Theo-“

“I don’t like it!”

Y/N sighed again. She was fighting her own flesh and bone since the very morning and it clearly was a mix of a sick three year old alongside with a three year old rebellion.

“Can you be a good boy for mommy?” Despite his protests she carried him to bed, forcing to lay down and putting cover up to his chin, sitting right next to him “ please?”

“mhmmhmh…”

“Look, hon, we only got each other, ok? How about trying a little support?”

“su- support? What’s that?”

Of course he didn’t know.

“Support is when I’m here for you and you’re here for me…”

“But I am here-“ Theo tilted his head in confusion.

“Yeah, but – “ how was she supposed to explain it to a kid? How was she supposed to get into details of how she was struggling and not explode? “You know what? You’ll understand it when you’re older.” It was physically painful to use that hated sentence, she herself heard so many times before.  Even in her 20s some people were still treating her like a kid. “Get some rest now, ok? You need it and – “

“Mom?”

“Yeah, honey?” she brushed hair out of his forehead in an affectionate gesture.

“My tummy –” he said again, but before she could even attempt to answer, Theo vomited and unluckily, she was just within the scope of its reach.

***

It took two hours to finally soothe her son enough so he fell into the restless state of almost-sleep. Finally giving her a chance to drag herself to the bathroom, hoping against hope that the stains on her favorite hoodie would come off.

Being a woman, capable of multitasking despite tiredness, anger, and an urgent feeling of despair, she set the laundry and moved to the kitchen to finally wash the dishes, bottles, and other stuff that threatened to flood the space.

“Five minutes for myself ….”

“Mommy….” Something was tugging at her leg

Oh god….

“Theo? What’s wrong?”

“My tummy—”

“Does it hurt again?” instinctively she grabbed the first vessel that got into her hands and put it in front of the kid, who only looked at her incredulously.

“That’s a pancake bowl.”

“Yeah… Yeah, that’s a pancake bowl.” She admitted, mentally punching herself. Truly, the whole situation was turning into a meme.  

“Are we making pancakes?” Theo asked softly, with hope in his voice and sparkles in her eyes.

And she was gone, unable to deny this sweet little angel that crumb of happiness.

***

The house was a mess.

Toys splattered everywhere, dirty pans and dishes in the sink.

Piles and piles of laundry in the bathroom.

Only now, it was far worse.

Theo was sitting by the table, munching on the chocolate chip pancake while Y/N was desperately trying to fix the leaky faucet that was extremely stubborn and uncooperative.

“Fuck!”

Great, now she was swearing in front of the kid.

A kid that was so engrossed in his comfort food that barely noticed her struggle let alone her words.

Thank god for that, but she couldn’t put her luck to risk, cause obviously with the little disaster on her hands, fucks and shits were bound to happen again. Therefore acting like an irresponsible mother and walking the line of least resistance, she resorted to the easiest way of remedying the problem.

“Hey, Theo, what do you think about some Paw Patrol?”

***

“Of for fucks’ sake! Do I look like a fucking plumber?!”

The more she tried to stop the leak the worse it got. She was all sweaty, face red, hair wild and fuzzy, fingers reddened and one bleeding excessively from the untrained use of the French key. Of course she could call the specialist, but it didn’t even cross her mind.

“Fuck!”

Kicking the cupboard did not bring her even the slightest amount of peace, especially when the immediate effect of a spontaneous action resulted in pulsing foot and its door creaking and falling off the hinges.

“FUCK! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

“Mommy?”

“AGH!” she roared before holding back, obviously causing her kid not only the emotional damage but also starting a waterwork. “God! Theo, baby, I am so sorry – so sorry – please, come here…”

“Mommy… I think something is wrong in the bathroom—”

“Something wrong?” in the back of her distressed, tired mind she was already imagining monsters hiding in the shower. Clearly, adjusting to the way of thinking of a three year old was easier than expected. “What’s wrong, Theo? Come on, tell mommy.”

“Noises.”

“Noises?”

“From the bathroom.”

Oh, okay.

“I’ll go check it then.” Reluctantly she abandoned the kitchen, making a mental note to take a break and a deep breath before cursing again, grabbing Theo’s hand and tiptoeing to the other place. “I’m sure nothing wrong is – OH MY GOD!”

Right. There was nothing wrong with the washing machine shaking like it was about to explode and smoke hovering over it like a storm cloud. In the last flash of clear thinking she grabbed the plug and almost ripped it out of the contact.

And then –

Lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Before it all turned into darkness.

This was too much and she couldn’t handle it anymore.

Falling onto her knees, starting to shake and sob, deprived of all strength, drained of the remnants of positive thinking, exhausted.

“Mommy?” upturned, shaking lip, trembling chin and teary voice was enough of a symptom of what was coming. Soon enough, two people were crying in the bathroom, hardly hearing the doorbell, that got more and more insistent.

“Go away….” She muttered weakly, leaning on the bathroom wall, grabbing Theo and pulling him on her knees, holding close. “Just – just go away…”

“Y/N?”

“Jason!” Theo instinctively recognized the voice and jumped out of her reach, rushing to the hall on his little legs. “Jason!’

“Hey kiddo. Where’s your mom, huh? And what’s all this darkness about? Were you playing hide and seek or something?”

“No.” Theo shook his head, grabbing Jason’s hand “mommy’s in the bathroom. She’s crying – “

“Crying?” the older guy became concerned and worried “why is she crying, Theo? What happened?”

“The sink. And then it went poof in the bathroom.’

“Poof?”

“Poof! And then it was dark, but I don’t know why-“

“All right. Up we go.” Theo was placed securely on Jason’s arms “Y/N?! Y/N?”

“Bathroom…”

A moment later, a familiar 6ft tall silhouette appeared in the door, taking in the almost apocalyptic landscape.

“Jay…” she sobbed

“Mommy, don’t cry…” the kid squirmed in Jason’s arms, wanting nothing more but to hug and comfort and Jason let him do just that, before sitting next to her on the floor and putting an arm around her, allowing her to cry on his shoulder, rubbing her side without a word.

And if felt safe.

And it felt like she could finally allow herself to be weak, cause she wasn’t alone.

As cliché as it may sound, she had the proverbial big, strong man to take care of her.

To make her feel like she didn’t have to carry it all by herself.

Cause in the end, a woman has to feel like she has someone to rely on.

And Jason was just that.

***

Within the next two hours, he managed to fix the electricity and leaky faucet and the cupboard door without a single word of complaint. If anything, he was smiling under his nose all the time, repeatedly throwing glances at her, perfectly content seeing her relaxed and opening enough to be vulnerable. 

All while Y/N was properly comforted, wrapped in a blanket and served with a chamomile tea and Theo miraculously put to bed with a new book Jason brought him as a gift.

“feeling better, princess?

“incomparably… thank you.”

“Of course.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of her head “anytime. You could have just called me, you know, I’d come running in a heartbeat.”

“And make it all okay?”

“And make it all okay. Now come here.”

As he opened his arms she dived into them with a soft sigh of relief. He was her safe space and she was his peace of mind. And even if he didn’t say it out loud, having someone to do those every day, mundane, housework for, felt like home.

Felt like love.

“Will you read to me?” Theo appeared in the doorframe holding the new book in his little hands with a shy yet disarming smile.

“Sure thing, fella. Come here.”

One arm wrapped around Y/N, Theo’s back to his chest, book opened, lost in their own bubble of three.  

A truly family-like picture.  

He could get used to this.

@gl1tchgr3mlin @mara-moon @gone-batty-fics @tristrip @madness1999sworld @enchantedreader

[p0orbaby]

As We Plunge into the Ocean

summary: snapshots of your pregnancy journey with leah by your side

warnings: pregnancy and its potential symptoms, duh !

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.8k

-

You have to hand it to Leah, she's really leaned into this whole pregnancy thing. Not that you’re surprised. She’s always been a bit of a control freak. Actually, no, she’s a lot of a control freak. But now, it’s like she’s running drills for motherhood, and you’re the center of her training program.

Month 2: The Overprotective Phase Begins

“You’re glowing,” she tells you one morning. It’s sweet until you deduce she’s actually staring at the sweat on your upper lip. You’re clammy, nauseous, and you smell like day-old toast, but sure, you’re glowing.

Leah’s taken to hovering. She’s always been protective, but now, it’s like you’re made of glass, or maybe like you’re the last good avocado in Waitrose—precious and prone to bruising. She watches you closely, eyes narrowed, as if you might spontaneously combust into a pile of hormones and ash at any moment.

“You’re going to be late for training,” you remind her, trying to shoo her out the door with your tea bag as if you’re some sort of British Gandalf.

She glances at her watch, sighs, and then gives you that look. The one that says, I’m going to worry about you while I’m gone, so don’t do anything stupid like trip over air or suddenly decide to juggle knives.

“Don’t lift anything heavy,” she warns, pulling on her jacket, but making no move toward the door. “Or stand on anything taller than a pancake”

Close enough.

“Okay, Mum,” you say, deadpan. You’re both amused and slightly exasperated because Leah’s version of protective involves a lot of hovering and unnecessary life advice.

She kisses you on the forehead before leaving, like she’s blessing you for the day ahead. Or maybe she thinks you’ll forget how to breathe without her around. Either way, it’s oddly comforting.

When she finally leaves, you flop on the sofa, determined to enjoy the fleeting freedom before she comes home and starts fluffing your pillows like you’re an elderly Victorian woman with consumption.

-

Month 4: The Hormone-Palooza

Leah walks in from training one afternoon to find you sitting on the kitchen floor, crying over an empty jar of pickled onions. To be fair, they were really good onions. You’d eaten the last one two hours ago, and now the world feels like a cruel, onion-less void.

“What happened?” Leah asks, dropping her kit bag and rushing over like there’s been a national emergency.

“The pickled onions,” you sob, pointing dramatically at the empty jar as if it’s committed some unspeakable crime.

She stares at the jar, then at you, and you can see the mental maths she’s doing to figure out if this is worth her calling 999. But then she just nods, like she’s made peace with your hormonal breakdowns.

“I’ll get more tomorrow,” she says, like she’s promising to fetch water from a well three villages over.

You look up at her, eyes wide and wet. “Really?”

She nods. “Really. And I’ll get the sliced red ones this time”

You sniff, feeling vaguely stupid but mostly just grateful. “You’re the best”

“I know,” she says, deadpan, and helps you off the floor like you’re a drunk at a party who just tried to wrestle your reflection in the mirror.

But Leah doesn’t make fun of you for your hormone-fueled tears. She’s too busy making sure you’re okay, which is annoying and endearing in equal measure.

-

Month 6: The Nesting Madness

You wake up one morning to the sound of power tools. In your half-asleep state, you briefly consider the possibility that Leah’s decided to open a B&Q in your living room.

When you manage to roll out of bed, because rolling is now the only way you can get up, you find Leah assembling a cot in the nursery. She’s wearing a headlamp like she’s about to go spelunking. Her tongue is sticking out in concentration, and there’s a distinct air of “I watched this on YouTube once, so I’m basically an expert” about her.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” you ask, leaning against the doorway, trying not to laugh.

She pauses, mid-screw, and gives you a look. “I’m following the instructions,” she says defensively, even though the manual is open to a page that looks more like IKEA hieroglyphics than anything else.

You decide not to mention that the cot is currently upside down. Instead, you settle in to watch Leah’s one-woman DIY show. It’s honestly better than whatever’s on terrestrial right now.

After a good twenty minutes, she steps back, admiring her work. You both stare at the crib, which is somehow missing two legs but is otherwise a valiant effort.

“It’s... something,” you say diplomatically.

Leah sighs, rubbing her temples. “I’ll call my dad”

You nod. “Good idea. He’s got that handyman vibe”

She gives you a mock glare. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t help”

“I’m in charge of moral support,” you reply, patting your stomach. “And the baby’s supervising”

“Lazy,” she mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips.

-

Month 8: The Belly and the Beast

By this point, your belly is so big that it has its own gravitational pull. Leah has taken to treating it like it’s a small planet she needs to orbit. You’re the sun, and she’s some overzealous moon that won’t give you any space.

“Do you need anything?” she asks for the fiftieth time that day, hovering like a helicopter parent who’s misplaced their child in a crowd.

“No,” you reply, staring at the TV, which you can barely see over your stomach.

“How about water? I could get you water. Or juice. Or something with electrolytes. Do you want electrolytes?” Leah’s pacing now, clearly itching to do something.

You eye her, bemused. “I’m fine, Leah”

“Are you sure? I could fluff your pillow, or I could—”

“Leah,” you interrupt, trying to keep a straight face, “the baby and I are okay. You don’t need to, like, feng shui the living room or whatever”

She stops pacing, looking slightly sheepish. “I’m just... I don’t know what to do with myself”

You reach out and grab her hand, pulling her to sit next to you. “You’re doing great,” you tell her, squeezing her hand. “Now, just relax. Let’s watch something. Maybe something without pregnant women, though. I can’t deal with seeing anyone else going through this”

Leah laughs, finally settling in next to you. “Deal”

Five minutes into the show, she’s already got a hand on your belly, her protective instincts kicking in even during a Netflix binge. You roll your eyes fondly but let her be. At least she’s not trying to rearrange the furniture again.

-

Month 9: The Home Stretch (Or, The Last Nerve)

Leah is a bundle of nerves, more wound up than a cat near a cucumber. It’s almost cute, except when she insists on triple-checking the hospital bag, which she’s already checked twice in the last hour.

“Leah, seriously, if you add one more onesie to that bag, it’s going to explode”

“I just want to make sure we have everything,” she mutters, rummaging through the bag as if it’s one of those cursed Hermione purses from Harry Potter.

“We have everything. And then some,” you assure her, eyeing the ludicrous pile of baby supplies that could probably last through an apocalypse.

She finally zips up the bag and sits down next to you. For a moment, there’s silence, and you think maybe, just maybe, she’s finally going to relax. But no. She starts tapping her foot, glancing at you every few seconds.

“Do you think—”

“No,” you cut her off, knowing exactly where this is going.

“But—”

“Leah,” you say firmly, “I love you, but if you ask me if I think the baby’s coming today one more time, I might actually lose it”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, looking like she’s physically restraining herself from speaking.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, sighing. “I’m just... I’m excited and nervous and I feel like I’m waiting for a bomb to go off, but the bomb is cute and we’re going to love it and—”

“Leah,” you interrupt again, “you’re doing amazing. But you need to chill, or the baby’s going to think it’s coming out to meet a drill sergeant”

She cracks a smile at that. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to relax”

She doesn’t. But she does stop asking you if you’re in labor every fifteen minutes, so you’ll take that as a win.

-

The Grand Finale: The Delivery Room Circus

The day finally arrives. Naturally, it’s at three in the morning because why would your body ever do anything convenient? You wake Leah up by shaking her arm like you’re waking a teenager for school.

“Leah,” you say, trying to stay calm even though your insides feel like they’re being twisted into balloon animals. “It’s time”

She’s up in an instant, wide awake like she’s just heard the starting whistle at the World Cup final. She starts pacing, half-dressed, muttering about the hospital bag.

“We need to go, we need to—oh my god, where are the keys? Do we have the car seat? Should we call an ambulance? No, wait, we’re not calling an ambulance, that’s for emergencies, this is an emergency, but not that kind of emergency—”

You grab her shoulders, trying to steady her. “Leah, breathe. We’ve got time. But we do need to go”

She takes a deep breath, nodding like she’s trying to calm down a very excitable puppy. Then she’s off, running around the house like it’s an obstacle course, grabbing everything and nothing at once. You watch her in bemusement, one hand on your belly, wondering if you should tell her that she’s just thrown her shoe into the fridge.

When she finally gets it together, the drive to the hospital is an adventure in itself. Leah’s driving like she’s on her way to rob a bank, weaving through traffic and swearing under her breath at every red light.

“Leah, the baby’s not going to fall out if we don’t get there in ten minutes,” you say, trying to keep a straight face as she mutters something about the stupidly long red lights.

Finally, you make it to the hospital, where Leah practically drags you to the entrance like a deflated balloon on a string. Once inside, she’s all business, directing the nurses like she’s running a tactical operation.

The actual labour is a blur—hours of pain, and sweat, and Leah alternating between holding your hand and looking like she might faint. But she doesn’t faint. She stays with you the whole time, even when you scream at her that she’s never allowed to touch you again.

When the baby finally arrives, Leah’s expression is one of awe, relief, and sheer, overwhelming love. You’re both exhausted, but when you see her holding your baby, all of her earlier madness makes sense.

She was never just overprotective or anxious. She was just ready—ready to love, ready to care, and maybe, just maybe, ready to stop checking that bloody hospital bag.

Maybe.

Probably not.

But you love her anyway.

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch4

"For good service and cute waitresses”

pairing: pre military!jungkook x secret fuckbuddy!oc

contents: profanity, smut, fluff, humour, celeb au, angsty chapter guys </3, jungkook hurts oc unintentionally! Nari is mean (in a good way, we love nari here.) oc overthinks! mentions of ptd jungkook

smut warnings: f!masturbation, oc has dirty thoughts about jungkook, semi detailed description of masturbation, vibrator!

wc: idk yall but its lengthy

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: @dreamersparacosm (cmnt to be added!)

a/n: updating this story hopefully every 2 days now :) this chap was pretty hard and i pretty much just winged it, how do we feel so far guys?! is there anything specifically anyone wants to see (like interactions between oc + jk?) or anything at all! please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading <3 mwah

masterlist < prev | next >

The screen of your phone glares back at you, Jungkook’s unread message still sitting at the bottom of your screen.

So am I getting a response, or did you decide flirting with me was a one-time thing?

A few day’s ago, this would’ve sent you into full panic mode. Or even having his number in your phone?! Even yesterday you might’ve overthought it for an hour before even considering replying. Making Nari type out your messages, but today, you’re different.

Or at least, you pretend you are.

The coffee shop hums around you, filled with the gentle murmur of conversation, the soft clinking of cups, the steady whir of the espresso machine. Your laptop sits open, your untouched document staring back at you, the blinking cursor mocking your lack of productivity.

Your errands are halfway done—grocery shopping still pending, laundry detergent still forgotten, but at least you’ve made it out of the house. That’s a win, right?

You take a sip of your drink, only to realize it’s already gone cold. Great.

With a sigh, you stretch your legs under the table, cracking your neck before finally giving in to temptation. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for only a second before you type back.

[ iMessage ]

Y/N: Maybe I just like to keep you waiting.

A response comes almost instantly.

Unknown number: That’s a dangerous game to play with me.

A small smirk tugs at your lips. So he wants to play?

Y/N: And what happens if i make you wait?

Unknown number: You’ll find out soon enough.

Heat curls at the base of your spine, unexpected but not unwelcome. You should stop texting him—you still have things to do, a life to return to—but instead, you let the conversation go on a little longer. A few more back-and-forths, a few more teasing remarks, until finally, your phone vibrates with a different notification.

Nari (5:57 PM) Incoming Call…

You sigh, shaking yourself out of your Jungkook-induced haze before swiping to answer.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Nari’s voice is playful, but there’s a pout underneath it. “You’re not coming over tonight, are you?”

“Rain check?” you say, already wincing. “I have, like, a million things to do.”

Nari groans dramatically. “I knew it. You always bail when I need you most.”

“You literally saw me yesterday.”

“And?! You left without saying goodbye!”

You laugh, adjusting in your seat as you glance around the café. “I swear I’ll come over sometime this week. We’ll do face masks and eat too much takeout and—”

“And you’ll tell me all about Mr. Famous?”

Your mouth opens, then shuts.

Nari gasps. “OH. MY. GOD. YOU HAVE AN UPDATE, DON’T YOU?!”

“Shh!” you hiss, glancing around. “No, I don’t.”

“Liar! If you didn’t, you would’ve just said ‘no’ instead of ‘no I don’t’ like a liar!”

You don’t want to indulge in a gossip session with Nari as of right now. It sounds fun, but you’re in a quiet cafe, and you know you and her can get carried away.

You groan. “I really have to go, Nari.”

“You dont, bitch.”

“I love you too,” you say, shaking your head fondly. “I’ll update you next time I see you, okay?”

Nari sighs dramatically. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m at work all night, so I hope you’re having a better time than me.”

You glance at your laptop screen. The blank document stares back.

“Trust me,” you mumble. “I’m not.”

After saying your goodbyes, you hang up, slipping your phone back into your bag before forcing yourself to focus.

You wrap up your errands—grabbing the groceries you’ve been putting off, nearly forgetting the laundry detergent again, and finally heading home when your arms can’t carry any more.

By the time you step inside, your apartment feels like a time capsule of procrastination.

The pile of clothes on the chair? Unmoved. The dishes? Stacked in the sink. A fine layer of dust coats your shelves, proof that you swore you’d wipe them down two weeks ago. With a heavy sigh, you set your bags down and tie your hair up.

Time to finally get your life together.

You start with the dishes, rolling up your sleeves as you scrub at the dried coffee rings and leftover crumbs, stacking each plate neatly to dry. Then, you tackle the laundry, sorting through the mess and tossing everything into the washer with way more detergent than necessary because screw it, it smells nice.

One thing after another, you move through your space, wiping down surfaces, lighting a candle just because, finally making your home feel liveable again.

When everything is clean, you take a long shower, the hot water easing the tension in your muscles. You throw on something comfortable—an oversized hoodie, some loose shorts—before settling onto your couch with a deep sigh, satisfied.

But—

Your mind wanders.

Your phone is right there.

Without thinking, you open TikTok. Just a little scrolling, just to unwind—nothing serious. But then you type his name into the search bar. Just to see.

The first thing that pops up is exactly what you expected: thirst edits, fancams, interview clips. You click on one at random, some fast-cut montage of Jungkook on stage, his jaw tight, his eyes sharp, every movement calculated to kill.

You get it now.

As if you didn’t get it the first time he looked at you with those big fat boba eyes.

The way people talk about him. The way they react. The comment sections filled with all-caps screaming, with people losing their minds over every little thing he does.

And then you see the other side of him.

Clips of him laughing so hard he folds over. Videos of him playing with his dog, teasing his bandmates, singing softly into his phone, eyes half-lidded and gentle.

Your chest feels tight.

There’s so much of him online. So many sides, so many versions.

And yet, you can’t help but feel like none of it is the full picture.

Then, A paparazzi photo.

Jungkook in a dimly lit restaurant. Across from him, a blonde woman, her arms decorated with tattoos. A dating scandal. Seemingly one that never got confirmed.

Something sharp twists in your stomach.

Jealousy?

No. That would be insane. You don’t even know him.

And yet—

Your fingers tighten around your phone.

What if you’re just another one of them?

What if you’re just another rumor? Another name people whisper about in comment sections, another person tied to him in a way that’ll never be real?

The thought lingers, sinking deep.

But then, with a deep breath, you shake your head.

Get over yourself.

You scroll past it.

And then—

You find it.

A concert clip.

Permission to Dance in LA.

Your breath stills.

The video starts, and there he is.

Jungkook.

His cropped black shirt barely covers him, leaving the sharp ridges of his stomach bare, glistening under the stage lights. Silver body chains drape over his chest and abs, catching the glow as he moves. His dark hair clings to his forehead, damp with sweat, sticking just enough to make it look good.

And then—

The screen cuts to a slow motion clip.

Jungkook, walking forward.

Shirtless.

Flashes of cameras illuminate his body, highlighting every detail—his stomach, his collarbones, the slightest angry expression on his face. His lips part, his throat bobs with a swallow, his skin slick under the lights, gleaming in the way that only makes him look better.

Your breath catches.

Something hot coils low in your stomach.

And just like that, it happens.

The shift. The realization.

That feeling. Your mind begins to wander places where you know it shouldnt.

You sit in the dimly lit living room, the only sound being the soft hum of your phone as you watch the video of Jungkook on the screen. His chiseled features and captivating smile have you entranced, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.You feel a surge of arousal at the sound of his words, and your mind begins to wander, imagining what it would be like to be with him.

You start to fantasize about being with Jungkook in secret, hiding your relationship from the prying eyes of the media and the public. You imagine being at work, sneaking away to the bathroom to meet him in private. You picture him pushing you against the stall, his hands grasping your hips as he whispers in your ear, "Shh, baby, we don’t wanna get caught hm? That would be a mess…" You feel a thrill at the thought of being with him in secret, the danger and excitement of being discovered.

Your hands seem to move of their own accord, slipping under the waistband of your shorts and into your underwear. Your fingers graze your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. You start to touch your wet folds, gently at first, but growing bolder as the pleasure builds. "Ah," you whisper to yourself, You imagine his cock pushing into you, his hands covering your mouth to keep you quiet as you moan in pleasure.

As you continue to touch yourself, you start to feel a sense of guilt creeping in. What the fuck am I doing?you think to yourself, This is so wrong.

But the pleasure is too much to ignore, and you find yourself pushing aside the guilt, focusing on the sensations and the image of Jungkook on the screen. Your breathing gets heavier, and your heart starts to pound in your chest. You're getting closer and closer to the edge, and you can't help but let out a series of soft gasps as you continue to touch yourself.

You imagine Jungkook's hands on your skin, his fingers tracing your curves as he whispers in your ear, "You're so beautiful, Wanna fuck you all night." You picture him lifting your leg up, his cock pushing into you as he fucks you against the stall. You hear the sound of his voice, "Don't you dare make a fucking sound." You feel a surge of pleasure at the thought of being with him in secret, the excitement and danger of being discovered.

Despite the guilt, your body continues to respond to the pleasure. You decide to take it to the next level, reaching for the vibrator that's hidden in your drawer. You turn it on, and the buzzing sound fills the room as you press it against your skin. The sensation is almost overwhelming, and you feel yourself getting even closer to the edge. "Oh, god," you whisper to yourself, "Fuckk-." The vibrator hums against your clit, and you feel a surge of pleasure as your body starts to respond. You're getting wetter and wetter, and you can feel your juices starting to drip down your thighs.

As you watch Jungkook on the screen, his eyes seeming to lock onto yours, you feel a surge of pleasure. "Shit," you say to yourself, The guilt is still there, but it's no longer the dominant emotion. The sensation of the vibrator and the image of Jungkook combine to create an intense, all-consuming feeling.

You're torn between the desire to indulge in this fantasy and the need to suppress it.

You imagine Jungkook's hands on your skin, his fingers tracing your curves as he whispers in your ear, "You're mine," You picture him fucking you hard, his cock pulsing inside of you as he claims you as his own. You hear the sound of his voice, imagining what he’d sound like when he comes.

You feel a much stronger surge of pleasure at the thought of being his, of being owned by him. Your body starts to tense up, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your muscles contract, and you feel a surge of pleasure as you start to come. "Ah, Jungkook," you whisper to yourself, "I'm coming." Your body shudders, and you feel a wave of pleasure wash over you. Your juices flow freely, dripping down your thighs as you continue to fuck yourself with the vibrator. You're lost in the sensation, and you can't help but let out a series of loud gasps as you ride out the wave of pleasure.

As you finally start to come down from the high, you're left feeling breathless and spent. Your body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and your juices are still dripping down your thighs. You look down at yourself, and you're met with the sight of your own wetness, glistening in the dim light of the room. You feel a sense of satisfaction, mixed with a hint of guilt. But as you look back at the screen, you see Jungkook's face, and you can't help but feel a sense of pleasure and satisfaction. You may have felt guilty, but in the end, pleasure won out.

——

The morning hits you like a truck.

Your body feels sluggish, weighed down by something heavier than sleep, and for a second, you don’t even register the fact that you’re awake. But then—your brain catches up. The fog clears just enough to remind you.

Last night.

Your entire body tenses. A slow, mortified groan rips out of your throat as you roll onto your stomach, shoving your face into the pillow. You did that. You actually-

Your phone buzzes loudly against the nightstand.

You blindly reach for it, barely prying your eyes open, when-

8:47 AM

Your heart drops.

“Shit—shit, shit, shit—”

You fling yourself out of bed in a panic, scrambling toward the bathroom with one hand already dialing Nari’s number. You’re brushing your teeth with one hand, violently shoving a hoodie over your head with the other, when she finally picks up.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she hums, far too smug.

“Nari, I’m so fucking late for work—” you garble through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Yeah, no shit, considering it’s almost nine—”

“Oh my god, I slept through my alarm, I’m gonna get fired—”

“You do know I’m not coming in today, right?”

The words don’t even process at first. You’re too busy throwing your phone onto speaker, shoving your legs into jeans as you spit into the sink. “What?”

“I told you yesterday. I switched shifts with Sumni.”

You freeze mid-step. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I literally did, babe.”

You blink at yourself in the mirror, panic momentarily replaced by realization. Then—

“…Fuck you.”

Nari cackles. “No, fuck you. I knew you’d forget.”

“You let me suffer!”

“I let you be a dumbass.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” she corrects, completely unfazed by your rage. “You’re just Nari-deprived.”

You exhale through your nose, fighting the urge to slam your head into the mirror. Work without Nari is going to be the worst, like it always is.

“You’re an asshole,” you grumble, grabbing your bag. “I hope your day sucks without me.”

“I hope yours is miserable without me,” she shoots back, voice laced with fake venom. “I bet you’ll be crying in the storage closet by noon.”

“I bet you’ll be crying in the bathroom by seven.”

“I bet you’ll call me on your lunch break to sob about how much you miss me—”

“You wish—”

You’re locking your door behind you when she suddenly pauses.

“…Wait,” she murmurs, her tone shifting. “You never answered my text last night.”

Your stomach clenches.

“I really gotta go—”

“NO WAIT— YOU—”

You hang up.

Your phone starts buzzing immediately after, but you shove it into your pocket, focusing instead on getting to work before your manager decides you’re more trouble than you’re worth.

——

You make it twenty-four minutes late, and the only saving grace is that your manager doesn’t care enough to scold you.

Still, work is miserable. The diner is slow, the regular breakfast rush long gone, and without Nari to keep you entertained, time crawls. You’re halfway through refilling the sugar dispensers when the bell above the door chimes.

You glance up, plastering on your best customer-service smile—

Only to feel it immediately slip.

Because Jeon Jungkook is standing in the entrance.

Alone again, and way too fucking early.

Your heart stutters, but you force yourself to act normal. “Why are you here so early?”

Jungkook smirks, stepping closer. “I’m just here to get coffee.”

You scoff. “You choose a diner to get coffee? Seriously?”

“Hey, don’t disrespect my choices,” he teases. “Some of us enjoy a little diner experience, with cute waitresses on the side” He winks.

“You know we don’t even have good coffee, right?”

Jungkook hums. “Then why are you serving it?”

“You asked for it.”

You roll your eyes and grab a mug. But as you turn to pour the coffee, your gaze flickers toward him—and you really look at him.

His jaw is sharp, cutting clean angles in the soft glow of the diner’s lights. His lips are thin, but full and plump in a way, slightly parted as he exhales. His dark hair is a little messy, like he ran his hands through it too many times. But it’s his eyes that hold you in place—deep brown, warm and dark, filled with something unreadable.

You don’t realize you’re staring until—

Jungkook smirks.

Your stomach plummets.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement.

Your face heats up instantly. “Shut up.”

His smirk deepens. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, well- shut up anyway.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, watching as you place his coffee on the counter. And then—his fingers brush against yours as he reaches for it.

The touch is barely anything—a fleeting graze, the warmth of his skin against yours for a fraction of a second. But it lingers, spreading like static under your skin.

Your breath catches.

Jungkook notices.

He wraps his fingers around the mug, watching you with quiet amusement. “So, random question,” he muses, “if someone asked you to meet up outside of work, would you?”

Your stomach flips.

You keep your expression neutral. “Depends who’s asking.”

Jungkook tilts his head slightly, like he’s really looking at you. “And if it was me?”

You hesitate. The air between you shifts—something unspoken, something charged.

“I’d have to think about it,” you say finally.

Jungkook hums, taking a slow sip of his coffee. His eyes don’t leave yours. “Fair enough.”

You’re still trying to recover from the tension when he leans back, stretching slightly. “I’m actually busy today,” he says, as if that whole exchange didn’t just happen. “That’s why I came early. This place is close to my studio.”

You raise a brow. “Studio?”

He nods. “Got a few songs to record. Prepping for tour.”

Then, casually, he adds, “You should come.”

You blink. “What?”

Jungkook shrugs. “You should come.”

He’s joking. Obviously, right? But for some reason, it unsettles you.

Jungkook smirks again, but you feel a twist in your stomach.

Because what if you’re just another fan?

The words sit between you like something heavy, something you don’t quite know how to hold.

You should come.

Jungkook’s watching you, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, something just shy of amusement but not quite serious either. His smirk lingers at the corner of his lips, and you hate that it’s doing something to you.

“Yeah,” you say, forcing your tone to be light. “I’ll definitely come.”

You expect him to just let it go, but instead—he tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin feel hot.

“Would you, though?” he muses, tapping his fingers lightly against the mug.

You blink. “Would I what?”

“Actually come,” he says smoothly. “Or are you just saying that?”

You scoff, arms crossing instinctively over your chest. “Why do you care?”

Jungkook hums, taking a slow sip of his coffee before replying. “I just think it’s interesting,” he says, voice low, “how quick you are to brush it off.”

You swallow. “I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he cuts in, his smirk widening slightly. “Like you were scared to even consider it.”

Your breath catches, heart skipping in your chest. “I wasn’t scared—”

“Oh no?” His brows raise, and he leans forward slightly, his forearm resting against the counter between you. “Then what was it?”

Your mouth opens—then closes. Because the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to think.

Jungkook is dangerous. Not in the way that means trouble, but in the way that makes your pulse race. In the way that makes every teasing remark feel like a dare, every glance feel like a step closer to something you’re not sure you’re ready for.

And the worst part? He knows it.

He sees the way you hesitate, sees the way your breath stutters just slightly, and he eats it up.

You straighten, trying to not let him see the way he’s affecting you. “I don’t just blindly accept invitations from random guys,” you say, tilting your chin slightly.

Jungkook’s lips curve, and his voice drops just a little lower. “So I’m a random guy now?”

You regret your words immediately.

Because suddenly, there’s something about the way he’s looking at you—something a little more serious, a little more intent. And for a split second, you swear you see a flicker of something else in his expression.

Something real.

Something that almost—almost—makes you think he’s actually asking.

But then—just as quickly as it appeared—it’s gone.

Jungkook leans back, his smirk returning. “Noted,” he murmurs, reaching for his coffee again. “Guess I’ll have to work on that.”

Your stomach flips. “On what?”

He shrugs. “On not being a random guy.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your lips twitch—like they’re trying not to smile.

Jungkook notices.

And of course, he doesn’t let it go.

“See?” he says, watching you closely. “You like me.”

You scoff. “I tolerate you.”

Jungkook grins, and you hate that it’s unfairly attractive. “That’s just the first stage of falling in love.”

You nearly choke. “Oh my god—”

He laughs, leaning back slightly, clearly entertained. “I’m just saying,” he says, tapping a finger against his mug. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re kind of obsessed with me.”

You gawk at him.

“I—you’re delusional,” you sputter.

“Am I?” He tilts his head. “Or am I just painfully observant?”

“Oh my god—”

“You are, though.”

“I literally am not.”

“Mmm.” He sips his coffee again, eyes twinkling. “Denial is the second stage.”

Your soul leaves your body.

And then—to make things worse—he casually reaches for the sugar, fingers brushing against yours again.

Your breath catches.

It’s subtle—so brief you could almost pretend it didn’t happen. But it did. And you both felt it.

Jungkook pauses, gaze flicking up to yours, and his smirk slowly returns.

You snatch your hand back.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter.

Jungkook huffs a quiet laugh, stirring his coffee lazily. “And yet,” he muses, “you haven’t walked away.”

You don’t have a good comeback for that.

Because—annoyingly—he’s right.

There’s something about him that keeps you here, standing in front of him even though you could just leave, even though every instinct tells you not to entertain him any longer.

Jungkook hums, like he’s completely aware of the way your thoughts are spiraling. Then, after a beat, he glances at his phone.

“Alright,” he sighs, pushing his coffee aside. “I should head out.”

You blink. “Oh.”

You hate the way disappointment tugs at your chest.

Jungkook watches you for a second—like he sees it, like he knows. Then, as he stands, he leans just a little closer, just enough to drop his voice low.

“Try not to miss me too much,” he murmurs.

Your breath stutters.

And then—before you can even think of a response—he straightens, smirks, and casually throws a few bills onto the counter.

Your fingers twitch. “You overpaid—”

“Consider it a tip,” he says smoothly, already walking toward the door.

You stare at his back, watching the way he moves—easy, confident, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Then—just as he reaches the exit—he glances over his shoulder, eyes meeting yours one last time.

And he winks.

The bell chimes as the door swings shut behind him.

And you—standing there, stomach twisting—realize you’re completely, hopelessly fucked.

——

Its finally 9pm. You did call Nari at lunch. Of course you did. You’d left one of your shirts at her house, it’s not really that important, but you want to see her anyway.

You step out of the building, stretching your arms as the night air presses against your skin. It’s finally cooled down, the heat of the day fading into a soft breeze that moves through the streets. The city hums around you—cars rolling past, the faint chatter of people walking in groups, the occasional laugh cutting through the evening air.

You barely look down as you pull your phone from your pocket, already calling Nari before you even hit the sidewalk. It rings twice before she picks up.

“Finally,” she groans, voice thick with exhaustion. “Where are you? I told you to hurry.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “I’m on my way, chill. I left my shirt at your place,”

“My leg’s are killing, i pulled something at the gym today” she whines.

You scoff. “I’m the one walking right now.”

“Yeah, and look at you, surviving,” she deadpans. “Meanwhile, I’m literally dying. I swear, my legs are about to give out.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you mutter, dodging a couple walking too slow in front of you. “Are you sure you still want me to come? You sound like you need a coma.”

“Yes, obviously,” she huffs. “Just hurry up. I need moral support.”

You laugh, shaking your head. Your usual route would have you in Nari’s passenger seat by now, but since she’s not picking you up, you’re taking the train instead. It’s a little out of the way, but you don’t mind the walk.

At least, until you nearly crash into someone.

“Ah, sorry—” you start, stepping back quickly.

The person barely stumbles, but you notice the way his hands twitch slightly, like he almost reached out to steady you. You look up, already ready to move past the awkward moment—

And then your eyes meet his.

It takes a second to register. The mask covers the lower half of his face, and his black cap is pulled low, but those eyes—deep brown, familiar—make your breath catch.

“…Oh,” you murmur. “Hi.”

Jungkook looks at you, frozen for a beat too long. There’s something different about him—he’s stiff, closed off, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie. He glances around, shifting slightly like he’s uneasy.

“…Hey,” he finally says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. There’s something off. You’ve seen Jungkook in a lot of different moods during his visits to the diner- teasing, playful, even quiet—but never like this. His whole body is tense, his shoulders slightly hunched, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. His eyes flick past you, scanning the street, and then back again.

“Are you… okay?” you ask carefully.

“I—yeah,” he says quickly. Too quickly. His voice is lower than usual, tight. “I was just… heading out- of- of the studio…”

The way he says it makes something twist in your chest. You don’t know why it stings, but it does. His whole energy is different—rushed, distant. Like he doesn’t want to be standing here, talking to you. Like he needs to leave.

Your grip tightens around your phone. “Right,” you say, trying to sound normal, but it comes out smaller than you want.

Jungkook shifts on his feet, still looking around. The streetlights cast long shadows over his face, making his expression unreadable.

“I’ll—uh,” he exhales sharply. “I’ll see you around.”

And then he walks away.

Just like that.

You don’t even get the chance to react. One second he’s there, the next he’s disappearing into the crowd, shoulders hunched, head ducked low. It feels like a brush-off. Like something you’re not supposed to take personally, but somehow, you do.

You blink, still holding your phone to your ear, even though it’s not against your ear anymore.

On the other end, Nari’s voice cuts through the thick, sudden silence.

“Hello?” she says. “What happened?”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. Your chest feels weird—tight, uncomfortable, like something is pressing against it.

Finally, you swallow, forcing your voice to stay even. “I… I can’t come anymore,” you say quietly. “I just realized I have something to do at home.”

A pause. Then—

“Wait, bitch—?”

You hang up.

—

You’re dramatic. You know it. Nari knows it.

It took five calls before you finally picked up, and by that point, she’d already decided you weren’t going home. You were coming to hers, no excuses. And you didn’t fight it much, because she’s right—she always is.

She knows when something’s wrong. And this? This was definitely one of those times.

By the time you get to her place, she’s waiting at the door, arms crossed, scanning your face like she’s trying to read a book that won’t open. You barely step inside before she’s dragging you to the couch, her hands warm against your wrist.

“Alright,” she says, legs tucked under her, eyes sharp. “What the fuck happened?”

You exhale, shaking your head, phone still clenched in your fingers. “Nothing, I just—”

“Don’t even start with that.” She cuts you off fast. “You were about to go home and sulk. So, no. Try again.”

You sink into the cushions, staring at a loose thread on the blanket draped over the armrest. “I ran into Jungkook.”

There’s a beat of silence before she blinks, sitting up straighter. “Okay… and?”

“And he—” You bite your lip, still feeling the sting of it. “He was weird. Different. Like, I don’t know, like he didn’t want to be seen with me or something.”

Her expression twists. “Seriously? You’re fucking joking.”

You shake your head, replaying the way he looked around, the way his voice was quieter than usual, the way he left so fast like he was afraid to be near you. “He barely even looked at me, Nari.”

She scoffs, disbelief turning into something sharper. “What the actual fuck? So he’s all friendly and sweet before, and now suddenly he’s—what? Too good to be seen talking to you?”

You don’t answer, just swallow around the knot in your throat.

“Oh, hell no.” She leans back, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. “This is some bullshit.”

Your fingers tighten around your phone, your nails pressing into your palm. “It just—” You hesitate, then sigh. “It sucked.”

She softens a little, tilting her head. “I know, babe.”

And for a moment, you just sit there, letting the frustration settle between you, the weight of it pressing into your chest.

Because yeah. It really fucking sucked.

But then Nari sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I mean, to be fair, you saw what happened last time. The whole social media thing? That was a mess. He’s probably trying to avoid another situation like that.”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You hadn’t really thought about it like that, but now that she’s saying it, it makes sense.

Not that it makes you feel any better.

“Still doesn’t mean he had to be an asshole about it,” you mumble.

“No, he didn’t,” she agrees. Then she exhales dramatically and waves a hand. “Alright, enough of that. I’m over it.”

You let out a small laugh. “You’re over it?”

“Yeah, I’ve decided.” She leans back against the couch. “But you, unfortunately, are not.”

You groan, standing up, grabbing your shirt Nari’s so kindly washed and folded for you. “I really do have to get going home.”

Nari frowns. “What? No. Stay.”

“I can’t, Nari”

Nari rolls her eyes, but there’s a teasing lilt to her voice when she sighs. “Fine. Whatever. Go be responsible, I guess.”

You grab your bag, nudging her with your foot as you pass. “You love me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves you off, already grabbing her phone. “Now get out before I kidnap you.”

You snort, shaking your head as you step outside. The air is cooler now, the sky shifting into evening. You don’t check your phone until you’re halfway home.

And that’s when you see it. A missed call.

Your stomach flips. But you don’t call him back.

Not yet.

——

The next morning, you stay home.

Nari’s at work alone today, which is a nice change of pace, honestly. She likes having the whole place to herself sometimes, no one to tell her to stop playing her music too loud or to wipe down the counters properly.

It’s a slow morning. Barely any customers.

Until he walks in.

She spots him immediately, even though he’s trying to be subtle about it. Hood up, head down, sitting at the same table near the back, fingers drumming against the wood like he’s waiting for something—or someone.

Nari sighs, grabbing a notepad before heading over.

“If you’re looking for her,” she says flatly, not even bothering with a greeting, “she’s not here today.”

Jungkook blinks up at her, startled. “What—no, I—”

She raises an eyebrow.

He exhales. “Is she okay? She’s not answering my texts.”

Nari scoffs. “Oh, I wonder why.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for the first time, she sees it—the guilt, the regret.

“I didn’t mean for it to go like that,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just… I panicked.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want things to get out of hand again. I didn’t want her to deal with all the shit that happened last time.”

Nari folds her arms. “So your big plan to protect her was to act like she doesn’t exist?”

“No!” He looks up, eyes desperate. “I just—I fucked up.”

She watches him for a moment, trying to read him.

“You knew what you were doing when you started this,” she says finally. “You knew what could happen.”

He nods. “I know. I know. But it’s not like that. I actually—” He stops, running a hand over his face. “I think like her.”

That catches her off guard.

Not that she hadn’t suspected it, but hearing him say it? That’s different.

Jungkook sighs. “I just need to talk to her.”

Nari exhales sharply. Then, reluctantly, she slides his phone from across his seat and places it on the table.

“Then call her.”

He hesitates. “I already did, last night, she didn’t answer, God she dosent wanna fix this, I fucked up-“

“I swear to God, if you don’t—”

He snatches the phone before she can finish, already dialing.

The first ring feels like it lasts forever.

Then the second.

Then the third.

And then—

”…Hello?”

His breath catches.

Your voice is quiet, wary, like you already know it’s him.

“Jungkook?”

And just like that, he knows.

This is his one shot to make it right.

[inumkii]

mha boys working at a bakery

included: bakugou, kirishima, denki, shouto, and a little dabi feature

okay this prompt except its not awwww cute baker au! inspired by my old job, it was a bit miserable but i try to look back on it fondly

bakugou’s one of the bakers, almost always opening at 6am. there's a rare occasion where you're scheduled to open with only him and he's there early, prepping the dough with faint classical music playing in the background. opening shifts with him (and shifts in general) can be quite nice because he tends to mind his own business while you cover the counter, but you have walked in to him yelling at denki for leaving the scones in the oven for too long. i would say he’s pretty quiet when he bakes as long as no one else gets in his way. feel free to talk about whatever as he bakes because for you, he’ll silently listen. for anyone else, he’s complaining that they’re distracting him- unless! two people are talking mad shit or gossiping on the clock, he’s secretly listening in.

saturday morning opening shifts are your favorite because the two baker and two counter combo is almost always bakugo, kirishima, mina, and you. the reason why you put up with the miserable opening hours is because kiri and mina loveeeee to gossip about everything they’ve learned throughout the week between your coworkers and bakugou chimes in with additional information that no one else knew. you guys are surprised every time but he just shrugs it off.

kirishima is a sweetheart who does all the tasks that you don’t want to do. ask him to cover mopping tonight? done. need the stack of 50 sheet trays carried to the back? he’s taking care of it. he’s normally baking in the morning but he’ll close from time to time and you always know you’ll be out early when you see his name on the schedule.

denki takes closing shifts more often because he likes to call dibs on the pastries that didn't sell that day. he works at the counter more than baking,,, we all know why.. but he insists he can do either!! for everyone’s sake, especially the customers, you stick him behind the register.

i do think large group orders freak denki out so you have to stand next to him and help him ring them up every time. you really can't tell if he's pretending for the sake of having you by his side or if he genuinely can’t do it. (its a bit of both)

you guys have a closing checklist where you have to sign your name next to every cleanup task after completion but you and denki both hate doing the same things. so he’ll be a pain in the ass and sign his name prematurely on random tasks so you’ll get stuck on mopping duty. sorry. this is getting self indulgent but your personal favorite task is to take the chalk board advertisement for the bakery back inside at the end of the day. after a 7 hour shift, its a nice thirty second walk outside. somehow denki finds out that you love that task so he starts beating you to it. its gotten to a point where someone will innocently ask if anyone's taken in the sign for the night and there's a split second where you guys look at each other before immediately racing out the front door to see who can get to it first.

shouto is a gentleman!!!!!! he’s always there in the daytime, takes the 9-4 shifts mostly. hired as a baker but he took the counter once and he really charmed those old ladies popping in for their morning muffin so he’s kinda been defaulted to the front. you’ve been guilty at handing the phone to him when a wholesale order has gotten too confusing and he’ll kindly take over. he’s become the face the regulars see the most when they walk in due to the nature of his shift times.

you mostly catch shouto for an hour or two when you work closing shifts, coming in around 2. some nights, by the time you realize you need to take out the trash, its already dark outside. the dumpster walk isn’t necessarily far, but its not pleasant nor does it feel very safe. but when you go to check the trash, you realize shouto silently took them out before he got off his shift a few hours ago so you didn’t have to walk out in the dark. he’s never scheduled closing shifts, but if someone needs it covered + he sees that you're the other closer, he’s quick to offer. walks you back to your car too.

there’s a coffee shop in the same shopping complex that your bakery is friendly with. by the end of the night, any leftover pastries get put into a ziplock and handed over to them in exchange for a free coffee. the mysterious barista who’s name tag reads ‘dabi’ is always the one to thank you for bringing over the treats and making your latte. he knows exactly what you're gonna get every time he sees you walking up to the front of the cafe. he sends you off every night with a wink and your coffee in hand

(you aren’t aware that dabi is related to shouto at all. its never been brought up and they're mostly on different shift schedules. so when shouto hears about your closing night exchanges, he starts shifting his schedule just so he can accompany you. and to keep an eye on his brother to make sure he’s not going to pull anything funny.)

-

additional all might as my boss: early morning opening shifts are your worst enemy just because you cannottt be bothered to wake up earlier than noon, so when you do, you come in having just woken up ten minutes before. your boss catches you one morning and stops you for a ten minute rant about how you should be more confident with your bare face! and makeup is a social construct, so feel beautiful with yourself!! and you think its sweet but you didnt even notice how you weren’t even wearing the usual makeup look. thanks greg. i guess. he means well.

[peachy-wolfhard]

i just came across your account and i saw you write for my favorite jjk characters 🤭🤭 can i request a fic with yuta, megumi, and toge with a reader that comes to their dorm injured after a mission? Like what would their reaction be? I dont mean a full fic but idk what ppl call them i think its called drabbles? CORRECT ME IF IM WRONG 😭😭 anyway ty!! ❤️

hurt

Im so sorry this took so long!i hope u enjoy!!! :3

Warnings: kinda angsty in megumi and inumaki’s, blood, varying levels of injury, nauseua mention in toge’s

Word count: 455 in total

my too much gene kicks in when writing omfg

Yuta

You had taken a nasty blow directly to the back. Nothing too serious, no marks or anything, but the wind was taken out of you and your back was sore. Shambling back into the school, the only thing on your mind was Yuta. He hears you before he sees you. The horrible wheezing and sniffling alarmed him, making him scramble to peak out his door, whining at the sight. He knew you had a mission and that you would be alone but he didnt worry (he did, he stayed up all night and didnt eat) he knew you were beyond capable to handle a grade 2 curse. Yuta slowly cracks his door open, his eyes like saucers at the since of your limping self.

“Baby! Oh my god are you okay?! Comeinilltakecareofyou!” Yuta says, carrying you into his dorm.

Megumi

Ow. You had no idea how long you had been laying in the infirmary, the last memory you had was the curse heading directly for you after taking a slash to the chest. Ijichi had received your call and when getting no response, he rushed to you (while panic calling Gojo, who mocked his whining). While coming to, you see a distant blurry figure sitting on a chair next to your bed. 

“You were being so stupid,” the figure says. Upon hearing his voice you realize who it is. Before you can reply, he’s out the door, presumably back to his dorm. After Shoko deems you alright, you begin to make the trek to Megumi’s dorm. No one had seen him since he left you side hours ago. Knocking on his door you get a text.

U can come in. ill order some food. Im srry i left, i genuinly thought i was going to lose u. Pls let me make it up? 

Toge

Your head was pounding. Pounding hard enough to make you nauseous. Your whole body was pounding. Clutching your ribs you stumble to your boyfriend’s dorm. Your uniform is soaked and youre surely leaving a trail you’ll have to clean tomorrow. Weakly knocking, resting your head where the door meets the frame. Toge cracks the door open, sleep evident on his face. Realizing what hes looking at, he ushers you inside. Peeling off your uniform, Toge throws it in the bathroom, tears running down his face. After stopping the bleeding, Toge offers you an oversized shirt. Crawling into bed, he lays you on his chest, sniffling. Before you drift off, he taps your shoulder to show a message.

pls be more careful. ik ur capable and things can go wrong sometimes but pls be safe. i cant BEAR to not have u with me. i love u and i want u to come home every night.

[shadyfestivalperfection]

Love, Lies And Loki~2

Summery: A spell gone wrong turns Loki into a cat for 48 hours.

Characters: Loki x girlfriend!reader

Note: All characters except Loki are mine!

||Master List|| ||Part 2||

3. The Cold Never Bothered Him Anyway

💚 A Tail Of Misfortune (P-1)💚

Y/n had been through many strange things since dating the God of Mischief—some dangerous, some ridiculous, and some just outright adorable.

This, however, took the cake.

Sitting in the center of their shared apartment was a large, fluffy black cat with piercing green eyes, wearing an expression that could only be described as deeply offended. His tail flicked with the kind of irritation that said “you are beneath me,” but his ears were flat in a way that suggested mild panic.

Y/n blinked.

The cat blinked back.

“…Loki?”

The cat gave a tiny sigh through its nose and then, with all the dramatic flair of a god cursed into feline form, flopped onto the rug like the world had betrayed him.

“Oh my god. It is you.”

The cat—Loki—meowed in a low, disgruntled tone that somehow still carried a regal sense of wounded pride.

Y/n crouched, gently reaching a hand toward him. “What happened?”

Loki glared at her.

“You were messing with that old spellbook again, weren’t you?”

More glaring.

“Okay, fine, someone may have told you not to touch it,” she said, carefully picking him up. He squirmed, but only for a second, before going limp in her arms like a sulking child. “But you never listen.”

The spellbook in question—an ancient tome from a lesser-known sorceress Loki had “borrowed” from a sealed vault—was still open on the coffee table, glowing faintly purple. There was a circle of burnt carpet around it and a puff of black fur nearby.

Y/n set Loki down on the couch, where he immediately turned his back to her and sat with perfect posture, his tail flicking angrily.

“Right. You’re mad,” she said, crossing her arms. “Well, you did turn yourself into a cat. That’s kind of on you, babe.”

Loki turned his head just enough to give her a look.

Y/n tried not to laugh. “Okay, okay, let me find the counter-spell.”

She turned to the book and started flipping pages while Loki—cat Loki—watched her with an intense, silent stare.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then twenty.

And then—“Okay, yeah, um… I think this might be a timed curse.”

Loki let out a sharp mrrrrow of protest.

“No, like, you’ll turn back. Just… not yet. It’s only for 48 hours.”

He leapt off the couch, ran to the kitchen, and dramatically batted a spoon off the counter with a satisfying clatter.

“Hey!” she called, scooping him up again. “No need to go full chaos gremlin.”

The cat looked smug.

Y/n rolled her eyes and carried him back to the couch, this time pulling a blanket around both of them. Loki grumbled in his chest with the tiniest growl but didn’t move, letting her tuck him under her arm.

“You do make a cute cat,” she said, scratching behind his ears. “Even if you’re completely insufferable.”

His ears twitched. He didn’t admit he liked it—but he also didn’t move away.

⸻

(Later That Night)

By the time night rolled in, Loki had mostly adjusted to his new form—if you could call angrily stalking the corners of the apartment, knocking over cups, and glaring at the walls “adjusted.”

He sat on the back of the couch like a small, angry gargoyle, eyes following Y/n as she moved around in pajamas, tidying up and occasionally glancing over at him with a fond smile.

“I’m making dinner,” she called. “Don’t even think about jumping on the counter again.”

The only answer was a soft chirrup and the light thud of paws on tile.

“Loki.”

Thud. Scamper.

“Loki.”

The sound of something fragile shattering in the kitchen made her sigh.

She found him sitting beside a broken salt shaker, tail swishing, clearly proud of his sabotage.

“I’m never letting you live this down,” she said, grabbing the broom.

He meowed innocently, but she swore it sounded sarcastic.

⸻

When bedtime came, Y/n figured she’d fall asleep alone for once—assuming Loki would stay curled up in a window or something dignified.

But nope.

The moment she slid into bed and turned off the lights, there was a small weight at her feet. Then another at her side. Then a soft, warm body curled directly against her stomach.

She looked down to see two glowing green eyes blinking up at her.

“…You want to sleep here?”

Loki, very deliberately, placed one paw on her hand and meowed.

Y/n smiled sleepily, running her fingers over his soft fur. “Fine. Just for tonight.”

He purred—an actual, honest-to-Odin purr—and pressed himself closer.

As the rain began tapping softly against the windows, Loki’s head tucked under her chin and his breathing slowed. And Y/n, despite the weirdness of cuddling a magical cat version of her boyfriend, couldn’t stop the warmth blooming in her chest.

God of Mischief or not, he was still hers. Cursed, furry, and all.

Y/n woke the next morning to find a pair of glowing green eyes staring directly into hers.

She blinked, groggy and confused. “What—?”

Then her brain caught up.

Cat. Loki. Right.

And said cat was now standing on her chest.

“Loki, it’s 6 a.m.,” she groaned, voice muffled by the pillow. “You’re not a real cat. You

don’t need breakfast this early.”

He meowed.

Loudly.

Then pawed at her face with the dainty elegance of a royal pest.

She groaned again, shoving her face back into the pillow. “You used to sleep in ‘til noon. What is this nonsense?”

Loki responded by jumping off the bed and knocking her alarm clock onto the floor.

Y/n sat up. “You are so lucky you’re cute.”

⸻

(Later that Morning)

Y/n padded into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes, only to find Loki already sitting on the counter, tail curled neatly around his paws like a smug little king.

“Yeah, yeah, I see you. Don’t knock anything over this time.”

He gave her a slow blink, which was almost… affectionate.

She poured her coffee, then paused. “Do you… want some milk or something?”

He nodded.

Actually nodded.

Y/n stared at him. “I can’t decide if this is adorable or deeply unsettling.”

He pawed at the fridge.

“Okay, adorable wins.”

She poured a little dish of milk and set it down for him. Loki approached with slow, dramatic dignity, sipped exactly twice, then walked away like he had allowed this act of servitude.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “You’re getting way too comfortable like this.”

He promptly jumped onto her lap and curled up, purring.

“…And you’re emotionally manipulating me with cuddles. Got it.”

⸻

Loki discovered several things over the next few hours:

1. Zoomies were real.

2. Curtains were climbable.

3. His tail was, in fact, not an enemy—but also not to be trusted.

Y/n nearly cried laughing when he tried to pounce on it, misjudged the distance, and rolled off the couch in a tangle of limbs and indignant meows.

He glared at her from the floor like she’d personally betrayed him.

“Are you going to be okay down there?” she asked, tears of laughter in her eyes.

He hissed dramatically and marched into the hallway, disappearing into the bathroom.

Moments later, she heard the unmistakable sound of bottles being knocked over.

“LOKI!”

A shampoo bottle clattered to the floor.

Y/n hurried to the door, but by the time she got there, he was sitting in the sink, tail flicking, pretending to be innocent.

“You are chaos incarnate.”

He sneezed.

“Still cute, though,” she sighed, picking him up.

⸻

By the time night came again, Loki had mellowed out. He curled beside Y/n on the couch as she watched an old sitcom rerun, occasionally flicking his tail in annoyance at the laugh track.

“I don’t understand why Midgardian humor is so… obvious,” he grumbled.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s the first thing you say all day, and it’s to insult my comfort show?”

He huffed and nudged her arm with his head.

“You’re such a brat,” she muttered, but her hand found its way to his head, gently scratching behind his ears.

Loki let out a quiet purr and laid his head on her lap. His purring grew louder the longer she pet him, and by the time the second episode ended, he was completely limp, one paw draped dramatically over her thigh.

Y/n laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his feline face.

“You act like you hate being a cat, but you’re literally getting spoiled.”

He opened one eye.

She smirked. “Yeah, I see that smug face. You love it.”

He closed the eye again and refused to comment.

⸻

Around midnight, something strange happened.

Y/n woke up to a warm, glowing light at the edge of the bed. Her eyes fluttered open just in time to see the shape of the cat shimmer—light curling around him like gold thread.

A soft pop filled the air, followed by a very familiar groan.

And there, sitting on the floor in a pile of blankets and confusion, was Loki. Human again. Very much naked.

“By Odin’s beard, that was awful,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Y/n blinked blearily, still half-asleep. “You’re… you again.”

He looked up. “It would seem so.”

“You’re also very naked.”

“I was a cat, darling. Clothes weren’t exactly an option.”

“Fair point.”

She climbed out of bed and grabbed him a robe, tossing it at his head. “Cover up, Mischief.”

He caught it with a chuckle and wrapped it around himself. “You missed me, didn’t you?”

“I’m not answering that until I’ve had coffee.”

Loki stood, stretched, and let out a long sigh. “Being small and furry is exhausting. But you… you were kind.”

“I always am.”

He stepped forward, cupping her cheek in his now-warm hand. “I know. And I adore you for it.”

Y/n smiled sleepily and leaned into him. “You were surprisingly affectionate. All that purring and cuddling?”

He scoffed. “Lies. Propaganda.”

“I have photos, Loki.”

He gasped. “Delete them immediately.”

“Nope. I’m keeping them forever. For blackmail.”

“You fiend.”

“Look who’s talking.”

He laughed, the sound soft and real, and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for not putting me in a carrier or locking me in a closet.”

“Well, I did consider putting a bow on you and sending you to Thor.”

“You would not dare.”

She grinned. “Wouldn’t I, though?”

Loki rolled his eyes but pulled her closer. “You were wonderful.”

“You were fluffy.”

They both laughed.

And as they fell back into bed—Loki now very much himself—he curled around her like a human version of the affectionate cat he’d been.

“You know,” he murmured against her skin, “cursed or not, I’d go through it again if it meant ending the night like this.”

Y/n smiled, wrapping her arms around him. “Me too.”

-to be continued

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 1

You sell yourself to the Doll House to pay your mom’s medical expenses, only to discover your trainer is the guy who bullied you relentlessly in high school: Gojo Satoru.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Gojo’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Chubby Reader. Dubcon. Pet Play. Bullying. Collars/Leashes. Fingering. Anal sex. Gojo being an asshole.

You stand nervously in the welcome room of the Doll House. The owner is looking you up and down. “Alright, we’ll take you,” she says. 

“Really?” You’re surprised. When a friend suggested selling yourself as a doll to pay for your sick mother’s exorbitant medical expenses, you initially laughed off the idea. Dolls are all slim, sexy women… right? But you’re desperate, so you decided to check, just in case. The Doll House has a reputation for being fair and treating dolls well, so it’s the first shop you went to. 

“Of course,” the owner says. “Tastes vary. We often get requests for… softer women.”

That was a very polite way of putting it. You’ve been of the thicker variety since high school, with more curves than you’d like. But the owner must know what she’s talking about. Still, you’re quite insecure, and the idea of a strange man seeing you naked, seeing every little roll and flaw, was frightening. 

The owner gives you a price, what she’s willing to pay for you. It’s way more than you expected, and plenty enough to cover the medical bills and then some. You think of your poor mother sitting in a hospital bed, waiting for an operation she can’t afford, and your choice is clear.

“Okay, it’s a deal,” you say. 

A contract is signed, money is transferred to your mother’s bank account, and you’re left standing in the welcome room, waiting to meet your trainer. The whole experience is embarrassing, but you did this in secret, telling no one in your family. You instructed your friend to explain things to your mother when she’s well enough to understand, but to tell everyone else you moved far away. At least you’ll be able to maintain a little of your dignity. You don’t want anyone to know you’re in such financial trouble that you had to resort to desperate measures to help your own mother. 

You’re standing in the middle of the room, looking at the floor, when you hear a voice that is horrifyingly familiar. 

“Chubby Bunny? Is that you?”

Oh no. Please no. Not him. 

You slowly look up. Standing in front of you is the tall, gorgeous guy you had a crush on in high school… until he started bullying you relentlessly. 

“Gojo?! Why are you here?” you ask. He was a pompous rich boy in high school. Of course he’s probably here to buy a doll. You’re just mortified that he’s seen you here. 

He smiles as he pulls off his sunglasses. Ugh! Those eyes are so bright, they’re practically blinding you! 

“Looks like I’m your trainer,” he says. 

You feel like someone poured ice water down the back of your shirt. “What?!”

He laughs. “I was surprised when I saw your name on the file, but here you are!”

“I can’t do this,” you say, looking around frantically for the owner. “I’ve changed my mind!”

“Huh? But you already signed the contract,” he says, his smile dropping. “Isn’t it better to have a trainer you already know?”

No. It’s way worse. Indescribably worse. Maybe if it was someone else, anyone else, but not Gojo. 

You met him in high school. Initially, you had a crush on him, like every other girl in the school. He was so tall, with soft white hair and the most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen. There wasn’t a soul in the school who didn’t go weak when Gojo looked them in the eyes. 

But you were so shy, and totally certain that a guy as hot as him would want nothing to do with you. So you avoided him. If you saw him in the hallway, you went the other direction. When he said something funny in class, you held back your laughter. When he pulled some stupid stunt for attention, and the rest of the class was cheering him on, you focused on your school work and pretended not to notice. 

Until one day he actually spoke to you. Gojo Satoru, the hottest, most popular guy in school, spoke to you! Unfortunately, what he said was hurtful. He walked by your desk and noticed the cute, round, bunny-shaped keychain attached to your bag and said, “Your keychain looks just like you! You’re both Chubby Bunnies!”

He’d smiled when he said it, making the words seem even more cruel. A few of your classmates heard him and started laughing. From that point on, your nickname was Chubby Bunny. Everyone in class called you that, especially Gojo, who seemed to get a kick out the fact that he’d started the whole thing. 

Every day after that, Gojo teased and bullied you. He made rude remarks about your clothes, “accidentally” knocked your books out of your hands, took your belongings and hid them in his own desk or pockets, just to force you to come and beg him to return them, and even purposely embarrassed you in front of other boys. When you started to like another boy from a different class, Gojo caught you trying to slip a love letter into the boy’s locker. Gojo grabbed the letter, opened it, and read it out loud in front of everyone. That was particularly traumatic. 

The worst part of all was that you had lingering feelings for him that wouldn’t go away, no matter how badly he treated you. Throughout your entire first year of high school, you nursed a pretty serious crush on him. You might have even been in love with him. So when he started bullying you in your second year, it was hard to simply turn those feelings off. 

Now he’s standing in front of you, as your trainer. The very idea of it is unthinkable! Being intimate with him? Being naked in front of him? Who knows what sort of cruel bullying and mockery he would subject you to?!

“Uh, is there another trainer available?” you ask, trying to keep yourself from freaking out right in front of him. 

“Nope, everyone else is occupied,” he says. “Why don’t you want me to be your trainer? That kinda hurts my feelings.”

His feelings?! After everything he did to you? Unbelievable! But you keep your voice as steady as possible and say, “It’s just kind of awkward, you know? Since we went to school together.”

He puts one hand under his chin, as if he’s thinking it over. “Hmmm, I guess so. By the way, Suguru works here too. You remember him, right?”

You feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out. What are the odds that you’d end up at a doll shop where two of your high school classmates work?

“Oh, and Nanami too. He was a year under us but he was pretty popular.”

You turn around, putting your face in your hands. “This is my nightmare come to life,” you mutter. 

Gojo laughs behind you. “Come on, it won’t be so bad. It’ll be like a high school reunion! We can catch up on old times! And besides,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower tone, “you already signed. The owner hates it when people back out of contracts. She’ll destroy you financially. And that would be bad, right? Your file says you have a sick mom.”

You turn to look back at him, and he looks so smug, just like he did back then. But he’s right. You’ve already signed the contract. Backing out now would make your situation a thousand times worse than it was before you came here. 

“The training only lasts six weeks, right?” you ask him. Maybe you could stand it for six weeks. Then someone would buy you and you’d never see Gojo again. 

“Right,” he answers, grinning. “Unless I just keep you!”

A chill runs down your spine. “Haha, very funny.”

You’ve heard about the fact that trainers at the Doll House can keep a doll they’ve trained, but Gojo would never keep you. He treated you like shit in high school. He hated you. 

With a heavy sigh, you lower your head in defeat and say, “Okay. I guess I don’t have much choice.”

Gojo looks happy, and you can only assume it’s because he’ll get to bully you even more. 

“Great, let’s go to my room and get started,” he says, starting down the hall. “Oh, but don’t expect any special treatment just because we’re old friends.”

Friends? That’s laughable. But your fate is sealed, so you can do nothing but follow after him. 

********************

Gojo can barely contain himself as he walks down the hall. His Chubby Bunny is here! And she’s all his for six weeks. For six long weeks, he can do whatever the fuck he wants to her. He’s already getting hard at the thought of stripping her, exploring those curves with his hands, burying his cock in that plush round ass. 

The first time he saw her in high school, he wanted her. He’d always been drawn to soft, cute things, and she was the softest, cutest girl he’d ever seen. He was the most popular boy in school, so he couldn’t understand why she never seemed to notice him. No matter what sort of antics he got up to, she wouldn’t even look his direction. The way she ignored him only made him want her more. He wanted her to look at him, to acknowledge him. But he couldn’t bring himself to directly approach her. 

Then one day he noticed an adorable keychain hanging from her bag, and it reminded him of her. It was a cute, fluffy bunny with big round eyes. Without really thinking, he blurted out that her keychain looked like her, and called her a Chubby Bunny. In all honesty, he meant it affectionately. He thought it was such a cute nickname, and it suited her perfectly. But the other kids in class laughed, and she looked hurt. 

Most importantly of all though, is that she looked at Gojo. For the first time, her full attention was on him. Her eyes were wet as if she were about to cry, and her face was flushed in embarrassment, but she was looking at him! 

The next day, Gojo noticed another boy in class staring at Chubby Bunny’s soft tits, straining against the tight white button up of her school uniform. Gojo didn’t like that. So when she walked by him later, he said, “Don’t they make shirts any bigger than that? Yours is busting off you.”

She looked at him with a shocked expression, but it quickly changed to embarrassment and then anger. She ran out of the room as if someone was chasing her. Shoko, who was standing nearby, slapped his arm. “Don’t be a dick. You shouldn’t make fun of a girl’s weight.”

“Huh? What does her weight have to do with anything?” 

Shoko stared at him. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re being mean or being stupid.”

It didn’t take Gojo long to figure out that the one surefire way to get Chubby Bunny to pay attention to him was to make her mad. So he knocked her books out of her hands as a prank, then enjoyed the sight of her ass in the air as she bent over to pick them up. He took things from her bag when she wasn’t looking, but let her know it was him so she’d have to come over to him and ask for them back. He liked it when she spoke to him, said his name, glared at him. Any interaction was fun for him. From his perspective, he was simply teasing her, getting reactions out of her. 

But it all changed one day when he saw her trying to slip a love letter into another boy’s locker. He’d seen her staring at the boy from afar, and it bothered him. He couldn’t let them hook up! So he snatched the letter from her hand. She’d looked at him with anger. “Give it back, Gojo!”

He looked at her for a moment, not even sure what he wanted to do with the letter. He just didn’t want her to give it to the other boy. On a whim, he tore the letter open. 

“What’s this? A love letter?” 

She tried to reach for it, but he jerked it out of her reach. She was so desperate to grab it, she had pressed her soft body against his in her attempts. He wondered if she saw the blush on his face when he unfolded the letter and began reading it. The more he read, the more desperately she struggled to reach it, and the closer she pressed against him. Then, all at once, while he was still reading it out loud, she stopped reaching for the letter and backed away.

Tears streaked her cute face, causing Gojo to pause. “You’re an asshole,” she said, and then she turned and walked away. 

He hadn’t intended to make her cry. He just got caught up in the moment. He suddenly felt guilty, realizing he’d gone too far. After that, he stopped teasing her. 

It was nearly a year after graduation that he was out with Shoko. She was drinking and Gojo went along to make sure his friend got home okay. They got to talking about high school and Gojo mentioned Chubby Bunny, wondering what she was up to. 

Shoko had given him a dirty look. “I don’t know why you had to be so mean to that poor girl. She liked you, you know.”

He perked up. “She liked me?”

Shoko took another drink. “Our whole first year, she was always staring at you longingly when you weren’t looking. It was really obvious that she had a crush. Then you had to go and bully her.”

Gojo was still absorbing the fact that the girl he’d liked so much had also liked him. And he’d blown it by being a jerk to her. 

Now, several years later, fate brought her back into his life. This time as his personal toy for six weeks. He’s so excited he can barely breathe. He can’t wait to hear what sorts of cute sounds she’ll make when he fucks her, what sort of face she makes when she cums. He’s going to enjoy this. 

******************

Gojo leads you to his room, and once inside, he closes the door behind you. He stands a few feet away, facing you, and says, “Okay, go ahead and take your clothes off.”

You give him an incredulous look. Is he serious? That’s literally the first thing he tells you to do? 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “You’re not shy, are you?”

This sarcastic asshole! He has to know how insecure you are! He made fun of you for years! He couldn’t know it, but you’ve never been fully intimate with anyone before. Partly because of your own insecurity and partly because you’ve been so busy working various jobs to support your mother. You dated one guy for a few months and he never even saw you naked. You gave him a few blowjobs and that seemed to keep him happy. Until you broke up at least. 

“A little,” you say. 

He steps closer to you. “I can help you,” he says, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt and beginning to slide the fabric up. “Raise your arms.”

Numbly, you do as he says, letting him pull your shirt off. He doesn’t even take a moment to look at your bra before he’s reaching behind you and unhooking it, sliding the straps off your shoulders. His hands seem to fly to your skirt, quickly pulling it down as if he’s in a hurry. Then he jerks down your panties, sliding them off your feet. It all happens so fast, you barely have time to be shocked. 

Once you’re fully naked, he steps back and stares at you for a moment before he circles you, like a shark. You feel your face burning. Those beautiful blue eyes are seeing every inch of you, and you hate it. You would have preferred Geto or Nanami. At least they never made fun of you. Being stripped and ogled by your bully is mortifying. 

After making a complete circle, he stops in front of you. There’s a strange look in his eyes. Excitement? Hunger? Is he looking forward to bullying you that much? You use your arms to cover as much of yourself as you can, deciding you’ve given him enough ammo to mock you with. 

“Oh! I have something for you! Hold on,” he says, walking over to his closet. He digs around for a minute before coming back with a small box. He sits it on a nearby table and opens it, then pulls something out. 

You almost wince when you realize what it is: a pair of white bunny ears attached to a headband. They’re high quality, looking rather realistic. These didn’t come with a cheap Halloween costume. He places them on your head and grins. “Wow, so cute! Now you really are a Chubby Bunny!”

This. Fucking. Guy! You glare at him, and in return he just smiles and says, “You’ll get your tail later.”

Tail? You don’t have time to question that before he returns to the box and comes back holding more items. He holds up a pink leather collar with a silver heart shaped ring in the center, then places it around your neck. It’s a little tight, but not overly uncomfortable. He hooks something to the heart ring, and you realize he’s holding a silver chain with a pink leather handle that matches your collar. Is this a fucking leash?! 

Of course Gojo is into some freaky shit. Of course! 

“What is this?” you ask, touching the collar with your fingertips, lightly pulling it from your skin to see if it stretches at all. It doesn’t. 

“I never told you my specialty, did I?” he says, stepping toward his bed. “It’s pet play. Which means you’re my pet for the next six weeks.”

Oh God. This is going to be worse than you imagined. 

As he moves to his bed, he lightly tugs on the leash, pulling you along with him. When he sits down, he pats his lap. “Sit,” he says. You don’t know if it’s a suggestion or a command, so you just stand there, still trying to cover yourself. He pulls on the leash, a little harder this time, and says again in a deeper voice, “Sit.”

You don’t think you’ve ever had real physical contact with him before. Maybe when you were trying to retrieve something he’d taken from you, but that was so quick and frantic, you don’t think it counted. But you have no choice, so you step closer and slowly lower yourself onto one of his thighs. You’re bracing yourself for some kind of joke about how heavy you are, but he just grins at you as one of his hands, the one not holding the leash, begins rubbing and groping all over your body. 

“You’re so squishy,” he says, squeezing one of your breasts. His hand is warm, but you can’t help cringing. You’ve been groped over your clothes before, but this is the first time a man has touched your bare chest. And it had to be fucking Gojo. 

He moves his hand down your stomach, and you stiffen in his lap, hating that he’s seeing and touching everything you’ve ever wanted to hide. But those thoughts evaporate when his hand slips between your legs. If you were stiff before, you’re absolutely frozen now. You close your eyes tightly, turning your face away from him, but he tugs on the leash and says, “Look at me. Look me in the eyes.”

You open your eyes and glance at him, only to find yourself locked in his gaze. God, those eyes. He knows they make people weak. He knows exactly what he’s doing. It feels like he’s staring deeply into your soul as one of his fingers slides between your folds and strokes your clit. 

Your body jolts, and you instinctively try to scoot away from his hand, but he’s holding you firmly in place. Your clit has always been extremely sensitive, so much that you can’t even bear to directly touch it while masturbating. 

Gojo notices immediately. “Have you always been this sensitive?”

He gives the leash another tug, making you look him in the eyes again. You nod. His finger keeps rubbing you, making you whimper. 

“Why are you acting so scared of me?” he asks. “We’ve known each other for years. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

You just then realize you’re trembling, still trying to get away from his hand, pathetic little sounds coming from your mouth. Of course you’re scared! This man hates you, and he’s currently playing with the most tender spot on your whole body! But you can’t say that out loud. You shake your head and say, “I’m just… not used to stuff like this…”

His finger switches to rubbing circles around your clit, which gives you a small bit of relief. “Oh come on. Your old boyfriends must have had a lot of fun with such a sensitive little clit.”

You’re still shaking, and you try to look away, but he tugs the leash again. 

“Hey, don’t break eye contact!”

You look back at him. You hate looking at those eyes. They take you back to a time and place you’d rather forget. And even worse, they awaken feelings in you that you’ve fought hard to bury. 

“So?” he asks. “Didn’t any of your boyfriends know how to pleasure you?”

“N-no,” you answer. 

“Really?” He has a confused look on his face for a moment as he regards you, his finger still circling your clit, his eyes watching your reactions. “Wait. Have you ever even been touched like this before?”

When you don’t answer, he tugs on the leash again. 

“No,” you finally say, feeling like you want the ground to open up and swallow you. He’s just getting more and more material for making fun of you later. 

His eyes widen, and he says under his breath, “Oh fuck.”

His finger begins rubbing your clit directly again, causing you to jerk and gasp. He’s staring at you, forcing you to maintain eye contact through this whole degrading situation. “Someone told me something interesting a while back,” he says, his face suddenly looking serious. “They said you had a crush on me in high school. Is that true?”

“No!” you yell, tearing your eyes away from him. The only possible way this situation could be worse is if Gojo knew how you felt about him. He’d never let you live it down! He’d mock your feelings mercilessly! 

“What a reaction!” he says, making you look at him again. “Don’t look away now. Look me in the eyes and tell me you never had feelings for me.”

Locked in his gaze, words fail you. You can feel your cheeks heating up, and you know the truth must be written all over your panicked face. 

A grin spreads over his face again. “Say it,” he says, giving the leash another tug and rubbing your clit harder, faster. 

You cry out, squirming under his touch and his stare. Your breaths catch in your throat, but he’s not going to stop until you answer him. 

“I did! I did… have feelings for you!”

His finger slows but doesn’t stop. He gives you a strange look, one you’ve never seen on his smug face before. “Oh man. I wish I would’ve known back then.”

Why? So he could’ve made your life even more miserable? You feel tears coming on, but you’re still being forced to look him in the eyes. You can’t imagine how any of this could possibly be more hellish. 

“But, hey, you’re here with me now,” he says. “We can make up for lost time. I’m gonna make sure you remember these six weeks for the rest of your life. I bet you’re excited, huh? The guy you had a crush on is gonna be fucking you every day! You’ll be sucking my cock all the time. I bet you can’t wait for me to cum in that cute mouth! And I’ll play with this suuuuper sensitive little clit every day!”

You sniffle as tears start to leak out. Why is he saying all this? Just to torment you? All the while, you’re feeling the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt in your life. You’re going to cum right here while your bully watches, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. 

Gojo is still watching you intently, those accursed eyes almost glowing, not allowing you to look away. “I know, I know it feels good,” he says in a soothing voice, his finger relentless. “I bet you’ve never felt like this before, huh? It’s okay. Just ride it out. You’re gonna feel this same pleasure every day from now on.”

It’s all too much. His heavenly eyes locked onto yours, his sultry voice in your ear, his hand at your pussy, him pulling the leash so that your face is almost touching his. You can’t hold back any longer, and an earth shattering orgasm washes over your body. The moan you let out turns into a sob, and you’re left crying freely, your body shaking. 

Gojo watches the whole thing, and once you finally go still in his lap, he removes his hand and wraps his arm around you. “Now wasn’t that fun?” he asks, either oblivious to how totally overwhelmed you are or just sadistically enjoying it. Then he suddenly jerks the leash forward, causing your mouth to crash into his. He kisses you deeply, his tongue in your mouth, his hot breath melding with your own. It’s the kind of kiss you share with a lover, not… whatever nightmare this is. It’s probably his idea of a sick joke. 

“Now,” he says after breaking the kiss, “want me to fuck this virgin pussy?”

You feel dazed, like your mind is going blank. You don’t even care any more. Let him mock you. At least his touch feels good, physically. It’s not like you have a choice in any of this. 

“Yeah,” you mutter as he eases you off his lap. 

“You have to say it properly, Chubby Bunny,” he says, standing up. 

Numbly, you lower your eyes and say, “Please fuck my virgin pussy.”

“Okay, Bunny. Get on the bed.”

You stand there for a moment, feeling lost and vulnerable and uncertain. You don’t even know what you want anymore. Once upon a time, you daydreamed about the idea of losing your virginity to Gojo. You fantasized about him making love to you in some unrealistic romantic setting. So yes, some part of you does want to be fucked by him. But it’s a part you hate. 

While you hesitate, Gojo unbuttons his pants, not bothering to take his shirt off. Then he pulls his dick out, and all the fog from your brain instantly clears. 

Holy shit. Oh fuck. That dick is unnaturally huge. It makes your ex boyfriend look tiny by comparison. How the hell is that monster of a dick going to fit inside you?! 

He notices you staring and gives you the smuggest grin you’ve seen yet. “Like it? This is the cock that’s gonna pop your cherry. Take a good look.”

You hate to admit it. You really really hate to. But that is one beautiful dick. The color, the shape, even the extravagant size… it turns you on.  So fuck it. Let him do as he pleases. You start to climb onto the bed, and he adds more instructions. 

“Get on your hands and knees, and face away from me.”  

He’s going to take you from behind? On your first time? You’re not sure how you feel about that, but you do as he said. After you get into position, he scoots you back closer to the end of the bed, and stands behind you. You feel his hands groping your ass as he says, “I know you want me to fuck your pussy, and I will. But right now, I really want another one of your firsts.”

“What?” you ask, turning to look back at him. 

He has a bottle of some kind of liquid or ointment in his hand, and he squeezes some out. You feel it hit the crack of your ass, and then his fingers spreading your cheeks and rubbing it in. Wait, is this lube? 

“H-hey! What are you doing?!”

He gives you a dazzling smile. “I’m prepping you, Bunny. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, remember?”

“This is definitely gonna hurt!” you screech. “There’s no way that huge dick will fit!”

He gives your ass a light, playful smack. “Calm down. I have a lot of experience with this stuff. It’ll feel great, I promise. Now take a deep breath.”

“Wait-“

“Here we go!”

Your body tenses up as you feel his tip pressing on your asshole. It starts to slip in, and you shudder as you feel the first inch. 

Behind you, Gojo rubs and squeezes the fat of your ass. “Hey, you have to relax. It really will hurt if you stay so tense.”

You take several deep breaths, trying to force your body to loosen up. He slides in a little more, slowly, and then stops. It doesn’t feel like he’s all the way in, but he starts making shallow thrusts. 

It’s uncomfortable, even unpleasant, but it’s not painful. After a while, you hear his voice again. “I’m going in a little deeper, okay?”

You squeak out an “Okay” just before he pushes further in. You feel your ass stretching to accommodate him, and the first hints of pain as he goes even deeper, then starts to pump in and out of you. 

He moves slowly at first, but gradually speeds up, and goes deeper still. How big is he?! It feels like he’ll never be fully in. 

“Ahh… fuck… you said it wouldn’t hurt!” you cry out. 

Gojo suddenly yanks on the leash, pulling you up, arching your back. His free hand reaches around to grab your tit. “I said to relax,” he breathes into your ear. “Just enjoy it. Stop fighting your feelings.”

Again, you try to relax your ass as he continues thrusting into you. It helps, but it’s still uncomfortable. You close your eyes and try to think about how you felt in high school, how you felt the day you first saw him. He was so beautiful, you almost thought he wasn’t human. He surrounded himself with other beautiful people, and you knew those gorgeous eyes of his would never even look your direction. 

Now that impossibly beautiful person is fucking you, not in the way you’d hoped, but he’s still inside you, still gripping your flesh, still grunting out lusty sounds with each thrust. He’s enjoying this. It’s probably just because he gets some kind of thrill from doing something humiliating to you, but the fact remains that Gojo Satoru is enjoying fucking you. 

Thinking these thoughts makes his cock in your ass feel good. It makes your pussy wet. Eventually, it makes you cum, your body going weak as Gojo releases his hold on the leash and you fall face first onto the mattress. Your ass is still up, and Gojo is still pounding it, over and over until you hear him sharply inhale, and then his pulsing cock releases a stream of cum inside you. 

After he’s completely empty, he pulls out, and you fully collapse onto the bed, exhausted. 

********************

Gojo pants as he looks down at Chubby Bunny, at the plush ass he just came inside. Fuck, she’s so cute! 

He lets her rest for a little while before he goes to the corner of the room and pulls out a large, round pet bed. He places it on the floor beside his own bed and waits until she sits up and looks at him. 

“You’ll be sleeping here,” he says, pointing to the pet bed. 

She stares at it as if she’s taking a moment to process it. Then she shrugs as if nothing surprises her anymore. 

After they both clean up in the bathroom, Chubby Bunny curls up in the pet bed. She’s wearing adorable pink pajamas, and Gojo gives her a blanket before getting into bed himself. Before turning out the light, he hooks his end of the leash onto a knob he’d installed on the side of his nightstand. 

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” she asks. 

“Then wake me up,” Gojo says with a smile. 

“You’re not going with me, are you?”

“Nah, I’ll just unhook your leash until you come back.”

She looks relieved as she makes herself comfortable. Gojo watches her until she seemingly falls asleep, still not quite believing she’s here, with him. He really wants her to sleep in his bed with him, to feel her soft, squeezable body against his all night, but he is still her trainer. He can’t neglect his duty. So he goes to sleep, excited for tomorrow. 

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr @voids-universe @hinata7346 @maflorex @issracollen

If I missed anyone who wanted to be tagged, please tell me! 

[mrsfudd]

Always

theme: fluff

lover girl KK, very short n cute enjoy.

You and KK have been dating for 2 years now. You met her a week after freshman year started and have been in love ever since. She's constantly spoiling you. You love her attention to detail even though sometimes it can be a bit much.

“Hi baby” KK said while walking into your dorm.

“Hey my love, how was practice?” You said getting up to greet her.

“Good but that doesn’t matter right now baby, are you excited for our date tonight” KK said wrapping her arms around your waist.

“Yea I am but-” You said before getting cut off.

“Okay good, go get ready we have to leave in 2 hours” KK blurted out.

“Oh my god KK why didn’t you tell me before” You say running to your bed room and quickly turning on the shower.

Tonight was you and KKs 2 year anniversary. You got KK a small but meaningful gift that brought her to tears. KK hadn’t got you anything, well not yet. She loves to do it big and tonight is definitely an excuse for her.

2 hours later- 9:45 pm

“Oh fuckk ma, you look so good” KK said watching you walk towards her.

You blush slightly while holding onto KKs arm and letting her guide you out the door.

You had on a white flowy dress with pink your slides and a purse to match.

KK had on a white button up and nice black pants on. She smelled like sweet musk and vanilla.

Once you got to KKs car, at first you were confused on why she was recording you until you opened the car door to see the whole passenger seat filled with roses.

“Awww oh my gosh KK” You say running into her arms almost knocking her phone out of her hand.

“You like it baby?” KK says pleased with herself.

“I love it” You say giving her a small kiss not wanting to get your lip combo on her.

“Well come on, we have more than just flowers” KK said moving the bouquet for you.

As you are in the car, you keep trying to get KK to tell you where she was taking you but she wouldn’t budge.

The whole car ride KK intentionally played all of your favorite songs and had a cold water waiting for you.

KK let you decorate the passenger side of her car and honestly encouraged you to do it.

Once KK had pulled into the beach, she had a big smile on her face.

“What are we doing here?” You ask as she helps you out the car.

“You’ll see baby” KK said with her smile never fading.

KK hold your shoes as you walk onto the beach to see a beautiful set up.

KK once again pulls out her phone to record your reaction.

You wanted to cry but also didn’t want to ruin your makeup.

“KK, baby this is so nice” You say tearing up.

“Do you like it? KK says, her face was so sore from how much she was smiling. She’s normally never this quiet, only when she’s nervous.

“Baby I love it” You said while sitting down.

You and KK spent 2 hours at the beach but it felt like 5 minutes. It took you a second to realize that this was the exact spot you and KK met. It was august, right before classes started. There was a beach party and you bumped into KK. Immediately apologizing but she wasn’t mad at all. She just wanted to hear your voice again.

“KK this is too much” You say.

“Its not enough princess, you deserve everything” KK said with a small glint in her eye, still smiling.

“This has been the best anniversary ever” You say reaching for her hand.

“Just watch until next year” KK says.

You laughed but she had a straight face.

You leaned over and started to give her soft kisses. You felt as you couldn’t show your appreciation enough. You were beyond grateful for your wonderful girlfriend and constantly wondered how she was so good at showing it but you weren’t.

KK literally remembered everything about you, down to what color your favorite stuffed animal was as a child. She showed her love with acts of service and loved loved loved showing you off. To your surprise she hadn’t posted much of you today, just a picture from the first month of your relationship. She has you as her profile picture on all her accounts, her wallpaper is just rotating photos of you and if she can shes going to make it know that your hers.

Her friends are tired of hearing about you 100% but she doesnt care. Your her baby and so she gets to brag.

It was getting darker so you and KK cleaned up, well you tried to clean up but she didn’t let you. Something about you being “too pretty to work”.

KK had carried the stuff back to the car but told you to stay on the beach. Your confused but listen.

You wanted to walk up to KK when she was walking back to you but she practically ran back to you.

She pulled a small box out of her pocket and to your surprise it was a promise ring.

“Y/N, I promise to be forever faithful and I promise to change out this ring with a real one”. KK said.

You didn’t even have to say anything, tears streamed down your face.

KK went to slip the ring on and it fit perfectly.

“You remembered?” You said while KK picked you up bridal style.

“Always baby”

You gotten back to your dorm and KK was massaging your feet.

You had been off your phone all day for obvious reasons.

You had clicked on KKs insta story to see a bunch of videos of you throughout the day with only the words “always and forever” on them.

[mysticbby2009]

Rivals & Revisions Part 6 – This Is Worse Than Hell.

(masterlist) ; (part 1) ; (part 2) ; (part 3) ; (part 4) : (part 5)

Two hours.

You had been stuck in this library with Rafe Cameron for two whole hours, and somehow, you hadn’t committed murder yet. A miracle, honestly.

"Okay," Rafe said, stretching his arms behind his head. "Let’s test your knowledge. Quickfire round. No thinking, just answering."

You sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not at all." His smirk was way too pleased. "Alright—marginal cost?"

"Change in total cost divided by change in quantity."

"Good." He tapped the table. "Law of diminishing returns?"

"As you add more of a variable input, at some point, the additional output will decrease."

"Perfect. Deadweight loss?"

"When the market is inefficient—why are you looking at me like that?" You narrowed your eyes. "Why do you look impressed?"

Rafe shrugged, but the way he was grinning made you suspicious. "Just surprised you actually retained information. You know, since my notes are so useless."

You groaned, shoving your textbook toward him. "You’re so annoying."

"Annoying, but right." He leaned forward, tapping the book. "And speaking of right, this next problem? No way you get it on the first try."

You exhaled sharply, willing yourself to focus, and started solving it. Halfway through, though—

You stalled.

You stared at the equation, pen hovering above the paper, but your mind would not cooperate.

It wasn’t just the econ problem. It was everything. The exhaustion from the past two weeks, the pressure of catching up, the weight of whatever the hell was still dragging you down.

Rafe noticed. Of course he did.

"Hey," he said, and this time, his voice lacked its usual taunting edge. "You’re overthinking it."

You clenched your jaw. "I’m not—"

"You are." He tapped the paper. "Look, you got the first part right. Just finish it."

You tried. You really did. But nothing clicked, and your frustration only grew.

"Jesus," you muttered, shoving the paper away. "I can’t do this right now."

Rafe was quiet for a second. Then—

"Want to take a break?"

You blinked. "What?"

"A break," he repeated, closing your textbook before you could protest. "You’re fried, and I refuse to be blamed when you short-circuit mid-exam."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "I don’t need a break."

"You absolutely do," he said. Then, with a teasing smirk, "Unless you’re scared you’ll fall behind me again?"

You gave him a deadpan look. "This is why people hate you."

"And yet, here we are."

You groaned, but… maybe he had a point.

Maybe, for just a second, you needed to breathe.

So, against your better judgment—

You let Rafe Cameron lead you out of the library, your unfinished problem set temporarily forgotten.

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 2

Part 1

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers- Angst 🖤

Inspired by Wires by Athlete

Tw: hospitals, injury, Spencer near death

Your feud with Spencer feels trivial after you’re both shot

The first time you wake, you’re in a panic. The ceiling of the trauma unit is speeding by in a blur while people around you push the stretcher. There’s an immense amount of pressure and pain in your shoulder which is probably why you’re screaming. It’s also probably why every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire.

“They’re FBI agents! Get them in here now,” somebody screams.

You black out again and come to as you’re being moved onto a table. The room sways as you crash harshly into the metal surface.

“Spencer…” you murmur as one of the surgeons places a mask over your face. All goes black with shouts and medical equipment blaring in your ears.

-

The room comes into view in a blur. You try to glance around but the figure standing over you is indistinguishable.

Finally your brain catches up to your eyes and you see JJ and Rossi at your bedside.

“What happ…” your voice gives out.

“You were shot in the shoulder. It was a flesh wound, they got the bullet out,” Rossi says and places his hand on yours.

You allow Rossi’s father-like comfort to wash over you before panic seized you once more. The room stirs and your stomach drops as the reality of the situation kicks in.

You wince and lay your head back, it feels like someone placed a led weight in your shoulder. Then it comes back to you.

“Reid, what happened to Reid?” You gasp.

“He’s still in surgery,” JJ answers. Her tone tells you it’s bad.

“How long?”

“You’ve been here about 4 hours, Spencer’s been in surgery for 3,” Rossi informs you.

“Is he…” tears well in your eyes. He took a bullet for you. Both bullets should have hit you. Why would he do that?

“He’s in critical condition,” Rossi’s voice is filled with sorrow. The words are a blow to your abdomen, drawing all of the oxygen from your lungs.

“No,” you whisper and try to sit up. Guilt creeps its way in and claws its way down your spine.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N,” JJ reassures you. You shake your head.

The doctor enters and begins checking you out and encouraging you to rest. You argue that you can’t rest until you know your coworker is okay.

While the gesture was nice, whatever pain medicine he pushes into your IV sends you back into darkness before you can stop it.

-

The next time you wake, you feel more normal. As though waking up from regular sleep instead of from passing out in shock.

Sunlight filters through the massive glass windows which overlook the city. Your concept of time is non existent but at least you only have one IV in you now instead of three.

“You’re awake,” Garcia smiles and stands. Her usual bouncy optimism is missing in her words. She looks exhausted.

“Did he…” you don’t even know what to ask.

“He’s out of surgery. He’s critical but stabilized,” she answers in a hushed tone.

“I’m so sorry,” your voice cracks.

“Why are you apologizing? You were shit too,” she softens her voice and pushes your hair back from your face,

“That bullet should have hit me, I don’t know why he got in the way,” you sniffle.

“That bullet might have struck you in the head,” she raises her eyebrows like you’re being ridiculous. She was right though, your head is right at the same height as his neck.

“He couldn’t have known that,” you reason.

“No but he instinctively would have protected anybody on this team. He didn’t have to think about it,” she tries not to cry.

“I know,” you nod.

Just then Hotch and Prentiss enter the room, smiling to see you awake.

“Hey,” Prentiss hugs you gently.

“What are the doctors saying?” You ask anyone out loud.

“They’re hopeful you’ll only need to be monitored for another 24 hours,” Hotch informs.

“I meant about Reid,” you say.

“The bullet entered the front of his neck and lodged into his trachea. It was touch and go for a while but they were able to remove the bullet and reconstruct the damaged airway,” Hotch starts.

“He went into respiratory distress this morning and had to get intubated. He’s on a ventilator now. That’s why he’s still critical. He’s not breathing fully on his own and they’re trying to drain the blood and fluid from his lungs,” Garcia adds.

“I…” you lip quivers and tears start to fall. You’re horrified for him. “He must be so scared,” you whisper.

“He’s sedated, he doesn’t know what’s happening,” Prentiss says softly.

Of course he’s sedated, he wouldn’t be awake and intubated.

You’re about to say something when one of the ICU’s alarms begins to blare.

“Code blue, room 3489,” you startle and sit up as the three of them rush out of the room. Nurses and doctors take off down the hall.

“Wait!” You cry.

Code blue- someone is in respiratory or cardiac arrest. You want nothing more than to get out of the damned bed but you’re hooked up to an IV and an alarm.

Garcia nods and throws her hand over her mouth before darting back to you.

“It’s not him, it’s not Reid,” she huffs a relieved crying sort of laugh and hugs you.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t deal with losing someone on the team. It would destroy you.

You couldn’t imagine going to work and not competing with him to be the smartest in the room. It was annoying but god right now you missed it. You even missed his dad’s and his attitude and snarky remarks. You were so mad at him for taking that step in front of you. Yet you just wanted to be there at his bedside like the rest of the team.

“I want to see him,” you tell her.

“You will. You just have to focus on getting your strength back first,” she says. Garcia had a way of saying things that was so comforting.

The rest of that day was spent sleeping and getting a play by play of Reid’s progress.

-

The following morning you were up on your feet and able to walk around perfectly fine. Your arm was in a sling to prevent excess movement on your shoulder but for the most part you felt fine.

You were eager to go see Reid, though you weren’t sure why. The team had warned you that it wouldn’t be easy to see him hooked up to the breathing tube and other wires. You should be reluctant. But you just needed to show yourself that at the very least, he was still alive.

Stepping into his room was jarring and you froze in the doorway. His entire body was limp, his head flopped to the side, and his hair pulled from his face with a rubber band. He looked everything and nothing like himself.

He had drains and tubes coming out of his lungs and out of the hole in his throat, the tube down his throat forced his Adam’s apple to be protruded out, and you couldn’t count the amount of medication drips he was hooked up to.

His usual dark circles were deeper, more purple, his skin pale, and a feeding tube was inserted into his nose. You swallowed hard and took a slow step closer to him. He was always so animated and full of life, yapping constantly. To see him so motionless, so silent… it was devastating.

Morgan was sitting in the chair next to his bed, his head down next to Reid. He had fallen asleep. Reid was like his little brother, he hadn’t left his side. He was still wearing the same clothes from the night of the shooting.

You could see the breathing machine pumping, inflating his lungs for him. You could hear a low hum and what sounded like fluid in there. Occasionally it looked like he would cough or gag around the tube.

“It’s normal, his body isn’t used to there being a tube there,” the nurse informs you as she injects something into his IV line.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

“He’s not aware of it if it does,” she gives you a sympathetic smile.

His fingers twitched momentarily but it was the only sign of movement.

You pull a chair up next to him and sit slowly. You can’t take your eyes off of him. You physically feel your heart break seeing him like this. Seeing any one of your team like this would devastate you. But Reid… you had a complicated but reluctantly understanding with. He was more like you than anyone else there. Seeing him often felt like looking in a mirror, seeing him hurt was too much.

“The machine is only doing 20% of the breathing for him. The fluid has reduced a lot. This is progress,” Hotch says somberly. You nod and wipe a tear.

You wished Reid could talk. He’d give you a million different probabilities of how this could play out along with a run down of what all of the equipment did. He’d be realistic but you had a feeling he’d give you hope. Maybe though, you just wanted to hear his voice.

You touch his hand, and trace his fingers delicately. You wished you could help him. Wished you could do something.

Garcia rubs Morgans back and gestures for him to follow her. The team leaves you to have a minute alone with him.

“Why did you take that step?” Is the first thing you say through tears. “That was so stupid,” you laugh. “You’re supposed to be the genius,” you breathe out another tear fueled laugh.

You wrap your hand over his and squeeze.

“This team needs you, please just keeping fighting Reid,” you implore him. “Your mom will be here tonight. It took some strings to pull but Garcia has her on a plane now.”

“I’m so mad at you. You brilliant asshole,” you can’t help but to smile.

And then, you don’t know why you do it. He would hate it surely, but you stand up and plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Your hair looks ridiculous by the way,” you whisper and push the baby hairs back.

You start to think that maybe if you hadn’t holstered your gun, Reid wouldn’t have felt the need to step in front of you to take the shot. That’s realization hits you like a ton of bricks and forces you to sit back down.

You were really starting to feel like it was your fault.

“I’m so sorry, Reid,” your voice cracks and you squeeze his hand a final time before leaving the room.

“Let’s get you home,” JJ says and grabs your uninjured arm.

-

Days passed, days passed and you didn’t want to leave your house. You listened to the doctors and primarily did bed rest, but you were ancy.

Spencer had been taken off of sedation last night and was becoming more lucid. You would get to see him tonight. Garcia says he’s improving quickly.

The last few days passed in a blur, the same way a hummingbird passes by a kitchen window. You rub your arms and sip your coffee. You don’t know how what you’re going to say to him.

Part of you still warred with guilt, with the way that technically you guys didn’t even like each other. Yet something had changed. Something gave way that night. You couldn’t explain it but you needed to talk to him. Maybe you needed to know whether or not he blamed you.

Did you make a bad call by holstering your gun?

You didn’t know. Hotch still hadn’t debriefed you or taken your statement of events.

Night falls and you step into Spencer’s hospital room hesitantly. You had been haunted by the state in which you saw him last time, the trauma of it all clawing at your heart.

To your surprise, his bed is propped up and there’s a book in his hand. You smile with delight at the way he can’t help but attempt to lean forward over the book like always.

“Wow,” you say. It’s remarkable how much better he looks. Still injured, still disheveled, but so much better.

He waves at you with that flat smile he favors.

“He can’t talk right now,” Morgan informs. “But he wrote down a list,” he holds up a stack of books.

“Of course Dr. Reid wakes up from a coma and wants to read Dostoevsky,” you smile.

He doesn’t return the sentiment but grabs what appears to be a white board and marker. He starts scribbling before holding it up to you.

“How are you?” It reads.

“Sore, but alive,” you want to say ‘thanks to you’ but you refrain. Instead you take a seat on the opposite side of the bed as Morgan.

“Well now that you’re here, I think I’m going to go home and rest,” Morgan sighs and stands.

“You’ve only been here a week,” you joke. “Get out of here, we’ll call you if anything changes.”

Spencer starts scribbling on his board again.

“I’m sorry,” it says in his signature hand writing.

“For what?” You ask softly and adjust in your chair to look in his bloodshot eyes.

“That you still got hit,” it says simply and he frowns.

“Don’t apologize! You saved my life,” you respond exasperatedly. “We almost lost you Spencer. You have nothing to be sorry for,” you don’t realize it but you start pacing. “I was so mad at you for stepping in front of me. That bullet should have been for me,” you gesture at him.

His eyebrows furrow and he starts shaking his head.

“No.” He writes on the board.

You sigh and sit back down when you see that his heart rate increases significantly on the monitor.

“Are you okay?” You redirect the conversation. He thinks for a moment and you find yourself wanting to touch his hair, to comfort him. It’s a new desire, an odd one.

“They haven’t explained what happened to me. I don’t remember,” he scribbles.

“Do you want me to tell you?” You ask and place your hand on his.

He looks down at where you touch him but nods.

You tell him everything from the moment you saw him bleeding to the surgery and the coma.

“But you’re out of the woods and making great strides to recovery,” you finish.

He presses his palm into his eye socket as though his head hurts before writing again.

“Thank you. I’m okay,” is all it says.

“You’re straining your eyes by reading,” you point out when he blinks as thought his head hurts.

He nods, aware of that fact.

“Here,” you take the book from him. He lets you and points out where he left off. You begin to read to him and he lays back in the bed with a deep breath.

“…He was so obsessed with what had happened to him that he was afraid to put it into words, lest he should lose it all at once, lest he should be left with nothing. He was so possessed by the idea that he was afraid to think of anything else; he wanted to forget everything else, to think of nothing, to do nothing, to feel nothing, so as not to lose what he had gained…” you trail off.

When you glance over at him he’s gripping his journal, the pen beside him, and he’s fallen asleep.

You dim the lights and take his journal from him. You glance only at what he had dozed off writing.

‘I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.’

The quote takes you by surprise, mostly the familiarity of it. You can’t place where you’d read it before nor could you figure out why he was writing it.

Nonetheless you place the journal on the table beside him before moving to get comfortable in the recliner. You would sleep there tonight.

Sleep finds you slowly, the quote he sketched replaying in your mind. You’ll figure out where you read it tomorrow.

A/N: I just finished season 8, I had no idea until after writing this that Spence suffers a similar injury in season 9- oops.

[i-wanna-write]

Feel Alive - Bode Leone x Civilian!Reader

Request: Would you be okay with writing a Bode x fem!civilian!reader where he saves her life when the three rock crew responded to a call with the fire department and she comes by to visit Bode to thank him and they both have clear chemistry, and it’s really sweet? They both want to see each other again so they call each other all the time and she comes to visit him when she can and they start dating?

Warnings: some cuss words… I think that’s it

Word Count: 3010

A/N: My first request! I played it more into the first part of the request but am open to maybe a part 2 depending on people’s wants!! Thank you @kpopgirlbtssvt

————————————————————————

Photography is your passion. With a Masters in Journalism and a Bachelor of the Arts in photography, your job for the local newspaper was everything you loved. Getting close to the action to report anything and everything was what you always dreamed of. But being able to also capture those moments through your lense -

That is what makes you feel alive.

So whenever you had a day off, you’d take your camera and go on a hike, capturing nature through your lense. Hiking. God you absolutely love hiking. Being in nature and just listening to the birds chirp and talk to each other made you feel like you were in another word. Everything is so peaceful, so serene.

Only an hour into your hike and you cannot wait to get home to see what you’ve taken. You’ve found a bush of wild flowers and took numerous shots, watching as the sun seemed to make the pink change colors. You found a hawk resting on a branch and was able to capture its take off, wings soaring through the air.

Moments like this make you feel alive.

Sometimes you think about being a bird. How they can come and go as they please, soaring high and to places you know you’ll never reach. But at least through your lense, you’re able to live vicariously through it.

You walk down a hill, looking around and pausing as you notice the chirping has begun to cease. You hear a shrill through the air and look up to see numerous birds flying. Raising your camera, you snap a shot, watching as the birds fly away, seemingly leaving you alone.

Bringing your camera down, you hold it with both hands so you can examine this shot. You imagine it’ll look surreal, different birds flying high with the same destination in mind.

However, that’s not the feeling the shot conveys.

Instead, you zoom in on the picture and see smoke atop the trees. Lowering the camera you look up to see the said smoke, and slightly behind it, a fire.

“Fuck.” You mutter to yourself, dropping your camera and taking off down the mountain.

Your heart hammers in your chest and your breathing is harsh as you try your hardest to get farther from the forest fire. Your backpack hits against your back with every step you take, your braid whipping around every now and again to hit you in the face.

Your speed starts to slow as exhaustion starts to hit, causing you to misstep. You feel your ankle twist, a snap heard, and you bring your arms out in front to catch you as you fall.

“Ugh!” You yell in pain, knowing the snap definitely did not sound good.

The pain is definitely making you feel alive.

You press onto your hands and good foot, allowing yourself to rise. You take this moment to catch your breath and see that you were able to create some distance between yourself and the fire. You lower your injured leg down, wanting to test if you can bear weight on it.

The moment you press it onto the earth a shot of nausea hits you as pain travels up your leg. You immediately think it’s broken and give out a frustrated grown. You quickly look around and spot a large branch on the ground. You slowly hop on your uninjured leg to it and pull it up.

The branch still has leaves and twigs on it and its length is slightly longer then your height. But beggars can’t be choosers and you didn’t expect the forest to have the perfect walking stick laying around.

You place it on the side of your injured leg and grab it with both hands. You use it as a second leg, allowing you to hop on your uninjured one as you continue on, wanting more distance from the fire.

Five minutes of hopping and luck was finally in your favor. You come across a creek and, from living where forest fires are common, know that if you get across, the creek can act as a natural barrier to the forest fire.

Grumbling that you’re about to get wet, you start to make your way across the creek.

————————————————————

Bode looks around at his fellow inmates and captain as the fire is finally put out. It took them awhile to get it, but thankfully the water drop was able to help finish it off.

The fire started from a simple lit cigarette that someone discarded irresponsibly. Bose cannot believe the idiocy this person possessed. If you grew up in or near Edgewood, you knew all about the risk and safety of forest fires.

“Alright,” Manny starts, gathering everyone’s attention. “Time to head out boys.”

The inmates start to walk away from their post, ready for the day to be over and more importantly to shower, wanting the soot off their skin.

Bode starts to walk towards the way they came before a shine catches his eye. He looks around the forest floor, wondering what could be reflecting the sun to create the shine.

He spots the object and walks over as he sees a camera, and an expensive one at that. He picks it up, noticing that the lense is cracked and that caused the sun to scatter when it hit him, causing the glare.

He pressed the on button and it miraculously turned on, seeming that only the lense was damaged. He goes to look through the picture, wanting to know who’s camera it is and the most recent picture catches his eye.

Its birds flying in the sky. He can tell by the size and colors, the birds are all different yet seemed to have come together with the same destination in mind. To Bode, it’s a beautiful shot.

It makes him feel alive.

However, as he continues to stare at the image, he notices that there’s smoke in the sky. Smoke from a fire. Then he notices the time stamp. Today. Only over an hour earlier.

“Hey Cap,” Bode shouts, gathering some of the guys attention.

He starts to walk towards Manny and meets him halfway, camera in his hands.

“I found this.” He states, shoving it in his hands.

Manny looks at it for a moment before saying, “It’s a picture of birds Bode, nothing special.”

Manny goes to walk away but Bode stops him.

“Look at the time stamp.” The younger man says urgently.

Manny does and feels his stomach drop.

“There’s someone probably out there.” Bode says, starting to make his way down the hill.

“Bode!” Manny yells, grabbing his arm to stop him. “There’s no more fire. Our job is done. I’ll radio it in but it's a search and rescue job from here, not ours.”

Bode just shrugs him off and starts to pick up his pace, running down the hill in search of the cameras owner.

“Bode!” Manny yells after him. “Bode! Goddammit!”

————————————————————

You lay on the forest floor, listening as the birds have returned and they’re back to chirping. You smile slightly, happy that it probably means the fire is out.

However, you’re positive your ankle is broken. Once you passed the creek, you laid back on the ground to recover your breath and immediately felt the blood rushing to and from your ankle. Putting weight on it was not an option. But you couldn’t stay on the forest ground forever. As much as you sometimes wanted to be a bird, you kind of enjoyed being a human.

With there being no service on your phone, you came up with a game plan. You’d wait for the fire to be put out, hoping the creek would stop or slow it while you rested. From there, you’d use that time to rest before hobbling the way you came, hoping you’d run into a firefighter.

You sit up so you're leaning on your hands and sigh, knowing you should probably start the part of your palm where you trek back the way you came.

However, you don’t the chance to try as you hear leaves crunch and footsteps coming towards you.

“Hello!” A voice calls from the first. “EFD! Call out if you hear me!”

You let out a gasp/laugh before responding. “I hear you! I’m across the creek!” You yell back.

You watch as a man comes down the hill and finds you.

Your eyes widen at him. He’s huge. Broad shoulders and big arms that are corded in muscle down to his wrists. His hands are filthy, covered in soot while his arms are clean. He’s dressed in bright orange, and you know immediately he’s part of Three Rocks inmate rehab program.

But that doesn’t scare you. Cause you’re hurt, he wouldn’t be apart of the program if he was dangerous, and he’s hot.

Sue you.

His face is as attractive as his body with a strong jaw that looks to be littered with facial hair. His hair is long, past his ears and blonde. Despite the soot covering his hair and face, you cannot deny the attractiveness.

He steps closer and closer to you, slowly as if you’re a wounded animal and he doesn’t want to startle you and have you flee him. As if you could run with this ankle.

“Hi.” He says awkwardly. “I’m Bode and with the EFD at Three Rock.”

“I kind of figured based on that get up.” You state with a raised eyebrow and nodding your head to his clothes.

Bode gives you a sheepish smile and walks to you before crouching down next to you.

His eyes meet yours and you feel yourself cultivated by the blue in them. They’re so bright and remind you of a blue jay, strong and shining.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern on his face.

You laugh at that. “Do I look okay?” You ask incredulously. “My one day off in a while and I decided to go hiking and take pictures. Only a forest fire decided to start and ruin my day. And then I just had to trip and hurt myself.” You finish, gesturing to your injured ankle.

This is when Bode notices the awkward angle your ankle sits at and how your face is grimacing every now and again.

“Shit, is it okay if I look at it?” He asks.

You nod for him to go ahead and watch as he moves closer to your ankle. He seems to just observe the positioning first before his hand reaches out and he looks at you as if asking for permission. The moment his fingers briefly touch you, you yelp, trying to move away from him.

“Sorry, sorry.” He says, pulling his hand away and standing up. “I think it’s broken.”

“You think?” You question, looking at him like he’s stupid.

“You’re pretty snappy.” He states, blue eyes looking down at your.

“I just wanted some nice shots of nature but instead I broke my ankle and have been laying here the past hour hoping the fire didn’t kill me. But the rate I’m going, the pain in my ankle will kill me, so forgive me if I’m snappy!” You finish as your voices raises towards the end.

Bode sighs and nods, seeing your reason. “Sorry. But if it helps I did find this.”

You finally notice that he’s holding your camera and your breath catches. You figured the fire caught up to it and all the photos form the past week were gone. Yet here it is. Not burnt, not covered in soot, only the lense is cracked.

“My camera.” You state, grabbing it from his hands and holding it to your chest.

“I found it when we were about to head out. The lense is cracked but the sun reflected of it and caught my eye.” Bode tells you.

“Who knew that while I was trying to feel alive through the lense, the lense itself saved me.” You softly say, smiling greatly at him.

Bose smiles back and you cannot help but notice how it makes him even more attractive. It’s not fair to be that pretty.

“I know what you mean.” He states eyes staring into your own.

You give him a questionable look and he expands his thought.

“When I saw it and turned it on, I saw the last shot you took. I just saw how amazing it was that all the birds, despite their differences, were flying together. It was… nice. Peaceful. Then I saw the timestamp and realized someone was there recently.”

You smile brightly this time. You never connected with someone like this about your pictures. Your friends, family, even your colleagues looked at your pictures and saw just that - a picture. Yet here was this stranger who saw something deeper, saw something you yourself saw.

“Bode!” A voice calls and you look to see three other firefighters coming your way. You notice how one is dressed like the usual fireman while the other two are dressed similarly to Bode.

“Cap!” Bode says back, rising to his feet and walking towards the three. “She’s injured. Broken ankle I think. This is-“ Bode pauses and turns to you. “I never got your name.” He states.

“Y/N.” You state, “My name is Y/N.”

————————————————————

Two weeks later you find yourself at Three Rock, boot on your injured ankle and a plate of cookies in your hand. You wanted to thank your savior and your mom taught you baked goods go a long way.

Bode carried you through the forest and to the ambulance, where you rushed off to the hospital and X-Rays were done. They confirmed a break but thankfully you did not need surgery. A week of crutches followed by 3 weeks in a boot and then weeks of physical therapy. But at least you were alive.

After checking in for visitation, you’re told to go to the picnic tables where the inmates were with their visitors. You hobble that way and see five tables lined up with different people dressed in orange sitting at them.

You spot Bode, his clothes and self now cleaned of the soot and you notice his clothes are more casual then the day in the forest. An older man sits at the table across from him, his hair dark and a mustache on his face. He’s dressed in jeans and a camo t-shirt and you spot the resemblance between him and Bode.

You don’t want to interrupt so you just watch as the two converse, respecting the time Bode is getting with whom you assume is his father. Bode laughs at something and his face lights up, his eyes moving around before they spot you.

You give him a shy smile and blue eyes meet Y/E/C eyes and he says something to his father before standing from the table and making his way to you. Now standing, no longer laying on the forest floor or being in his arms, you notice how much taller he is than you. Almost a foot taller.

“Hey stranger.” You greet, smile not leaving your face.

“Hey snappy,” he says back, coming to rest against the wall of the holding next to you.

You roll your eyes and look away, butterflies moving in your stomach. This man’s face is something else.

It makes you feel alive.

You turn back to see him staring at you and you bring the cookies up and towards him.

“I wanted to say thank you - for saving my life.” You say, cookies proudly on display with a n envelope wrapped on the bottom.

“I hardly saved your life.” He states, grabbing the plate from you. “And you didn’t have to give me anything.”

“I kinda did. I get snappy when I’m hurt and don’t like help from people. But you did find my camera and I don’t want to think what would’ve happened if you didn’t find me. Best case scenario, I would’ve hobbled my way back to civilization and needed surgery for my ankle. Worse case I died.”

Bode laughs at this and shakes his head, a smile still on his face.

“Do you maybe want to sit,” he asks, gesturing to the table.

“I’d love you.” You start. “But I have a check up I have to get to.”

Bose nods, not letting his disappointment show. He really wanted to get to know you. Just talk to you. Know more about you.

“But,” You start again, “Would it be okay if maybe I called you sometime?”

Bose smiles widely and nods. “I’d like that.” He states. “I - yes, you can.”

“Perfect!” You say, wincing at yourself with how happy you sounded. Hopefully Bode doesn’t notice. “Um, I should probably let you get back to your visit but just -“

Gaining confidence you lean forward and press your lips to his cheek, kissing him lightly. You pull back, a blush on both your cheeks now

“Thank you.” You say softly before turning around and walking back to your car

————————————————————

Bode walks back to the table his father sits at and sets the cookies down. He’s happy. The girl is gorgeous but it’s not just her looks. She’s quirky, and sarcastic, and has made him feel happy. Something he hasn’t felt in a while.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” His dad asks, eyebrows raised with a knowing look on his face.

Bode just asks innocently and replies, “Just someone thanking me.”

His dad doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t say anything to which Bode is grateful.

He slowly unwraps the cookies, something he doesn’t get the luxury of having often. As he undoes the plastic wrap on it, he feels something on the bottom and pulls it away to look at it.

It’s a print of the birds flying. The one he found on the camera the day he met Y/N. He turns the card around and sees a note.

‘To feeling alive’ xo Y/N

Bode stares at that and smiles, this time, feeling alive.

————————————————————————

A/N: Hope you guys liked it!!!

[jiarkives]

home

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — nanami didn’t see himself in kuantan, he saw himself with you.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — nanami kento (jujutsu kaisen)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — angst, major character death

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — i haven’t gotten around to watching the rest of season 2 because of nanami’s death so pls forgive and ignore the inaccuracies 😇 also, reader is shorter/smaller than nanami

~

“Try not to stay overtime tonight,” you chirped as you kissed your husband’s cheek, seeing him out the door as he left for work. “I have a surprise for you.”

“I’ll make sure to be home on time, my love.” He gave you the small but sweet smile he only ever gives you, making you swoon. Even after years of being together, he never fails to bring butterflies in your stomach as he showed his love in so many ways.

As he walked out the door, you can’t help but call him back, “Wait, Ken.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face you. He knew he was going to be late. You knew he liked routines and hated it when they were broken, but that’s you. He would break every routine he has to cater to your needs.

You stepped closer to him and stood on your tiptoes as you placed a soft kiss on his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck. Almost immediately, he kissed you back, his hands on your hips.

When you pulled away, you looked him over, just like you do every time he left for work, but this time, you looked at him longer. This time, you felt compelled to as you whispered, worry flashing over your eyes, “Be careful out there, alright?”

He smiled at you in assurance, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. “I always am careful, my love. I have to get back home to you.”

Hours had passed since then. Nanami scowled as his eyes glanced briefly at his wristwatch. He was supposed to be home to you hours ago, yet here he was, running through the subway station as he exorcised curses left and right.

He was already planning on how to apologize to you when he got home. He was going to buy your favorite bread from the bakery if they were still open by the time he finished and cook for you for the whole week. Then, he abruptly stopped.

~

Nanami stepped into your shared home, the aroma of the food you were cooking immediately hit his senses, causing a smile to grow on his face.

He removed his coat and loosened his tie as he walked over to the kitchen, immediately seeing you in your own element as you cooked dinner for the both of you. He leaned against the wall as he continued watching you with a soft, fond smile on his lips when you turned around and your eyes immediately landed on him.

You glared at him playfully as you pointed the wooden spatula at him, “You’re late.”

“I know, my love, I’m so sorry.” He chuckled lightly as he walked over to you, his arms winding around you to pull you closer to him as he peppered your face in kisses.

“I told you I had a surprise for you.” Your lips curled downward in a small frown.

“I know, honey, I know. It won’t happen again, I promise,” he spoke softly, holding you close to him. “I’m here now, and I’m ready to know what your surprise is.”

~

Nanami breathed heavily, the immense pain shooting through his body with every breath he took. He could slowly feel the life leaving him, but all he could think of was you.

How were you feeling? Were you worried? Will you be okay?

Then, he slowly smiled as he thought, you’ll be okay. You’re strong. Stronger than he ever was, stronger than he will ever be.

He only had enough time to utter your name under his breath adoringly before he was gone.

~

You woke with a start, your heart beating out of your ribcage and sweat forming on your forehead as you lurched forward, sitting up on your bed.

Your arm instinctively reached out to Nanami’s side of the bed only to feel nothing but the cold sheets that haven’t been touched in over a week. You retracted your hand as if it the cloth had burned it despite its coolness.

It had only been a week since the incident, but you could no longer find it in you to cry. All you could do was lay in bed all day as you stared at the wall blankly. At times, you get up to drink a few glasses of cold water before going back to the bedroom.

And every time you step into the room, your eyes fall instinctively, not on Nanami’s untouched side of the bed, but on your nightstand where two pieces of paper lay.

Every time, you move to pick it up, letting your eyes roam the contents of the papers before tossing them back down, leaving the plane tickets abandoned on your nightstand.

Oh, Kuantan, you are nothing but a distant dream now.