#and then i hear it and i'm SO STUNNED BY JUST HOW RAW IT IS HSDJKSS LIKE

[saltpepperbeard]

Taika and Rhys: we're comedians so drama can be harder for us sometimes Me: ARE-YOU-SURE-ABOUT-THAT.GIF

[wingedhallows]

⟿ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒

✩.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 racer!vi x gf!reader / 0.8 k words ✩.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 strong language, slight angst ✩.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 Vi’s used to life at full throttle — sharp turns, roaring crowds, and flirting with danger at every lap. But when the woman she loves runs onto the track mid-race to save her from a stuffed bear, everything screeches to a halt. What starts as fury quickly unravels into fear, and Vi’s left facing the one thing she can’t outrun: the thought of losing her. ✩.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i loooove racer!vi and this is just the beginning !! i'm trying out new character arcs and i hope u're as excited as me :)

♡︎ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ♡︎

The race roared on — a blur of engine growls and rubber screaming against pavement. Vi was in the zone, takin’ turns sharp, her grip on the wheel like a vice, tires skimming the ragged edge of control. Sweat stung her brow under the helmet, but her eyes were steady, locked on the line, lap after lap like a heartbeat.

Then the crowd erupted — not the good kind of roar. No cheers. No gasps of awe.

It was the sound of something wrong.

Vi’s stomach dropped before her eyes even caught it. Just ahead, a flash of something small, brown, and soft — a teddy bear, ragdoll-limp and out of place on the cold black stretch of track. She barely had time to blink, to wonder who the hell—

And then she saw you.

Running.

A sunburst in the chaos. That stupid little yellow dress you loved fluttering in the wind, legs bare, sneakers slapping against the tarmac like you hadn’t just stepped into the jaws of death. Like it was nothing.

Like she wouldn’t die if anything happened to you.

“Shit—!” She slammed the brakes so hard her whole rig shuddered, fishtailing as the tires screamed. Her crew was yelling, scrambling in the pit, but it all faded behind the thundering of her pulse in her ears.

She tore her helmet off the second the car stopped, tossing it aside without a thought. Her boots hit the pavement hard as she bolted from the cockpit, chest tight, jaw locked so hard her teeth ached.

You were just barely past the barriers, clutching that damn bear to your chest like it was worth more than your life.

She was on you in seconds, heat rolling off her in waves, fury barely leashed behind her stormy eyes.

“What in hell’s name was that, darlin’?” Her voice cracked like a whip, low and laced with thunder.

You blinked, wide-eyed, voice soft and small. “I… I didn’t want you to hit it—”

“You ran onto the track for a toy?” Her voice sharpened, slicing through the air. “You runnin’ out there like you ain’t got a damn care in the world?”

You flinched as she stepped closer, and she hated that — hated how her hands found your arms a little too rough, how her fear bled out as anger. “That was a live track, sweetheart. You know what that means? That’s not a game. That’s a goddamn death sentence.”

“I just—” you started, but your voice faltered under the weight of her fury.

“You don’t just anything,” she hissed, trembling now, grip tightening before she caught herself and pulled back a little. “That ain’t brave, that’s reckless. That’s mine out there in danger and I ain’t—” Her voice broke, just for a second. “I ain’t standin’ for it.”

Your lips parted, stunned. Silent. You’d never seen her like this.

Vi’s breath hitched as she stared at you, eyes glassy, raw. All that rage— it was just fear, stripped bare. Her chest rose and fell like she’d just run a marathon. Then, slowly, she leaned in, forehead resting against yours, her hands gentling against your arms.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she whispered, the words ragged, choked by everything she couldn’t say. “You scared the hell outta me. I’ll tear this whole damn track apart before I let you get hurt like that.”

Her voice trembled, thick with tears she’d never let fall in public. “You’re everything to me, you hear? You don’t get to throw yourself in front of a fuckin’ car just ‘cause you’ve got a heart bigger than your common sense.”

You were still holding the bear, fingers curled tight in its worn fur. Slowly, you leaned into her touch, pressing your forehead back against hers.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, voice cracking. “I just… I saw it there and I thought of you. I thought— if you hit it, if it messed up your car—”

“I can fix a damn car,” she said, voice thick. “I can’t fix losing you.”

The silence that followed was loud — the kind that wraps around two people who’ve just realized how close they came to breaking. She pulled you in then, holding you so tight you could feel her heartbeat racing like it was still out there on the track.

Only now, it was just for you.

[musubi05]

╰┈➤ I'm Sorry Part 2

Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Summary: A hunt went wrong because you made a mistake and someone accidentally got hurt. You're 14-15.

Warnings: Yelling, mentions of blood, angsty

Authors note: Hopefully it's as good as the first one 😭 I was spacing out so much trying to write it so my brain was not braining.

The minutes stretched endlessly after Dean left, each second pressing down on your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake. The motel room was too quiet, yet your mind was screaming. You could still hear the gunshot, still see Sam’s body jerking from the impact, still feel the warmth of his blood against your hands.

Dean was right. You had almost lost Sam. And it was your fault.

Your hands were still trembling slightly as you sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the cracked wallpaper. The cheap floral print blurred as your eyes stung with unshed tears. Your fingers were stiff with dried blood—Sam’s blood—sticking in the creases of your knuckles, clinging to your skin like it was never going to come off.

You felt numb, but somehow still sick to your stomach. You forced yourself up to get into the shower, hoping it would help make you feel clean but it didn't. You had tried scrubbing the blood off, but no matter how raw you made your hands, the stain wouldn’t fade. Even though you saw a tint of red water go down the drain.

The faint sound of the clock ticking on the wall was maddening when you laid back down on the bed. Each second that passed felt heavier, heavier, and heavier. You wished Dean would just come back, even if it was to yell at you more. At least then you wouldn’t be stuck with your own thoughts.

The thoughts that were reminding you it was your fault. The thoughts that were telling you Sam was dead.

"The doctors couldn't save Sam," Dean would say. "It should be you not him." Which would lead you to listen to him and go sell your soul for Sam to be brought back.

Your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails biting into your palms, desperate for something—anything—to ground you. But nothing could distract you from the image of Sam collapsing. The dull look in his eyes. The blood pooling around him.

Your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, a broken sob slipped out. You clapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut, shoulders shaking as you struggled to contain it. You didn’t deserve to cry. Not when Sam was the one who got hurt. Not when Dean could barely look at you.

The door creaked open softly. You stiffened, expecting to see Dean storming in again, still angry, still ready to rip you apart with his words. You turned over to your other side to face him.

But it was Sam.

He was pale and unsteady on his feet, leaning against the doorframe for support. His face was still gaunt from the blood loss, and his bandaged torso was hidden beneath a loose flannel that was slightly too big for him. You realized with a twist in your chest that he must’ve signed himself out of the hospital early. Typical Winchester.

“Sam?” You shot up from the bed, rushing toward him, but he held up a weak hand to stop you.

“Hey,” he rasped softly, offering a tired smile. “I’m okay.”

You stared at him, stunned by stupid statement. He was shot. He was barely standing. He was not okay.

Without another word, you rushed to his side and slipped under his arm, helping him to the bed despite his half-hearted protests. You sat beside him, bracing his weight until he was lying back against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

“Did you seriously check yourself out?” you muttered, shaking your head.

Sam chuckled lightly, wincing as he shifted. “You know me.”

You swallowed, guilt twisting sharply in your gut again. He was trying to make light of it, to put you at ease. Of course he was. That was Sam. Always more worried about everyone else than himself.

For a long moment, you just stared at your hands, fingers still smeared faintly with his blood. The room was quiet, except for the sound of Sam’s slightly labored breathing.

“You should hate me,” you finally whispered.

Sam blinked, frowning slightly. “What?”

You glanced at him, barely able to meet his eyes. “You should hate me for what I did. For being so reckless. For getting you hurt,” your voice wavered, and you looked away quickly. “Dean does.”

Sam’s expression softened immediately. “Hey.” He reached over, grasping your hand weakly, his palm warm despite his shaky grip. “Dean doesn’t hate you. He’s just—”

“Mad. I know,” you cut in. “And he should be. You almost died because of me, Sam.” Your voice cracked, and you pulled your hand from his, not able to bear the gentleness in his touch.

Sam exhaled softly, watching you carefully. “I’m not dead,” he said quietly. “And I’m not gonna hate you, Y/N.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You should.”

“Stop,” Sam insisted, his voice firmer this time. He reached for your hand again, his grip a little stronger now. “I’ve made mistakes, too. We all have. Hell, Dean’s made plenty of reckless calls that could’ve gotten me killed. And you know what I did?” He arched a tired eyebrow. “I forgave him. Just like I forgive you. That’s how this family works.”

You swallowed hard, unable to speak. Your eyes burned, and you quickly wiped at them with the sleeve of your hoodie. You didn’t deserve his forgiveness. Not this easily. Not after nearly losing him.

Sam squeezed your hand once before leaning back against the headboard, his eyes starting to droop with exhaustion. “You’re not a screw-up,” he muttered softly, voice thick with fatigue. “You saved our asses back there. Even if it wasn’t pretty.”

You stared at him, speechless, as he let out a slow, heavy breath and drifted into a light sleep. His chest rose and fell steadily, but the soft winces that flashed across his face with every breath made your stomach clench.

And then, as if on cue, the door creaked open again.

Dean walked in, still tense, his eyes immediately flickering toward Sam. His gaze softened slightly when he saw his brother sleeping peacefully, but when he turned his attention to you, the hardness in his eyes returned.

You met his gaze for only a second before quickly looking down at your hands again. You waited for him to say something—anything—but he just stood there, lingering near the door. The silence was suffocating.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Dean let out a long breath and slowly made his way over. His boots were heavy against the creaky floorboards. You felt him sit down beside you on the edge of the bed, but you still couldn’t look at him.

For a long moment, he said nothing. The tension hung in the air, thick and heavy.

Then, finally, his voice came—low and hoarse. “You scared the hell outta me.”

Your throat tightened. “I know,” you whispered.

Dean let out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “I told you to stay in the car for a reason, Y/N.”

“I was trying to help—”

“I don’t care!” His voice cracked slightly, louder than he intended, and Sam stirred slightly.

"I don't care what you wanted!" Your dads voice echoed through your mind.

Dean immediately fell silent, waiting until Sam settled before speaking again. His voice was lower this time but still strained. “You could’ve died.”

You clenched your fists in your lap, your fingernails going back into your palms. “So could you.”

Dean’s eyes snapped to you. You turned to face him, blinking back the tears threatening to fall.

“I’m not gonna just sit back and watch you and Sam die,” you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. “I can’t.”

Dean’s eyes softened slightly, but his expression was still pained. He swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time that night, you saw the fear behind his anger—the sheer terror that had been boiling beneath the surface.

“If something had happened to you…” He shook his head, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t lose you, too.”

Your throat closed up, and without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his hand. His fingers curled around yours, warm and rough and calloused, but familiar. Safe.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just sat there in the heavy silence, hands clasped together.

Finally, Dean’s voice came out quieter. Hoarse. “Just… don’t do that again, okay?”

You nodded slowly, gripping his hand a little tighter.

“I mean it,” he added, giving you a pointed look.

“I know.”

He let out a slow, shaky breath, then finally—finally—he squeezed your hand back. It wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But it was a start.

⛧

The room was dark and quiet, save for the sound of Sam’s slow, steady breathing. His chest rose and fell softly, the strain of pain still subtly etched in his face even in sleep.

After the talk with Dean, you both agreed to head to get some rest. Only problem is that you couldn't go to bed that easily. Dean was passed out on his bed while you were staring at the ceiling on the motel couch. Just... thinking.

You looked over at Sam and should’ve felt some relief that he was okay. That the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital. That he was still here, breathing, healing. But the weight in your chest hadn’t lifted. If anything, it had only grown heavier.

You looked back up at the ceiling but before you knew it, your eyes drifted out of focus, the edges of the room blurring into the shadows of the past.

~6 Years Ago~

The dingy motel room smelled like old cigarette smoke and mildew. The wallpaper was peeling at the corners, and the single flickering lamp barely cast enough light to chase away the shadows stretching across the walls.

You sat curled up on the bed, clutching your knees to your chest, your tiny fingers digging into the fabric of your jeans. Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to the argument unfolding between John and Dean.

“I told you to watch her, Dean!” John’s voice was sharp, edged with frustration and exhaustion.

“I was watching her!” Dean stood his ground, jaw tight, shoulders squared even though his voice wavered slightly. “She was fine! I just went to grab the salt from the car, and—”

“She could’ve gotten killed,” John cut him off, voice like gravel. His eyes flicked toward you, pinning you to the bed like a spotlight. “And you—what were you thinking, running after that damn spirit?”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I-I thought I could help,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

John let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Help? You thought running in there, getting in the way, was helping?” He shook his head, pacing in front of you like he couldn’t even look at you. “You wanna be useful? Then learn your damn place.”

Your stomach twisted.

“You don’t fight, you don’t hunt, you don’t go running into danger,” John continued, his voice firm, unwavering. “You do what you’re told. You keep your head down. You help us—but you never get in the way.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the blanket beneath you with trembling fingers. “I just wanted to—”

“I don’t care what you wanted,” John snapped. “You listen. You wait. You help the way you’re supposed to.” He crouched down slightly, lowering his voice, but somehow that made it worse. “You wanna be part of this family? Then act like it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you nodded quickly, desperate to make him stop looking at you like that.

John exhaled sharply and stood up, rubbing a hand over his face. He didn’t say anything else—just grabbed his duffel, muttered something to Dean about locking the doors, and walked out.

For a moment, the room was silent. The weight of his words still hung heavy in the air, pressing down on your chest.

Then, Dean sat down beside you on the bed.

“Hey,” he said softly, nudging your shoulder. His voice was tired, but not angry. Not like John’s. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, blinking back the tears.

Dean was quiet for a long moment before he sighed, running a hand through his short hair. “Look… Dad’s just—he’s just stressed, alright? He doesn’t mean half the crap he says.”

But you both knew that wasn’t true.

Still, Dean shot you a small, lopsided smile. “You wanna help? You can help. Just… next time, maybe don’t go charging after a ghost with a damn broomstick, alright?”

Despite yourself, you let out a tiny, shaky laugh.

“Tell you what,” Dean continued, nudging you again. “Next hunt? You can be on water duty. Sam’s always forgetting to drink, anyway.”

You nodded, a small bit of warmth replacing the cold pit in your stomach. It wasn’t much—but it was something. A purpose. A way to help without getting in the way.

And that’s what you did. Every hunt. Every time. You made sure you were useful. You made sure you helped.

Because if you weren’t helping, what were you even doing here?

“Sweetheart?”

Dean’s voice pulled you out of the memory, bringing you crashing back to the dim motel room. Sam was still sleeping soundly. Dean was staring at you, brows furrowed, eyes scanning your face like he could see the ghosts haunting you. When did he get up?

You blinked quickly, clearing your throat. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”

Dean studied you for a second longer before exhaling. With no warning he scooped your body into his arms, lifting you up from your previous spot.

"Dean, what are you doing?" You asked immediately gripping his shirt do he didn't drop you—not like he ever would.

"Helping you sleep," he said, his voice was coated with exhaustion. Maybe helping you sleep will help him sleep better.

You didn't want to argue with him and say you're fine so you let him bring you over to his bed. He put you on the bed first before laying next to you.

Dean sighed, he put his arm around you to keep you close to his side. Your head was resting on his chest with your arm draped around his torso. “I'm sorry I keep yelling at you—” He stopped, jaw tightening, like he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say. “I don’t want you to think that helping means running headfirst into danger, alright? You don’t have to prove anything to me. Or to Sam.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “I know.”

“Do you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Do you really?

You hesitated, but after a long moment, you finally nodded. “I’m working on it.”

Dean didn’t look fully convinced, but he didn’t push. He just sighed again and nudged your arm lightly. “Good.”

For a long while, you both just laid there, the weight of the night still thick in the air—but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it was crushing you.

Dean wasn’t angry anymore. Sam was safe. And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to prove your worth by risking your life.

Maybe just being here was enough.

Tag list:

@marvelfanfn2187a113 @samlou

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 3)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

-

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, breeding, obsessive behavior, horny sorcerers, idiots in love, being the willing pet of your senseis, best friend! Megumi, Jealous! Megumi, anal plug, Secret Relationship, Domestic Fluff, falling in love, Pregnancy Kink, Hurt/Comfort, smut, rough sex, shameless smut, creampie, explicit sexual consent, sexual tension, shameless flirting, scratching.

-

"Hello, I'm home." They heard their adopted son shout from the floor below, both clean up as best they could, pulling a t-shirt over their heads and adjusting their pants so they could go down. "I brought (Y/N) for dinner, I hope you don't mind."

Megumi continued saying to his parents, or as he tagged them, guardians. A little taken aback by their unusually, stunned faces.

"...Is there a problem?" Megumi asked them, airily. The young sorcerer almost looked radiant, besides his usual stoic expression. Yes! There was a fuckin’ problem, even so, they numbly shook their heads until Suguru found his voice again.

"N-No problem, Megumi. You're always welcome, (Y/N)."

You looked just as bewildered as them if not more. The only one unaware of the tense discomfort, Megumi, who actually looked quite satisfied. Both professors just couldn't stop following you with their astonished gazes while their set the table and prepare dinner, growing something beyond confused and why not, jealous… since what was driving them internally crazy was the infuriating fact that from the moment you set foot inside the house and until that moment: Megumi and you were holding hands.

Numbly, Suguru went straight into the kitchen to start doing dinner while you and Megumi followed Gojo to the living room, each hit of the knife against the wood could almost go through the cutting board at how hard Geto was hitting. The black-haired man loved Megumi more than his own life, but right now he felt his blood boiling and it bothered him a lot, it had been years since he had felt the nasty sting of jealousy, like a hormonal teenager, raw and nasty.

“My adorable students,” Gojo huffed, wearing a thin grin full of hidden contempt, “I hope that during your stay in the library this afternoon you also did your homework and not just used the prohibited book aisle to suck face.”

Suguru snickered low at hearing Gojo’s comment in his usual playful tone, but he could easily see beneath the act. The cynicism and annoyance that his cheerful smile actually hid. Gojo was as confused and mad as him, if not more.

“Behave.” Megumi scolded with a deep frown, cheeks dusting red at his tutor's inappropriate comment, “…it's none of your business what we do or don't do in the library—”

Gojo laughed loudly, cheerful and carefree, his playful but annoying personality doing its best to make Megumi uncomfortable enough that he had to leave the room, so he could have a moment alone with you, the white-haired sensei playing nasty since he felt his loins, burning and inflamed to know what was going on between you two.

“Megumi-kun, I'm just joking, there's no need to get defensive, my boy.” Gojo shared between chuckles. “I know what it's like to be young and in love—”

Megumi huffed, irritated, passing a rough hand through his hair to then squeeze your hand in his, the mere act brought him so much comfort he felt his back muscles immediately relax, with a sideway glance noticed the crimson dusting your cheeks as well, and his stomach danced with butterflies at knowing you might be feeling as flustered as he did. 

“Suguru-san.” Megumi called to his other tutor for support. 

“Satoru, knock it off.” His scolding was heard from the kitchen. “—Leave the lovebirds be.” He teased back to Megumi’s dismay, and you giggled adorably, forcing yourself to do it as natural as you could to lower the growing tension. 

You succeeded, since Megumi turn to look at you with a soft, light grin on his face. “So glad that at least you find it funny.” He said in all honesty and to Gojo’s growing despair and frustration, had to witness first-hand how his adoptive son lifted your hooked hands to place a soft, tender smooch in the back of your palm. That lovesick expression in his boy’s face beyond painful to him.

Your cheeks lit up like live fire, and Megumi's follow, and Gojo's as well… but for a totally different reason.

Out of the sudden, Megumi's gaze, full of adoration, felt unbearably heavy on you. You gulped once, and you could almost swear heard Gojo snort, but you couldn’t know for sure since you refused to meet his face, instead you broke eye contact almost as if Megumi’s gaze were burning holes in you.

“H-How rude of me, I'm going to see if Suguru-san needs assistance with dinner-…” 

“Suguru-sensei.” Gojo corrected in a tedious tone, out of habit and ended up clearing his throat awkwardly to quickly change the subject and disguise the slip. 

"A-And why didn't Yuji and Nobara came along, it would have been great, like when you were on first year..."

Gojo start and you hurried to stand up and leave the room. Leaving Megumi and Gojo behind, your shoulders felt less rigid, and oxygen began to flood your system normally again, you entered the kitchen with the hint of a strained smile and were immediately greeted by Suguru Geto in an apron. 

“(Y/N),” he greeted you, “how thoughtful, you didn't have to bother.” 

“It's n-no bother Suguru-san,” you said almost timidly, wearing slow, measured steps to approach him, you were reluctant when suddenly Suguru made room for you to join him in chopping vegetables. 

“Let's see how skilled you are with the knife—” he said loudly so that it could be heard outside and once he noticed that Megumi's attention was totally captured by Satoru’s incessant ramblings, he asked in a conspiratorial whisper. 

"Are you two a couple?" your current lover questioned in a firm, icy whisper.

You shook your head, weakly.

“Don’t lie to me, pup—” This time he sounded close to angry.

“I’m not lying to you,” you assured in an equally firm whisper, “—We….” You made a meaningful pause to collect your thoughts and slowly Suguru’s hands stop chopping, waiting for you to continue. 

“You?” he pushed, and at your lack of speech, grunted. “You...” he stressed to crash with the same frustrating silence, and fed up, gave some choices for you to choose. “Maybe you…. you find it exciting to fuck our adopted son under our own roof while we sleep in the next room?”

Your head turn so fast to him that even your neck creaked. Eyes opening wide at his strong statement, never have you ever seen Suguru Geto mad, not in all these years as his student and fellow sorcerer… and somehow, he was way scarier than Gojo could ever be. Those deep, sharp eyes piercing you like obsidian daggers.

“N-No… I don’t…. this isn’t exciting at all…” you tried to put your ideas in order but were failing miserably, his hard gaze pulverizing your anxious mind, “Suguru-san-”

“What is it, (Y/N)?” 

Out of the blue, Geto flipped your body around rather violent, so your ass ending up pressed against the counter as his thick arms caged you under his massive frame against the same, his face slowly closing the gap. “Tell me, pup. Did you suck his cock after we left you? Does Megumi’s cum tastes better than his daddy’s?” 

You froze. Suguru was awfully intimidating, he was certainly seeing red. Even so, had never treated you like this, so contemptuously, so rude and haughty... and that lit a fuse in you, the same fuse that had given you the strength to seduce your sensei in the first place was now prompting you to defend yourself from his wrong accusations, with the same arrogance. 

“—I don't know what Megumi's cum tastes like, Suguru-san, I haven't sucked him off..." you stated, finding your courage, "...but if he’s something like his parents, who fuck me every second of the day without even asking me anymore" you smashed his misdoings to his face, and the professor’s lip twitched a little, "he's surely going to give me a taste today, whether I wants it or not."

He chuckled dismissively, and stopped himself from turn you around, press you hard against the vegetable chopping table and fuck you stupid like he wanted to—that attitude of yours made you awfully enticing. But in fact, if you wanted to play the self-righteous victim with him, he can play the same card outstandingly well.

“I never heard you complaining when I screwed you on top of the desk of my office after classes,” he recalled rather cynic, his patience thinning second by second. His thick, muscular chest gluing to your front as he sluggishly dug his leg between your thighs, “… I never heard you complaining while you came on my tongue praying my name or my husband's," he reminded you of your own sins and how gladly you committed the crimes that now you threw at his face. You squirmed and trashed under him, and he grinned pleased, slowly beginning to sway his leg, back and forward, to spark alive that sensitive bundle of nerves that drive you feral. It was amusing how Suguru couldn't tell if the blush on your cheeks was from shame or anger, “—or when Satoru buried his long, fat cock deep inside this slutty ass…” his big, powerful hand squeezed your buttcheek until the fat slip between his fingers and you had to bite your lip to contain the needy moan. Suguru Geto chuckled, low and darkly. "...Right now, I don't hear you complaining, on the contrary, you look insurmountably pleased riding my thigh."

You whimpered and nodded, unable to form words when your lips were stuck harshly bitten between your teeth. 

“Yeah, thought so.”

Smirking devilishly at having you so easily at his mercy, his thumb worked its cruel intentions replacing his thigh and circled your clit, outrageously delicious. The pathetic gasp he received in turn made him chuckle. 

“Does my pretty pup want to come on my thumb?" His thumb pressed harder, and your head fell back, eyes tightly shut. “Somehow you don't strike me as the victim in all of this-”

“I’m—” You practically hiccupped through a whine, eyes squeezed shut, readying yourself to burst, you needed it, you wanted it. This was way more enticing that any other occasion, perhaps, was the fact that it was forbidden... not that it wasn't before but now you could see what was a stake, not only your reputation was on the line this time and that simple fact, was immensely trilling. “Ple—Please Suguru-san....”

Geto's assault continued, he wouldn't deny it, he was pumped, having Megumi and Gojo on the other room while he undid you on his fingers against the kitchen counter had him painfully hard. 

"I asked you a question, pup." Pressing his face against your cheek, you felt him grind you harder against the counter, grinning his wicked grin as he brushed up on your clit roughly, it felt unfairly good and you whimpered, like a wounded animal. Your hands crushing the carrots scattered under to resist Geto’s merciless fingering. 

You shook your head, you were stubborn and a headstrong, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction. “No—”

“Yes.”

You shook it more vigorously now, and your hands rushed to perch on his strong shoulders for leverage. “No.”

“Yes, pup,” he breathed, laughing. "Such a stubborn pup, we have." He purred, devilishly and you felt like soft, melting butter spread on freshly made bread. “I love Megumi more than I care for my own life—” he stated.

"And I don't care how thrilling it feels," He knew because was experiencing it firsthand, "you're not going to hurt him!" he spat severely and you shook your head, without knowing that he was saying those words to himself, urging himself to behave for his son’s good. "I'll be damn if I let anyone hurt him-"

“I’m not, I love M-Megumi too,” you insisted, eyes wrenching themselves open to look at him. His lips were trembling, out of fury or pleasure you didn’t know. Nevertheless, there was a pinch of wicked amusement in his eye, he couldn´t hide it. Suguru Geto was depravedly amused by the situation he got himself in, guiltily pleased and thrilled, but still remarkably composed for how ruthlessly he was teasing you. “I just–”

He waited; all his attention poured in your next words.

"I just want you and Satoru sensei, so bad-"

He snorted a laugh, and you feared the sound would bring someone upon the spectacle. 

“Seriously?” Geto wondered, fingers coiled around your panties and shoved against your heated flesh. Your sultry pussy, wet and welcomingly, warm to his touch.

You nodded, and he shook his head. 

"Then why Megumi?" He muttered. 

For the first time, though everything up until this point he had felt cruelly driven, your mere presence spring him to action, turning him into this shameless, imitation of a worthy man, who truly only wanted you for himself. He felt his cock twitch, and his mouth water at eye-opening revelation. HIS, you, being his and only his. His pups growing inside your belly, so full of him, branded from the inside out. 

After a couple of contemplative seconds, he hummed in denial of his own desires and force himself to forget what he had just learn about himself to instead ask again. "I asked you a question, (Y/N). Why Megumi?" 

“I-I” you stuttered, face going hot with embarrassment and guilt, "I couldn't-… I couldn't say no." you finally revealed, hiding behind your eyelids as if it would help mitigate the fluster, you were so fucking close, inching that sweet orgasm with each wicked rub of his masterful fingers… and then he stopped.

Suguru Geto sighed, long and deep, craning his neck so his forehead bumped your shoulder, where ended up depositing a chaste kiss before letting go of you, uncaging you from his massive frame, spined on his heels and pass a hand through his disheveled, long hair, burdensomely.

You were left heaving and panting, sweaty and heated cheeks slowly cooling down at the lack of friction. Your breathing slowly growing normal and even, equally placid as frustrating at not having reach the promised glory.

Your body immediately missed him. The cold he left behind felt wrong, not having him nested between your thighs felt wrong, not having him working your clit while wearing your name out felt nefariously wrong, you wanted him back in your arms… so bad.

"So, you choose him over us." The tall sorcerer snorted a cruel chuckle, his broad back to you, making it impossible for him to see you deny your head. "I get it, Megumi's dangerously handsome for such a timid boy—"

"You are not wrong," you replied, acknowledging his previous statement, and he grinned, defeatedly. "Megumi is dangerously handsome…. but I don't want him," your small hands snaked indiscriminately fearless and possessive around his waist, "I want, and I chose you and Gojo." 

His relieved sigh rumbled through his strong back even when the sound never left his mouth. You grinded harder against him and repeated firmer. "You, Gojo and me."

Geto smiled, letting his head fall back and cuddle on the crown of your head. 

"You are not just saying what I want to hear, are you, pup?"

You shook your head, hugging him harder and burying your face deeper against his warm back. "I don't want Megumi...-" you made a meaningful pause and Geto waited with the little patience he had left. "—Nevertheless, he wants me."

Geto's eyebrows furrowed and carefully turning around pushed you in all gentleness by the shoulders to look straight at your blushing face. 

"Did he finally declare his feelings to you?"

You were surprised when the words left his mouth. Your mind unable to processing what you had just heard.

"D-Did you know?"

PART 4

⭕️ Find in my PATREON NSFW art from this chapter and more NSFW art of the story and lots of content from JJK, exclusive smut fanfiction and more interesting stuff. ;)

[solxamber]

Hello! I saw that you said it was fine to request still, so if it's alright I'll give you my thoughts/promt if it's fine by you.

Also wanted to say i love you're fanfics! Super entertaining and well written so i was wondering if you could write one that's Vil x mermaid! Reader (romantic) the prompt is-

Vil has been slowly falling in love with the reader; not just by her beauty but her personality the two have these little meet ups where she sings/the two talk endlessly and just enjoy eachothers company, but what I'm getting with this,is that Vil would take time to process his feelings but eventually he gets there and confesses. Maybe it could be a friends x lovers?

whatever you want to do with this idea is cool beans, I just really want to see what you come up with!! Alright,that's all much love ♡♡

Vil Schoenheit x Mermaid! Reader

the idea is so big brained!!! I hope you like it <3

Vil has always appreciated beauty. He lives and breathes it—the art of refinement, the craft of elegance. But lately, beauty has taken on a new form for him, and it looks suspiciously like you. He can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but he knows it’s tied to those secret meetups you two share by the shoreline.

You’re a mermaid, and you make a point to remind him of that every time he mentions something about the "unbearable" human world. You always roll your eyes dramatically, your tail shimmering in the moonlight as you laugh at his over-the-top complaints about fashion disasters, inferior skincare routines, or the latest scandal in the entertainment industry.

"You humans are so fragile," you often tease, resting your chin on your hand as you float lazily in the water. "Honestly, Vil, it’s a wonder you haven’t all crumbled under the weight of your own drama."

He gives you a sharp look every time, but there’s always a trace of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "And yet, here you are, meeting up with one of these fragile humans every week."

"I didn’t say you weren’t entertaining," you retort with a sly grin. "It’s like watching a soap opera, except with more skincare tips."

Vil chuckles, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, which somehow manages to stay flawless even in the salty sea breeze. "You’d be lost without my advice. I’ve seen your seaweed face masks."

You pretend to gasp, putting a hand to your chest. "Seaweed is a perfectly valid skincare ingredient! In fact, it’s far superior to that toxic concoction you call moisturizer."

"Seaweed smells like the bottom of the ocean."

"And you don’t?"

That’s how it always goes—banter, teasing, comfortable silences filled with the soft crashing of waves, and eventually, music. You sing sometimes, when the mood strikes you. It’s never anything planned; it just happens. Vil always listens, captivated, because your voice is something he can't quite describe. It's raw, but pure, untouched by the expectations of the stage or the pressures of fame.

Sometimes he sings back, though he pretends he’s only doing it because you insist. "Come on, Vil. Just a few bars. You know you want to."

"I am a professional," he says, crossing his arms. "I don’t perform on a whim."

But you know how to coax him, and soon enough, he’s harmonizing with your lilting melody, his smooth, controlled voice intertwining with yours in a way that makes the night feel magical.

It’s been months of these little meetings, and Vil has never been quite sure what to make of you. You’re beautiful, of course—stunning, really—but that’s not what has him coming back to the shore every week.

It’s the way you make him feel completely at ease, the way you challenge him without being mean-spirited, the way you listen to him vent about things you couldn’t care less about yet still offer thoughtful responses.

And then there’s that laugh of yours—sharp, like the crack of a wave against the rocks, but warm enough to make him feel lighter every time he hears it.

He’s always valued control—over his image, his career, his emotions—but with you, he’s found himself slipping. He realizes, with some discomfort, that he’s been looking forward to these meetings a little too much. It’s not just the singing or the banter anymore. It’s... you.

That thought bothers him, because Vil Schoenheit does not get "distracted." He doesn’t fall for anyone. At least, not like this.

But here he is, walking down to the beach again, heart beating faster than usual as he anticipates seeing you. Tonight, though, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way the moon is hanging lower than usual, casting everything in a silvery glow, or maybe it’s the fact that Vil can’t deny his feelings anymore.

You’re already waiting for him when he arrives, sitting on a rock with your tail swishing lazily in the water. "Late again, Mr. Superstar?" you call out teasingly.

"I’m fashionably late, thank you," Vil replies, though there’s a softness in his voice. He takes a seat on the sand, smoothing out his coat with practiced precision before looking at you.

"You’re slipping," you say, eyeing him critically. "Usually, you’d have a comeback ready. What’s the matter? One of your beauty products finally backfired?"

Vil snorts softly, shaking his head. "No, though if it did, you’d be the first to hear about it." He looks out at the horizon, his expression thoughtful. "I’ve just been... thinking."

"Uh-oh," you say, folding your arms over your chest. "That sounds dangerous. What about?"

He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Vil has always been calculated, measured in everything he does. Confessing his feelings, though? That’s not something he’s prepared for. He glances at you, and suddenly, the words start spilling out before he can stop them.

"You know, for someone who claims not to care about humans, you certainly seem to enjoy spending time with me."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the shift in tone. "Are you fishing for compliments, Vil? Because I don’t need to stroke your ego any more than it already is."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, it’s just... You’re always teasing me about humans, about my world, but you keep coming back. Why?"

You tilt your head, considering his question for a moment before replying. "Because you’re interesting, Vil. You’re not like the others I’ve met. Most humans get caught up in themselves, but you... you’ve got a spark. You’re genuine, even when you’re being all high-and-mighty. And, well, it’s not like I’ve got a lot of options for good conversation under the sea."

Vil’s heart skips a beat at your words, and he finds himself smiling despite the nerves building up inside him. "I see. So I’m just your entertainment, then?"

"Oh, definitely," you say, grinning. "But you’re also... more than that."

Vil blinks, his breath catching slightly. "More?"

You nod, your expression softening. "You’re someone I look forward to seeing. I like being around you, Vil. You make me feel... seen. And I’m not just talking about my looks. It’s like you actually care about me as a person, not just a pretty face."

He swallows, his chest tightening as he listens to your words. This is it. He can’t hold it in any longer. "I do care," he says quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "More than you know."

You look at him, your teasing expression fading as you sense the weight behind his words. "Vil...?"

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I think... I think I’m falling for you."

There. He said it. And now his heart is racing, his palms are sweating, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Vil Schoenheit is unsure of himself. He braces for your reaction, half expecting you to laugh it off or tease him like you always do.

But you don’t. Instead, you blink at him, your mouth opening and closing as you process his confession. "You... what?"

Vil clears his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I’m in love with you," he repeats, more confidently this time. "I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and I didn’t want to admit it, but... I can’t keep it to myself anymore."

There’s a moment of stunned silence before you break into a wide smile. "Vil, you absolute idiot."

He recoils slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I’ve been waiting for you to say something for months now! I thought I was going to have to spell it out for you."

Vil blinks, taken aback. "You... you knew?"

"I didn’t know know," you admit, "but I had a feeling. You’re not exactly subtle, Vil."

He stares at you, a mixture of relief and embarrassment flooding his system. "Why didn’t you say anything, then?"

"Because I wanted to see how long it would take for you to figure it out yourself," you say with a smirk, leaning forward slightly. "I didn’t think it’d take this long, though."

Vil narrows his eyes, though there’s no malice in his expression. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you love me," you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. "What does that say about you?"

He huffs, though his heart is fluttering in his chest at your touch. "That I have terrible taste."

You laugh again, the sound bright and infectious, and before Vil can say anything else, you pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, gentle, and Vil feels like his entire world is melting away in that moment. The taste of saltwater lingers on your lips, and for the first time in a long time, Vil isn’t worried about appearances or perfection. He’s just... happy.

When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling like fools. "So," you say, your voice teasing, "does this mean we’re a thing now?"

Vil rolls his eyes, though he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. "I suppose it does."

"Good," you say, leaning in to kiss him again. "Because I’m not letting you back out of this one, Mr. Superstar."

Vil chuckles against your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you even closer. "Oh, trust me," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, "I have no intention of backing out. But I do expect you to stop wearing those dreadful seaweed masks."

You gasp dramatically, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eye. "Excuse you! Seaweed is nature’s skincare miracle, Vil. Just because it’s not wrapped in fancy packaging doesn’t mean it’s ineffective."

He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Perhaps, but you’ll have to let me introduce you to something a little more refined. If we’re going to be a couple, I simply can’t allow my significant other to use subpar beauty products."

"Oh, is that so?" you ask, amusement twinkling in your eyes. "I didn’t realize I was dating a beauty tyrant."

"It’s for your own good," he says with mock seriousness, though there’s a warmth behind his gaze that betrays his affection. "Think of it as part of your glow-up. You’ll thank me later."

You can’t help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man in front of you. It’s strange, really—how quickly this has all come together, yet how natural it feels. You never would’ve guessed that your casual banter and late-night talks would lead to this, but now that it’s happening, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Vil reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle but purposeful. "You know," he says softly, his usual sharp tone melting into something softer, "I’ve never met anyone quite like you."

You smile at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your chest. "I could say the same about you, Vil. You’re not as scary as people think, you know."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "That’s a well-maintained persona, I’ll have you know. Can’t let people think I’m soft."

"Oh, but you are," you tease, poking him lightly in the chest. "At least with me."

He scoffs lightly, though there’s no real bite behind it. "I’ll deny it if you tell anyone."

You laugh, resting your forehead against his as you savor the closeness between you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel completely at peace, as if everything has fallen into place. Vil, with all his elegance, wit, and sharpness, has somehow become the person you’ve come to care about more than you ever thought possible. And now, as he holds you close, you know that you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

"I’m glad it’s you," you whisper, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "I never thought I’d fall for a perfectionist with an ego the size of the sun, but here we are."

He lets out a soft, genuine laugh, his arms wrapping around you more securely. "I never thought I’d fall for someone who argues with me over skincare, but I suppose life has a sense of humor."

"Looks like we’re both in for a wild ride, then," you say with a grin.

Vil hums in agreement, his hand gently stroking your hair. "As long as it’s with you, I think I can handle it."

You smile, feeling your heart soar at his words. There’s a certain magic to this moment—a kind of fairy tale that feels like it’s been written just for the two of you. And as you sit there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something truly beautiful.

"Well then," you say, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, "looks like you’re stuck with me, Schoenheit."

"Forever, I hope," he says softly, before pulling you in for another kiss—this one longer, deeper, filled with the promise of something lasting.

And in that moment, with the moon shining overhead and the waves lapping gently against the shore, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together..

Masterlist

[ashton-sano]

Addicted to you, Dontcha know That You're toxic~?

Now Playing🎼♬ ♪ ♫: Blue Lock boys as boyfriends: Red/Beige flag edition

(Beige flag, if you’re not already aware, is someone whose behavior isnt exactly toxic but not entirely healthy or normal either)

Characters Included: Oliver Aiku, Micheal Kaiser, Otoya Eita, Tabito Karasu(Lowkey my man), Ryusei Shidou with Bonus! Sae Itoshi

*Note: these all happen to be characters I'm a bit bad at writing for so do bear with me :3

Been a while, hope ya likey! Tell me whatcha want more of. I'm gonna keep up the Blue Lock content because season 2 has me in a chokehold :3

Oliver Aiku (His is kinda cheating since it focuses more on before you were dating, my bad)

%Oliver Aiku, who was a highkey weirdo when you first met him, his person surrounded by a myriad of women after a particularly good game when his gaze landed on you. He approached and was stunned at your indifference, provoked to get your number regardless. It took a lot of asking Groveling to get it from you, a jab at his pride but he’ll live. Even after the first couple of months of meeting him, you can’t say your opinion of him would stray much 

%Oliver Aiku who can’t stop staring at you, just locked onto your features. You’re such a vision, the thought of you can’t leave his brain even as he sits with someone else. He spends hours awake just letting his mind wander to you, envisioning what you’d look like in his arms, what you’d look like under him, what face you’d pull as he’s taking you in this very bed

%Oliver Aiku with a Mountain of pride, that shakes and buckles at the idea of you rejecting him. The thought of someone else having you does more to him than you not feeling the same way. He’s determined to have you, even if he forsakes parts of himself for you. He’ll make himself seen around you more often, he puts more thought into how he speaks and acts around you, and he's more protective when it comes to the men who speak to you, even going as far as to flirt intensely. You mindlessly brush it off as his usual antics so much that you miss the way his eyes fixate on you as though you’re the only thing in his world

% Oliver Aiku who is a pretty sweet boyfriend all things considered. You consume so much of his time that he can’t find any to look at others, although he still has his Casanova ways. He teases you for your jealousy but never agrees with you, always stating that his heart is as good as yours, no question. Which he ends up proving in more ways than one. (Freak -.-)

Micheal Kaiser (Clap it up for me guys, I can’t stand this man but i’ll write for him for your enjoyment)

%Micheal Kaiser who has severe affection issues and effectively avoids any from you. It's confusing since he always initiates but at a safe distance, so he’ll flirt and play prince by kissing your hand and junk but can’t cope with the thought of holding each other tenderly and just existing for one another. It takes a lot of unpacking and patience to get him to be more comfortable with affection so intimate and raw with you. 

%Micheal Kaiser who only tones down his superiority complex when you come to watch his practice/games. This comes with a story.  At first, he was about as stuck up as usual with his respective teammates and you decided to visit his practice since you had the time. Unaware of his rivalry, you strike up a conversation with Isagi between breaks. Safe to say he wasn’t happy. God forbid you two exchange numbers; all hell breaks loose. After that petty fight, you swore you’d never come to visit him if he kept harassing his younger. His team thanks you for rounding him out with that threat as practice has gone much smoother since then

%Micheal Kaiser who talks to you in German when he’s sure you can't hear him i.e. sleeping, distracted, etc. It's weird because he knows you aren't listening and still can’t bring himself to say it in English. It’s typically romantic rambles or sweet l love you’s. Either way, it's always cute when he mutters a string of his native tongue to you. You won't tell him when you can hear him, or that you’ve picked up on what he’s saying, no way he’d admit it

%Micheal Kaiser who is iffy about how you interact with Ness in particular. Mainly because you aren’t fond of how he treats the poor boy and end up doting on him. That in turn makes him harsher on Ness which keeps biting him in the ass. After months of this merry-go-round, this stubborn king finally concedes to easing up on Ness as long as you quit giving him so much of your time. He might explode from the bubbling jealousy when you even mention your worry about another

(I believe in pathetic! and whipped! Kaiser because he radiates that energy, argue with the wall-3-)

Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu (…..yes, I believe in Bi! Karasu and Otoya, they just seem like the type to be gay for each other specifically. I just feel like they’d be better as a throuple rather than individually, they already get along well so why not.)

=3Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu! who have such a weird compatibility overall, god knows how they landed a stable relationship. Karasu carried when it came to confessing cause Otoya is no short of a moron with it. Karasu had been conditioning the albino for a month now to keep him from saying anything dumb and ruining the whole thing with his foolish womanizer ways

=3Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu! who love on you in such drastically different ways. Tabito’s affection is warmer and gentler as he applies more thought to his moves and speaks in turn, he lacks technical experience but makes up for it with attentiveness, finding weak points isn't his strong point in soccer alone ya know. Otoya takes on a less careful route, he does what comes naturally, some from what worked in previous relationships. It has earned him a few berating sessions so he strays away from it these days.

=3 Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu! who get along typically but nearly always fight over you. Insisting their methods are better than one another, you've been caught between several of these battles before. Then again, getting sandwiched between them as they please you from both angles wasn't a bad place to be, they'd even compete to see who makes you louder. It was akin to a game to them, which almost makes you wonder how much they actually care to compete. Perhaps they just need an excuse to manhandle you as a tag team.

=3 Otoya Eita + Tabito Karasu! who decimate any guy that dares to approach you. Karasu will make certain to pick out each flaw he spots and poke fun while Otoya eggs him on with a smirk; the both of them looking down on the man with disgust and heckle him till he screws off. This has in fact gotten you kicked out of several restaurants, which then leads to you scolding them and they insist it won't happen again….did that guy just stare at your ass? 

Ryusei Shidou

=3 Ryusei Shidou! who is 16 shades of insane right down to his feet. Nothing he says is classified as normal, no matter his true implications. You’re subject to filthy jokes whenever, god forbid you wear anything particularly eye-catching to him; It's all over. He's certain to let you know how fine he finds you and if that means ass smacks or pervy comments, he’ll do it without question.

=3 Ryusei Shidou! who has a weird obsession with Sae that you're not sure if you should bring up. You don't mind the redhead and as a matter of fact, you two get along swimmingly since you both remain on a similar degree of apathy that (gets him off) he enjoys. Most time spent with him is Sae sending his regards and applauding your resolve. The three of you together is heaven to the blonde, it's actually weird. You two could be berating him and his smile would be a mile wide. Please don't ask him what he’s picturing, it's not worth knowing.

=3 Ryusei Shidou! With bonus: Sae Itoshi! A Threesome with the three of you would be like; it makes him explode? just thinking about it. Perhaps he’d want you two to have your fun while he watches, just forced to watch and watch till it aches. Then again he’s too impatient and would get hasty. The look you two would give him makes him shiver down to his toes. No doubt you'd edge and force him to the brink over and over without relenting just to teach him to be patient if he wants to be rewarded. This freak would never learn and do it again just for the attention. Someone sedate this man…and me for writing this ig.

=3 Ryusei Shidou! w/ Sae Itoshi! who somehow became a throuple without realizing it??? Like neither you nor Sae are quite sure when but soon enough you all were exclusive and naked in bed covered in each other's marks. You two mesh well, it's just annoying how big and smug the perv’s grin is when he wakes up, was the bastard planning it all along?! The morning after was some harsh whiplash, especially with how natural it felt. 

Bonus (no, I don't have favorites…)

 Ryusei Shidou! who just can't get enough of having his two favorite people around. He doesn't have to play soccer just to harass Sae, he can do it right at home! Best of both worlds if you ask him. With Sae Itoshi! who puts up with it because you're so sensible, he almost wants to date just you at times with how pestering Shidou gets. He actually makes good conversation with you which is a breath of fresh air from the demon attached to his hip. And Y/N! who learns to grow fond of Sae, it's easy to see why Ryusei likes him. One thing for certain, you know to never tell Shidou that, you’ll never wipe the smile from his face and no amount of glaring and harsh comments from you two is rocking him off his high horse.

(I definitely got carried away. I like Ryusae Throuple a lot, it scratches my brain. If you want more of it, maybe I could make some exclusive headcanons?)

Property of ©ashton-sano; Don't post my content on any other platform without credit; much love^^

[littleoddwriter]

Trapped | Cooper Abbott x GenderNeutral!Reader | Dark Fic

Hi there! I'm incredibly down bad for him, to nobody's surprise, so here's the first fic I wrote for him. More to come! This fic isn't exactly romantic or even really sexual, albeit with some hints to it; but I used it to get a feel for writing him, first and foremost. And also because I saw somebody wanting a fic where Reader is in Lady Raven's position at the end of the movie, and I wanted that as well, so, here. It's not exactly what was imagined when demanding that, I know, but it's something! (also, excuse the uninspired title, please, it's very tongue-in-cheek, I know, dshjkfgsdkjs) summary; You're captured by the Butcher as his last chance of entertainment - and revenge - before his inevitable arrest or death. There, you learn a lot about him, and also yourself. notes/warnings; GenderNeutral!Reader; Reader is in Lady Raven's position (Reader is a pop star, etc.); slight spoilers for the movie (but I expect you to have seen that if you're reading this anyway); Character Study; Implied/Referenced (Attempted) Murders; Kidnapping; Angst; Implied/Referenced Sexual Attraction; Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse; Mostly Open End; Dark Fic. (once again, this is not a full on romantic or sexual fic about Cooper and Reader, but more of an exploration of the character, his dynamic with Reader, and Reader's own conflicting thoughts and feelings about the situation and Cooper. there are hints of romance and sexual attraction, though. this is a dark fic and it has a mostly open ending; but it does imply a bad ending if we're realistic. if you're like me, you could also find a way to imagine a better ending to it. that's why I left it somewhat ambiguous.)

The car’s passenger door was slammed shut on you, making you jump with the force behind it. A shaky breath left your trembling lips as you waited for Cooper to settle in the driver’s seat of his wife’s car. Soon to be ex-wife, you figured. If not a widow. 

Your mind was still reeling with the night’s events. One moment, you’d been giving your best for the concert, like you always did, and the next moment, you were stuck with a wanted serial killer because you decided to play hero. Desperately, you hoped it would all be worth it, in the end. Or else this might have been the stupidest decision you’ve ever made. You should have just alerted the FBI when you got the hunch that something was up with the man, you berated yourself internally. 

“Put these around your wrists,” the Butcher told you gruffly, holding up a pair of zip ties to you. 

Stunned, you just looked at him for a long moment, your mind trying to catch up with what he was asking of you. Everything has been happening too fast. Too much, all at once. And worst of all, you were terrified. Yet at the same time, you felt for him. He was a desperate man. Trapped. Cornered. In a way, you were his last resort now. How ironic.

Cooper gave you a stern look, his dishevelled hair covering parts of the upper half of his face, but the fierce glint of desperation and murder in his eyes shone through the brunette strands. 

“Put. These. Around. Your. Wrists,” he commanded again through clenched teeth, shoving the zip ties into your chest, as your hands automatically flew up to catch them.

Shakily, you nodded and put your hands through the loop. Once the zip ties were around your wrists, the Butcher pulled them tight, the thin hard plastic cutting into your skin, rubbing it raw with every small movement. 

As soon as he was certain that your hands were tied, Cooper started the car’s engine and quickly exited the garage and driveway. In the distance, you could hear police sirens on their way to the house you had just left behind. Too late. 

“If only you hadn’t decided to play hero,” Cooper mused with a strained, almost manic, smile on his lips, “None of this had to have happened, you know? I would have let you go.”

“And let you kill more innocent people? I couldn’t bear the guilt, knowing I could have prevented it,” you responded quietly.

“As if you actually care about random people’s lives more than your own. You’re just as fake as they all are. Pretending that you’ve got it all figured out, that you’re fulfilled.” He sounded bitter, angry, spitting those last words in your direction, like your existence has personally offended him. His grip around the steering wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

Not wanting to anger him any further, you decided to stay quiet; even though you had a million things on your mind that you would have liked to retort. 

The FBI had briefed you on what kind of man they figured him to be. A psychological profile, they called it. You had heard about those on TV before, but it always seemed silly to you. How could they possibly know what was going on inside a person’s mind without having ever met them before? With all conclusions based on evidence from crime scenes instead? It didn’t make sense to you.

Until now, that was. Cooper seemed like the exact man the FBI had described to you. Perfect on the outside, an overachieving family man, unassuming, kind, always happy and ready to lend a hand. And beneath all of that, on the inside, there was a hurt child, craving their parents’ love and approval, but never getting it. Now, he let that anger that had manifested out on people he deemed to have had it all, to have what he was missing all his life. 

Deep down, you felt bad for him. If his parents had been different, perhaps there would be one less killer on the loose. Or perhaps, he would have ended up this way, no matter the circumstances of his upbringing. Who was to say that killers like him were only a product of abuse? 

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled into another driveway, getting out of the car. His footsteps were quick and heavy, and your heart was sinking in response to those sounds. 

Ripping the passenger door open, he leaned down to look at you, grabbed your bound wrists and jerked your body in his direction, forcing you out of your seat. Stumbling out of the car, you almost bumped into him, your head barely reaching his shoulder. He really was massive. You stood no chance against him, you thought, feeling defeated. This was it, then. 

Cooper bent over and quickly picked up the bag he had taken with him from the garage, before slamming the door shut once more. And just like he had done before, the Butcher put his fingers on your shoulder, verbally giving you directions for where he wanted you to go, while keeping a dominating presence behind you, not allowing you a real chance to escape.

Eventually, you found yourself in a basement, not unlike the one Spencer, who was hopefully safe now, had been stuck in before. 

The Butcher pushed you down to sit on the cold hard chair in the middle of the room, a support beam right behind it. He made quick work of putting the ice-cold steel chains and cuffs around your wrists and ankles, snapping off the zip ties at last. 

Looking up at him from where you were seated, the sinking feeling of hopelessness creeped in. There was no way you were getting out of this alive. 

Cooper retrieved a cleaver from his bag and pulled out another chair, placing it across from you and sitting down on it, playing with the knife in his hands. He looked at you for a long moment, not saying anything, just breathing calmly, idly stroking the knife’s handle with his thumb of the hand that was holding it. With his other hand, he brushed the loose strands of hair away from his face.

Once again, he was smiling at you. A smile that never reached his eyes, which glinted with murderous intent and something else that you couldn’t quite place. His smile was too big, too sharp, to be genuine. It seemed manic and desperate. Strained. And at the same time, he looked to be in complete control over the situation. 

Cooper Abbott was a man of many facades, you came to realise. 

“I was gonna stop, you know?” he finally spoke up, the tense silence broken by his voice that was laced with too many emotions at once, giving away that he didn’t feel as in control as he seemed to be. 

You waited for him to continue, not daring to ask questions.

“It’s been a while since I last felt the urge. Until you, tonight. I don’t know if it was because of everything that happened, or because I could see right through you… but it was an almost pleasant surprise to feel the urge again.

“Spencer was gonna be my last. That was the plan. Go to the concert with Riley, kill Spencer from the comfort of my home, sneak out hours later, making up some kind of lie of having to work an extra shift because of an emergency, chop him up, dispose of his body and any evidence, return home, and pretend like nothing had happened,” Cooper explained his initial plan for tonight like he was talking about something completely normal, like a family vacation he was planning instead. It was eerie, but somewhat intriguing to you. 

“And then, with time, I would have cleaned out all the houses I had bought to keep my two lives safely apart. I could have been a regular husband, father, and firefighter in just a couple of weeks, maybe months. And no one would have been any wiser on what I had done for all those years that the Butcher was active. It was the perfect plan,” he finished with a frustrated sigh, brushing his hair away from his face again with more force than was necessary. You could hear the steady, but sharp, tapping of his fingers against the cleaver’s wooden handle.

There was a long, tense moment of silence.

You almost felt the urge to apologise for ruining his plans.

“Why did you decide to stop?” you asked, unable to contain your genuine curiosity any longer.

Strangely enough, Cooper’s smile softened, his face relaxed and his eyes lost some of the fierceness in them. “Because I thought that I had finally done enough. The urge had lessened over the years, like I said, I didn’t feel it for a while until tonight. I was just doing it out of routine at this point, I think. Believe it or not, it was fun. And I wasn’t ready to give that up for a while.”

“What changed?” 

“I did… My children changed me. Riley and Logan are everything to me. And I was trying my hardest to be the dad they deserved to have. The one that they needed. A loving, fun, and especially involved, dad. I didn’t want them to feel like I did growing up,” Cooper explained in a wistful tone, “It all started out as just another way to keep suspicions away from me. Starting a family with Rachel seemed like the perfect cover. Nobody would ever suspect that a true family man could be a messed up serial killer, right?”

Despite your current situation, you felt your heart flutter. You understood where he was coming from, and you wished things had gone differently for him. But most of all, you wished that he wasn’t what he was.

“I didn’t expect to actually enjoy fatherhood, or to love my kids the way I do,” he continued after a short pause, still in that oddly wistful tone, a harsh contrast to the entire situation and his true being, “It’s so strange… With everything that happened tonight, I’m just enraged. But I’m less angry about having been found out at all. I’m mostly angry because I’m never going to see my children again.”

This time, you couldn’t resist the urge, and so you whispered, “I’m sorry,” like it was somehow your fault, when in reality, it was his decision to murder people in the first place.

Letting out a long sigh that ended in a small, insincere chuckle, Cooper got up from his chair, meat cleaver in his hand, towering over you like this inescapable force that he was to you. 

With practised ease, he took his shirt off and threw it over the chair behind himself. You had no idea why he would do that. Easier clean-up, maybe? With regret, you realised that you didn’t hate the sight. He was an attractive man, there was no question about that. But to feel such attraction, despite your current predicament, was nothing short of confusing and embarrassing to you. 

“You don’t have to do this, Cooper,” you whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“I wish that was true, but… there’s no escape. Not anymore. I might as well have fun one last time,” he told you quietly with that eerie smile that did nothing to hide his intentions. It only emphasised them now. 

Feeling your heart rate accelerate, your stomach sank with the realisation that this would be it for you. 

It only took two steps for him to stand right in front of and above your seated, captured, cowering form. Before you could utter another plea, Cooper’s free hand wrapped around your throat, almost covering the entire thing with his large palm as his fingers gripped onto your jaw, moving your head further back as he bent down, leaning into you.

A small noise escaped your throat, sounding both distressed and almost aroused. You had no control over that, and it felt utterly humiliating to have made such a sound in response to his actions. 

The Butcher chuckled darkly, a sharp smile playing on his lips, and a glint of intrigue in his eyes. 

“I think I’m gonna enjoy this a lot more than expected…” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin. 

“Please don’t…” you tried again, weakly, your voice strained from the weight of his hand against your windpipe. 

As you struggled to breathe, and his hand only tightened around your neck, your vision started to blur both due to panic and the lack of oxygen. Darkly, in the back of your fuzzy mind, you thought that at least you’d go out with a handsome face as the last thing you'd see. 

Faintly, in the far distance, you heard police sirens. Or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

“If only you had saved yourself…” the Butcher whispered to you before he quickly, and with impressive force, snapped your head back against the support beam behind you, and your world went dark.

[throughthetwistedmirror]

The Love You Burn For ~ *Leona Kingscholar*

Summary: Leona is allowed to marry whomever he wants. And he wants to marry you.

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 928

Warning: Leona is OOC but I don't care

Masterlist

Taglist:​ @goseew​ @savanaclaw1996

It wasn’t like him to be this nervous. Yet Leona found himself pacing around his room, clutching at his hair every so often. His bottom lip was becoming raw from how much he was biting it with his sharp teeth. Every couple of seconds he would check the gilded clock on the wall, wondering to himself why she must always be so late.

Right when he was about to call for Ruggie to go and fetch her, the door swung open and she tumbled in. He paused, bewildered to see her, which he shouldn't be. He asked her to meet him in his room twenty minutes ago. However every time he saw her, it always felt like the first time he was experiencing true beauty. Despite her disheveled appearance and rather rumpled clothes, she was still the most beautiful girl in the entire world to him. It was because of that and the fact that she was so charming and intelligent beyond her years that made him fall so irrevocably in love with her. 

And it scared him to death. However, he told himself he wouldn't let his fear of how much he loved her get in the way of this moment. This was going to happen, no matter what.

“You needed to see me, Leona?” She asked, slightly out of breath.

Just as he suspected would happen, and what Ruggie teased him about when he mentioned his plan, Leona found his words caught in his throat. He fumbled with what to say but he didn't let his nerves show. He would not show her how much she unnerved him. "Yes, I did, yes.”

She nodded. “And the reason is…?”

“You see, the thing is...” And his brain went blank. Why was he trying so hard to find the right words? Couldn’t she see what he wanted to tell her and what was on his mind? Couldn’t she spare him the trouble of putting his thoughts into words and just answer his unspoken question?

Smiling her dazzling smile, she took his slightly sweaty hands in hers and he felt his breath catch despite himself. “It’s okay, Leona. Take all the time you need.”

“I want to marry you.”

Well that was less eloquent than what he was hoping for.

In the grand scheme of things, he didn’t even need to propose to her. As the second prince of Sunset Savanna, Leona could marry whichever noble he preferred, whether within their borders or in worlds beyond, no questions asked. But ever since this frumpy, clumsy, stunning baroness from his realm stumbled into his birthday ball years ago, he knew he wanted to be hers forever. She was everything he knew his brother Falena disapproved of, despite being of noble birth. She was cunning and crude, which contrasted against the loud albeit well-mannered household his oldest brother believed in. If anything, that was all the more reason he wanted to be with her. And the rules backed him up, stating he could marry any noble he desired, no questions asked.

Yet, despite this rule, Leona knew he had to ask. He wanted to hear her opinion about the idea, even if her rejection would break his heart forever. He cared about her enough that even if she didn’t want to be his forever, he would let her go. He loved her enough to put her happiness before his own.

Her eyes were wide and her mouth formed an o-shape. However, she still had his hands in hers. Sucking in her breath, she asked, “Are you sure?”

He nodded slowly, not liking what he was hearing. “I’m sure. Do you want to marry me?”

Again, there was a pause. “Leona, are you certain it’s me you want to marry?”

Confused, he questioned her. “What do you mean, am I certain? Of course I'm certain! That's a dumb question to ask.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Leona, dear, you could have any noble in the whole world. I wouldn’t even be surprised if your brother allowed you to marry a commoner. So why would you want to marry some common noblewoman who doesn’t quite fit into your family dynamic?”

“Because you’re not some common noblewoman who doesn’t quite fit my family’s dynamic.” He explained, squeezing her fingers affectionately. “You are eccentric, fun, and compassionate. Your intelligence in everything astounds me and your golden heart proceeds you. You make me want to become a better person, not just to my friends, but to you as well. You are whom I fell in love with and wish to spend my remaining days with. Besides, I also don't quite fit into my family's dynamic as well. But you don't see them tossing me out yet. However, if you do not feel the same way, I will stand by and let you be happy with whomever you prefer.”

“I feel the same way.” She breathed. “Of course I feel the same way you feel for me. I’ve loved you from the very first dance at your birthday ball. You captured my heart and stole my soul, and I don’t want it back. You are everything to me, Leona. I am just surprised that you love me so much you’d want to be with me forever in marriage. Forgive me, but you don't seem like the marrying type.”

“Of course I want to marry you.” He replied roughly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I burn for you.”

She looked up at him with sparkling eyes and kissed his lips. “I burn for you too.”

[perfectsunlight]

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟖𝐤

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨

know that i loved you so bad

i let you treat me like that

i was your willing accomplice, honey

you were in the middle of talking about your day on the phone with your girlfriend. the both of you went to the same school, but of course her idol duties put her out of the classroom all the time. you were no idol, naturally leaving you and minji with a bit of estranged distance since you rarely saw her.

“oh, and then one of the fire alarms went off–” “can you just stop talking?”

minji’s sharp voice cut you off mid sentence. the suddenness of her words left you stunned, the hurt hitting you like a swift blow to the chest. the silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, as if the weight of the unspoken emotions hung in the air between you.

your mind raced, desperately trying to comprehend what had just happened. this was supposed to be your moment, a chance to share your day with her, to bridge the ever-widening gap that her job had forged between you. 

and yet, here you were, your heart sinking as her cutting words echoed in your ears.

"i've had a long day, and i just don't really feel like hearing you ramble right now." the idol said monotonously on the other line, her words landing like a cold, heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. each syllable felt like a dagger, twisting and turning in the wound that was already so tender. 

it was as if the person you once knew, the one who used to hang on your every word, had been replaced by someone distant and indifferent.

your voice caught in your throat, the hurt and confusion making it impossible to form a coherent response. you had hoped that your words, your voice, could be a lifeline to bridge the gap between your worlds, but instead, they seemed to have driven the wedge even deeper.

the words hung in the air, the silence stretching out like an eternity. what had you done wrong? was it your fault that you couldn't understand the pressures of her life, the demands of her career? a sinking feeling settled in your chest, a mix of sadness and anger, a complex emotion that was hard to untangle.

you could feel your own heart squeezing in your chest, the vulnerability of the moment leaving you raw and exposed.

the person you loved, the one who used to make your heart skip a beat, had just dismissed you with a single sentence. the sharp contrast between the past and the present was a painful reminder of how much things had changed.

"i understand that you're tired," you managed to say, your voice trembling with a mix of sadness and resignation. "i just thought maybe we could talk, even if it's just for a little while."

the line remained quiet for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken words. you could almost picture minji on the other end, her expression impassive, her eyes perhaps staring off into the distance, disconnected from the conversation. 

it was a stark reminder that you were now a secondary character in her life, a role you had never anticipated playing.

"i don't know what to say," she finally responded, her voice lacking any warmth or emotion. "i'm just not in the mood for this right now."

those words felt like a final blow, a confirmation that the divide between you had grown too wide to bridge. the tears you had been holding back now spilled freely down your cheeks, each droplet a testament to the pain that was too deep for words.

you wanted to tell her how much you missed her, how much you longed for the connection you once shared. you wanted to ask her if there was a way to mend what was broken, to find a way back to each other. but the weight of her indifference hung heavy in the air, suffocating any words that might have brought solace.

in the end, all you could manage was a whispered, "okay." and with that, you hung up the phone, the silence on the other end echoing the emptiness you now felt inside. 

and i watched as you fled the scene

doe-eyed as you buried me

one heart broke, four hands bloody

the next few weeks were a continuation of that one evening. minji stopped calling you, she left you on read often, and occasionally she wouldn’t even read it until the next day. this was not the kim minji you fell in love with.

no, this was entirely someone different. your minji would never do this to you.

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. 

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. she was the one who made you feel like you were the most important person in her world.

but now, that minji seemed like a distant memory, a bittersweet echo of a time that was slipping further and further away. the weight of her absence bore down on you like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over every aspect of your life. the joy you used to find in the simplest of things now felt hollow, incomplete.

you found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a message, a sign that she was thinking of you. each notification that popped up only brought a pang of disappointment as it turned out to be from someone else. 

you wondered if you were being too needy, too clingy, but deep down, you couldn't help but feel that something was fundamentally wrong.

nights were the hardest. 

the absence of her goodnight messages left a void that was difficult to fill. the empty space beside you in bed seemed to grow colder each night, a physical reminder of the emotional distance that had come between you. you missed the sound of her voice, the way she used to tell you about her day, about the small victories and the challenges she faced.

you began to replay that evening in your mind, searching for clues, for any possible explanation for the sudden change in her behavior. had you said something wrong? was there something you could have done differently? the uncertainty gnawed at you, feeding into your insecurities and amplifying your pain.

those things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

one afternoon, you found yourself waiting in line at a fansign for new jeans. you didn’t tell minji you were coming, since you thought it would be a good idea to surprise her with your presence. it had been over a month since you had seen your girlfriend, and you were over the moon to just see her face again.

especially since you had found yourself ditching your last period of class to come to this event.

the atmosphere around you buzzed with excitement, the energy of the fans filling the air. the posters, the merchandise, the anticipation—it was all so overwhelming. as you inched closer to the front of the line, your heart raced with a mixture of nervousness and eagerness.

finally, it was your turn. you stepped up to the table, and there she was, looking every bit as stunning as you remembered. her hair cascaded in waves, her eyes sparkled, and her smile was radiant, lighting up the entire room. for a moment, it felt like time stood still, and all the pain and uncertainty of the past weeks melted away in the warmth of her gaze.

minji looked up from signing the album placed in front of her, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. "you?" she exclaimed softly, a mixture of shock and something else you couldn't quite place in her voice.

"hey," you managed, your own voice a little unsteady. "surprise."

a range of emotions seemed to play across her face—surprise, confusion, and something akin to disgust. but she quickly masked them, putting on a professional smile as she continued to sign your album. the brief interaction felt surreal, like you were strangers meeting for the first time, and the dissonance was almost painful.

"thank you for coming," she said politely as she handed the album back to you. you held onto the album, your fingers trembling slightly as you searched her eyes for a hint of the minji you once knew.

before you could respond, a staff member gently ushered you along, reminding you that there were other fans waiting. 

minji didn’t bother looking back at you, not even once.

and just like that, the fansign moved on, and you were left standing there, clutching the album to your chest. the encounter left you feeling both heartened and heartbroken, a reminder that surprises weren't enough to mend what was broken.

but maybe it was your fault for not understanding? minji was an idol. she was busy with her schedules and promotions. of course she isn’t going to have time to see you. surely you should understand that, right?

however, you couldn’t understand why she acted the way she did towards you. little did you know it would only get worse.

you used me as an alibi

i crossed my heart as you crossed the line

and i defended you to all my friends

“y/n, come on. you can’t keep defending her.” sullyoon said bluntly, pointing a finger in your direction as she glared at you.

your best friend had been present to witness yet another one of you and minji’s arguments. this time, you called your girlfriend asking for a day she’s free to hang out with you, only to be met with an argument with her.

minji blamed you for being late to her photoshoot because you called her at a bad time. she also blamed you for making her stressed out with all of your constant messages.

you sighed and looked down, the weight of sullyoon's words hitting you like a ton of bricks. she wasn't wrong, and deep down, you knew it. you had been trying so hard to defend minji's actions, to justify the distance that had grown between you, but at what cost?

"i know," you replied quietly, your voice tinged with sadness and frustration. "it's just... i love her, sullyoon. i don't want to give up on us."

sullyoon's expression softened, and she stepped closer to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "i know you love her, y/n. and i'm not telling you to give up. but you deserve someone who treats you with kindness and respect, who values your time and effort."

tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, your heart aching with the truth of her words. you had been holding onto the memories of the past, the love you once shared, but the reality of the present was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

"it just hurts, you know?" you admitted, your voice quivering. "to feel like i'm not enough, like i'm the one causing her stress and frustration. she’s an idol and i feel like i should understand better."

sullyoon pulled you into a gentle hug, offering you a source of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. "you are enough, y/n. relationships are supposed to be a two-way street. it shouldn't be one-sided, and you shouldn't have to constantly defend yourself." 

as you buried your face in her shoulder, you couldn't help but feel the weight of your emotions crashing over you. the love you had for minji was still there, strong and unwavering, but it was becoming painfully clear that love alone might not be enough to mend what was broken.

“and i’m an idol, too. but i still make time to talk to you more than minji does.” she added, patting your back gently. “she’s just making excuses.”

with a heavy heart, you pulled away from sullyoon's embrace, wiping away your tears. "i need to have a serious conversation with her, don't i?"

sullyoon nodded, her gaze filled with empathy. "yes, y/n. you deserve to be heard, and you deserve honesty. anything less than that is not enough.”

and now, every time a siren sounds

i wonder if you're around

'cause you know that i'd do it all again

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. 

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. the anticipation and nervousness you felt were palpable as the day approached. a part of you hoped that this would mark a turning point in your relationship, a chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

as the day dawned, you found yourself getting ready with a mix of excitement and trepidation. your heart raced as you drove to the restaurant you both had agreed upon. the familiar sights of the city felt almost surreal, like you were stepping into a dream. you couldn't help but replay the upcoming meeting in your mind, wondering how it would unfold.

when you arrived at the restaurant, your heart skipped a beat as you saw minji waiting outside. she looked just as stunning as ever, a mix of nerves and excitement in her eyes. for a moment, it felt like time had stood still, and all the struggles and pain of the past weeks faded into the background. it was just the two of you, like it used to be.

"hey," you called out softly as you approached her, a tentative smile on your lips. minji's face became visible as she turned to you, a half smile tugging at her lips. "hey," she replied, her voice a mixture of nonchalant and monotone.

the awkwardness that had been present in your recent interactions seemed to intensify in that moment. as you sat down at a corner table, there was an unspoken dynamic. minji was acting like an idol, not like your girlfriend.

the conversation started off hesitantly, with small talk about each other's lives. minji talked about her busy schedule, her recent projects, and the demands of her idol career. you sat and listened attentively, unsure if you should say anything yet about a breakup.

when there was a pause in her monologue, you took a deep breath and finally spoke up, your voice soft but determined. "minji, i think we need to talk."

she looked at you, her expression not changing much, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—maybe surprise, maybe annoyance.

"what's there to talk about?" she replied, her voice tinged with a touch of irritation.

your heart ached at her dismissive response, but you pressed on, knowing that you needed to be honest. "i miss us, minji. i miss the way things used to be between us. but lately, it feels like we're living in two separate worlds. your career, your fame—it's all so overwhelming, and i feel like i'm being left behind."

minji's gaze remained fixed on you, her eyes guarded. "you knew what my life was like when we got together. this isn't something new."

"i know, and i tried to be understanding," you replied, your voice cracking with emotion. "but it's not just about your career. it's about how we've changed, how our relationship has changed. i want us to be partners, to support each other, but it feels like you're closing yourself off from me."

minji's expression hardened, her walls going up even higher. "so, what are you saying?"

your heart ached as you looked into her eyes, searching for the minji you used to know, the one who would have listened and cared deeply. 

"i'm saying that maybe we need to take a break. to figure things out, to find ourselves again. i don't want to keep feeling like i'm fighting for your attention, like i'm the one causing you stress."

the silence that followed felt suffocating, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air between you. minji's lips tightened, and you could see a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. and then, finally, she spoke, her voice laced with anger.

"you're giving up on us just like that?" her tone was sharp, accusatory. "it's not about giving up," you said softly, your voice trembling. "it's about recognizing that we both need to be happy, that we both need space to grow."

minji pushed her chair back abruptly, her face contorted with frustration. "i can't believe you're doing this. after everything."

you reached out for her, your heart aching at her reaction. "minji, please understand. this is tearing us apart. maybe some time apart can help us find our way back to each other."

the restaurant seemed to fade into the background as minji's words pierced through you like a knife. her anger was palpable, her frustration a tangible force. you watched as she stood there, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

"i can’t believe i took time out of my busy schedule to come on a date with you for the first time in months and all you’re doing is this?" her voice trembled with a mix of emotions, and you could see tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

you swallowed hard, your own heart breaking at the pain in her voice. "minji, i didn't want it to be like this. i thought a break might give us a chance to work through things, to find a way back to each other."

she shook her head, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "you think this is what i want? you think i'm happy with the way things have been?"

the raw emotion in her voice cut through you, a stark reminder that this wasn't easy for her either. but her anger was so intense, so overwhelming, that it felt like there was no room for understanding or compromise.

"i don't think you're happy either," you said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. "i just thought maybe this break could give us a chance to heal."

minji's gaze bore into yours, her eyes blazing with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "you think i need healing? you think i need you to tell me what's wrong with my life?"

the accusation in her words stung, and you felt a mixture of guilt and frustration swirling within you. "no, that's not what i meant."

"of course it's not what you meant," she spat back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "you always know what's best, don't you?"

you closed your eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy burden. it wasn't supposed to end like this, with anger and accusations. 

but the reality of your relationship had become so tangled, so complex, that finding a way forward felt almost impossible.

“i'm not saying i know what's best," you said, your voice cracking with the effort to hold back tears. "i just thought maybe a break could help us both find some clarity."

she turned away from you, her fists balled as if trying to hold back the flood of emotions and her jaw clenched. "i can't do this right now. i can't talk about this."

you watched as she walked away, her steps hurried and determined. the restaurant felt cold and desolate, the aftermath of the conversation leaving you feeling hollow and defeated. 

it was supposed to be a chance to reconnect, to find a way back to each other, but instead, it had only driven a deeper wedge between you.

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

you didn’t really know what to call your relationship with minji after that. even though you were the one who tried to break up with her, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about it.

maybe you were wrong all along? what if it wasn’t minji’s fault, but rather your own? she was still trying, right?

in the days that followed your encounter at the restaurant, you found yourself replaying the conversation over and over in your mind. doubt gnawed at you, and you began to question whether your decision to suggest a break was the right one. 

after all, minji had come to meet you, she had taken time out of her busy schedule, and you had essentially rejected her.

seeing her upset and angry had left a pit in your stomach, a nagging feeling that perhaps you hadn't fully considered the consequences of your actions. the guilt weighed heavily on you, a constant reminder that relationships were complex and messy, and your attempt to address the issues between you had only seemed to exacerbate them.

as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself missing minji more than ever. the silence between you was deafening, and the space that had grown between you felt like an insurmountable chasm. you wondered if you had pushed her away for good, if your efforts to address the issues had only served to drive her further away.

you couldn't help but notice how minji continued to appear in the media, performing with her group, smiling for the cameras, all the while masking the turmoil that had once been so evident between you. it was as if she had moved on effortlessly, while you were left grappling with the remnants of a relationship that felt more shattered than ever.

the clock on your bedroom wall glared at you with the numbers 9:55 pm. minji was still awake, she always was at this time. you memorized her practice schedule during the talking stage with her.

it was a bit ironic that you remembered her daily schedule but you couldn’t seem to remember to eat or sleep.

the past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, and the attempt to repair your relationship with minji had left you emotionally drained. you were trying to rebuild what was broken, and it was proving to be both challenging and rewarding.

but it wasn't easy. the memories of your arguments and the pain you both felt still lingered, and they often invaded your thoughts, especially during these quiet moments when the world seemed to slow down. the disparity between minji's public persona and the reality you both faced weighed heavily on your heart.

as you sat there, staring at the clock, a surge of emotions swept over you. you missed her more than words could express, and you longed for the love you once felt from the girl. 

yet, there was a lingering fear that the cracks in your relationship might be too deep to mend completely. the doubt, the insecurity, and the uncertainty gnawed at you, reminding you that love alone might not be enough to heal the wounds that had formed.

you picked up your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. maybe you should send her a message, just to let her know that you were thinking of her. 

it's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

'cause i was going down, but i was doing it with you

your fingers typed and erased over and over again, the indecision evident in your actions. the glow of your phone's screen illuminated the dim room, casting a faint light on your contemplative expression. the cursor blinked in the text box as you struggled to find the right words.

"i miss you,” you typed and then hesitated, your thumb hovering over the send button. it was a simple message, but it held so much weight. would it be welcomed, or would it come across as too needy? you deleted the message and started again.

“how was your day?” you tried, hoping for a more casual approach. but as soon as the words appeared on the screen, they felt inadequate, empty even. minji deserved more than a simple inquiry about her day.

with a frustrated sigh, you locked your phone and placed it on the table. you leaned back in your chair, your thoughts a swirl of emotions. the turmoil within you mirrored the unease you felt about your relationship. it was as if your actions on your phone screen were a microcosm of the larger struggle you were facing.

part of you wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed, to show minji that you were still here, still committed to trying. 

but the other part of you was afraid—afraid of rejection, afraid of making things worse, afraid of being a burden to her busy life.

yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made

but i say that i hate you with a smile on my face

as the minutes turned into hours, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, a battle raging within you. the screen of your phone remained dark, untouched, a silent testament to your internal struggle. the clock ticked on, and the night grew deeper, but your heart felt heavy with the weight of indecision.

finally, you gave a resigned sigh, realizing that you couldn't keep grappling with this forever. with a determined exhale, you unlocked your phone once more. your fingers tapped out a message, slower this time, each word chosen carefully.

"hi minji, i've been thinking about us. i miss what we had, and i'm willing to work on things if you are. i don't want to push you, but i just wanted you to know that i'm here, whenever you're ready to talk."

you read and reread the message, the words holding your hopes and vulnerabilities. with a trembling hand, you pressed the send button, watching as the message flew off into the digital void. the anxiety settled in once again, the seconds stretching out.

the room was silent, save for the soft hum of the clock on the wall. the minutes passed, and you felt a mix of anticipation and dread. 

oh, look what we became

somewhere between now and the moment you had sent the text, you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. you picked up your phone again, only to be met with a blank screen of no notifications. 

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

when you scrolled back to the conversation, you noticed your message didn’t say it had been delivered. confused, you decided to double check her schedule by looking online. was she flying somewhere right now?

as you searched for any information about minji's schedule, you felt a growing sense of unease. it wasn't like her not to respond, even if she was busy. and the fact that your message hadn't even been delivered left you feeling a mix of frustration and concern.

you clicked on various fan sites and social media platforms, hoping to find a clue about her whereabouts. but your search yielded no answers—no mentions of her current activities, no updates on her schedule.

the clock on your wall ticked away, and you found yourself trapped in a cycle of uncertainty. the more you searched, the more your anxiety grew. what if something had happened? what if she was in trouble or facing an emergency?

all the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

finally, after what felt like an eternity of scrolling, you stumbled upon a tweet from a fan account. it mentioned that minji's group finally had a break in their schedules for the first time in months.

your heart sank as you read those words. minji was still here in seoul. 

but if she was still here in the city, why wasn’t your message going through?

your favorite crime

moving to her contact once again, you about calling her. you missed her, you loved her, and you wanted to let her know that you were sorry for not understanding her.

even though none of it was your fault in the first place. 

your favorite crime

your thumb pressed on the call button and you brought the device to your ear. the sound of your heart pounded in your head and your hands shook.

would she be mad? would she be happy to hear from you? or maybe she would feel just as sorry as you were feeling right now? 

surely she can’t miss you less than you miss her, right?

'cause baby, you were mine

the number you have dialed is not in service at this time…

a/n: this was literally so rushed im sorry LMAOOO

[catnipaddictt]

Hi! I’m not sure if requests are still open but I’m currently watching Higher Ground right now and I’m in love with Scott (is anyone surprised)! I was wondering if you could write a short fic about him comforting the reader when he finds out that she’s self harming? Totally get it if not.

scott barringer x gn!reader

wc: 0.8k

cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, angst, mentions of self harm, reader has a history of sh, heavy topics, if you are not doing okay please read with caution

comment: hey anon, thanks for the request <3 This one deals with some heavier topics so reader discretion is advised

You were lying down in your cabin when you heard the loud movement of Scott's feet on the hardwood floors. His steps came closer and closer until you felt the bed dip as he sat down. 

You roll over to face him and are greeted by the blonde’s messy hair and piercing blue eyes. 

Scott had been at New Horizons far longer than you had and he knew his way around. When you had been put into the program by your concerned parents, Scott was given the task of showing you around. Although he wasn't too happy about being your ‘babysitter’ for the first few weeks, you grew on him.

You shared the same sense of humor and had similar taste in a range of things. Eventually you two had become close friends, always sneaking out to the docks together and making fun of the outdoor activities you were subjected to.

You thought you had been getting better, even the counselors believed so. There was even talk of sending you home in a few weeks to test the waters. You were looking forward to sleeping in your own bed for the first time in months. Until you realised that going back home meant leaving your new friends, including Scott, behind. You didn't want to give them up. 

It had started small. Taking too hot showers that left your skin red and raw. Picking at the skin around your nails and chewing the inside of your mouth until it bled. But it wasn't enough for you. You knew relapsing was bad and that you shouldn't be doing this to yourself. But you couldn't help it. You didn't know how to deal with your only emotions any differently.

Scott speaks before you do. “Are you alright? You've been acting off and I don't fucking like it.” He looks at you, studying your face for any signs of anything wrong. You immediately turn defensive at his questioning. Shooting him down with a “I'm fine Scott, just tired.”

He speaks your name. “You're been tired for a week and a half. I haven't seen you at all basically. You haven't even been at dinner for Christ's sake.” 

You turn over, facing the wall instead of Scott's gaze. “Don't shut me out” he responds to your actions, placing a hand on your shoulder to roll you back over harshly. “What is wrong with you?” you practically yell at him, you use your anger to push his hand off of you, “Get out.”

His eyes widen at your outburst, letting you shove his hand off your shoulder and getting to his feet. He is momentarily stunned before his eyes soften. “How long?” Is all he says.

You roll back over to inspect the wall again, ignoring the question. “Y/n How long?” He repeats clearly. Your legs come up to your chest in a fetal position, and you bury your head in them. You feel his weight sit on the end of your bed. “You can't keep doing this to yourself” he says softly.

You stay silent, hoping that he will get the memo and leaving you alone. You didn't want to have this discussion. Scott places his head in his hands, thinking, before he looks at your curled up figure. “Come on, speak to me please, so I can help you.” He practically begs. 

You can help the tears that build up in your eyes, and slide down your face. You didn't want to be like this. Scott hears your racked sobs and his heart shatters. All he knows is that he needs to comfort you and make sure you are alright.

You feel the bed dip again and then a warm body pressing against your back. Scott's arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer to his chest. You let the tears fall as he whispers in your ear that it's going to be alright and that he is going to help. 

His hand rubs soothing circles over your shirt where your hip rests, making you feel more grounded than you had a few minutes ago. His hushed tone and gentle words make you feel safe in his arms, letting you know that he cares more than he lets on. 

He slowly turns you in his arms, so that your head is tucked under his. You sobs shake your frame, and he lets you cry into his cotton t-shirt. Slowly your tears come to a stop and he speaks to you softly, “it's going to be alright, okay? We're going to get you some help and you will be better again.” He places his lips against your forehead after you nod slightly but enough for him to feel. 

You spend the rest of the day flush against Scott as he assures you that it will work out. A glimmer of hope erupts in your chest.

Please please please reach out if you are struggling. You are on this earth and you are loved. Below are some helplines if you are having a tough time. My messages are ALWAYS open if you need someone to talk to. 💙💙💙

Helplines

Taglist: @heartsforanakin @qvnthesia @ysrjune @anisscarletstarlet

[kitty384]

Even in Silence, I'm With You

Summary: The baby hasn’t moved. Not all day. And you haven’t said a word—not wanting to panic Loki, not trusting your own voice. But that quiet dread has taken root deep inside you. It’s only when Loki touches your bump and feels the same stillness that the illusion breaks. What follows is fear, magic, and the most fragile kind of hope. Because your child isn’t gone. They’re just waiting—for their father’s voice.

Content Warnings: pregnancy fear (baby not moving), emotional distress, mild panic, healing magic, resolution with movement, soft fluff after heaviness

You didn’t mean to keep it to yourself.

At first, it was just a few hours.

Then five.

Then seven.

No flutters. No rolls. No gentle nudges against your ribs.

Just silence.

Just… stillness.

You told yourself it was fine. Maybe they were tired. Maybe they’d changed positions. Maybe you were overthinking it. After all, everything was fine yesterday. Everything had been fine.

But as the sun began to set and shadows crept in, so did fear.

And you still didn’t say anything.

Not when Loki brought you tea.

Not when he curled behind you on the couch.

Not when he kissed your shoulder and asked softly, “How are my loves tonight?”

You smiled.

Nodded.

Lied.

It wasn’t until later—when you climbed into bed and adjusted the blankets over your bump—that he finally noticed.

He was brushing his fingers lightly over your belly, whispering in Old Norse, the way he always did before sleep.

And when there was no response, he paused.

Frowned.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said softly, eyes on your stomach.

You froze.

Then, quietly, brokenly—

“They haven’t moved.”

His eyes snapped to yours.

You swallowed hard. “Not since I woke up. I didn’t want to… say anything. In case it was nothing.”

He was already reaching.

Already pulling the blankets down.

Already pressing his cool, steady hand over your skin.

And when he felt it—that same, hollow stillness—you saw the fear ripple across his face.

Raw. Real.

“Lie back,” he said gently, already moving. “Let me try something.”

Loki knelt beside the bed, both hands cradling your belly now.

His magic shimmered faintly beneath his palms, icy blue and gold.

Runes lit the air, ancient and protective.

You closed your eyes, clutching the sheets as tears slipped free.

“What if something’s wrong?” you whispered.

His voice cracked as he answered, “Then we will face it. Together.”

He began murmuring again—softer now, ancient words humming low in his chest like a heartbeat.

His magic sank deeper.

Searching.

Seeking.

Calling.

And then—

A flicker.

Like a whisper.

Then another.

Kick.

You gasped.

Loki froze.

Then smiled—small, stunned, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“They’re here,” he breathed. “They’re with us.”

You covered your mouth as your chest heaved.

The baby kicked again—stronger this time, like they’d been waiting to hear his voice.

And suddenly, it all came rushing out of you—the fear, the relief, the weight you hadn’t even known you were carrying.

You sobbed, and Loki was already holding you.

Cradling your bump from behind, kissing your cheek, whispering thank yous into your hair.

“They just needed me,” he murmured. “They needed us.”

You didn’t sleep right away that night.

You lay awake for hours, hands joined over your belly, waiting for every little movement.

And Loki never stopped touching you.

As if he could keep them safe through sheer will alone.

As if loving you both hard enough could hold the stars in place.

And maybe…

It could.

Masterlist

Request

[frozenparadize]

Headcanon about Atsushi, hugs, and chuuatsu bc i'm hopeless

It always hit me how Atsushi rushes to hug his loved ones after lethal danger is avoided. He thought he'd never see this person again, but they are alive, they're here. He stumbles into it, throws himself into tackle, hugs them closer to his chest, relief and joy so strong it hurts. This is such an expression of love through movement, he goes there with all abandon.

So, regular cooperative work AU! I imagine when Chuuya first got to be embraced like that after another near-death Corruption effort, it would really be a momentarily shock. His world was always harsh, the way he's used to give and recieve care was always different - guarded, covered by humor. And there Atsushi is, so raw, happiness and desperation mixed, accidentally nearly knocking them both off-balance with impact but his actual embrace is so careful. And pains after Corruption are almost numbed out for a second by feeling of being loved this completely, this openly. Chuuya would be stunned. And then, the gradual answering movement of hands around Atsushi's waist. Quiet, only for one person to hear, Glad you pulled through it too, kid.

After Chuuya'd got embarassed, probably, maybe even irritated -especially if it was public and Dazai is there to smirk and taunt Going soft there chibi? How cute. Atshushi-kun, look what you did to him, he's blushing. And Chuuya is flipping Dazai off behind Atsushi's back and pulling away, not too briskly so he doesn't startle him, not really letting go until Atsushi does, mumbling about how he had it worse and its not a big deal, come here fucking mackerel i'm not that weak i can't punch your lights out. And then he'd see Atsushi's half-teared up smile and left bereft of speech again.

I think that could be a flood gate opening, hugging with all his heart as Atsushi's way to say I care for you, i'm truly happy when I feel you close and warm - and Chuuya learning to accept it. Little by little, not only after extreme circumstance, more and more as just expression of joy - welcome after long break in cooperative work, congratulations during two organizartions joint celebration of holidays, sometimes even just as greeting. Dfferent kinds of embrace, too - long and close if they are alone and its been long time away, easy in greeting, reserved in celebration. And playful, too, of course. By the whim, even in the pause during battle. XDD

[just-your-average-author]

TIT RECAP/THOUGHTS

SPOILERS OBV

Okay so firstly the open PSA that Dan wrote about "no photos or videos if you do, I will sue your ass to the ground" and "no flash photography do you want Phil to fall off the stage...again?!?!?" killed me. it was so cute

preshow playlist, stunning, beautiful all around bops.

the sudden cut off of the music and lights to signal the show started, genuinely shocked and I was SAT let me tell you.

THEY CAME OUT AND THEY WERE REAL?!? NOT A SIMULATION?? listen I still can't get over that, I can't believe they were real people who look and sound exactly like they do on my tv at home!! I was so focused on them and soaking every moment in, I couldn't handle it

have I mentioned how attractive they are?!?!?

okay also literally Phil straight up STOPPED THE SHOW BECAUSE HE HAD TO SNEEZE AND DAN JUST STARED AND WAS LIKE PHIL WTF and I loved every second I was like yes this is straight up what they do in videos, let's have our little squirrel moment babes.

plus it made it feel even more silly and improv, overall I know obv they scripted a lot but it was sooo interactive and they ad libbed so much and I adored it

the dollhouse recap i swear wtf. first off, it was such a creative and fun idea and the different sets, and dressed up dolls that the clothes matched!! also okay I'm so sorry I had no idea the random sex positions would be a theme of the show so I was gobsmacked, but the 69ing during pinof??? "so we did what 2 closeted twinks did upon meeting each other for the first time.... put sharpie's cat whiskers on!!!" shut up for the love.

I genuinely loved the role model or no-el model segment. my show was in NC so they first option for Dan as the Mr. Lawyer was he bans ___ and someone said south carolina and they both just were rendered speechless and were like damn oh dear but laughing too.

The boxing match was so hot dear heavens, Dan's expression when Phil came out in the fake- *cough* I mean very real abs. He was acting for his LIFE.

the confessions were so good, just wish it lasted a little longer. the yapping was good and also idk if this was standardized but the whole thing where Phil said "I have a cute but also sociopathic thing going on and I think it's working for me 😌" like shut up you're so adorable

omg the quick change where they kept their mics on and narrated so many innuendos I was dying omg so silly and so funny I loved it. I was really impressed with how fast they changed, but also talked the whole time.

I loved every single solitary part of this show and I loved how they joked about how they were sorry we all went to school with whiskers then got out in the trash (cause yeah basically) and how they literally did raise us and should be blamed for us being feral not our actual legal guardians.

okay so. this show 9/10. here's where the last 1 point went.

please don't kill me, but I wasn't a fan of the song. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but the whole show was so raw and perfect and then the song was just really synthetic and overly autotuned where I personally didn't even hear their voices. like I couldn't tell who was singing which part. the ukulele part was cute, and I really hoped that would've been all of it, I guess the internet is here and interactive introverts and everything's fine just was so good you couldn't raise the bar again, but that was just my personal opinion, I know a lot of people loved the song and it was catchy and cute, I'm just not personally a fan of kpop/synthesized music so I was a little disappointed in the song but the dancing slapped so hard.

Dan flawlessly executing every move and strut and making eye contact with us while Phil very intentionally was focused on not tripping or walking off the stage and looking at Dan a few times to check if he was doing it right MY HEART.

cuties, gay, both of them, love them

overall I spent last night frantically calculating if I could afford to spontaneously go see the Nashville show as well and spend another 10 hours in the car today but regretfully thought against it.

[snowleopardtherebel]

Hey! There was a bunch of people (a surprising amount really) who liked my idea for a rottmnt au! So I thought, hey! Why not post the first chapter on here and see how people like it!

so uh. here it goes ig lol. its 6k words so i had to split it up actually

TRIGGER WARNINGS

this segment doesn't have as many but uh

major character death

gore/blood/violence

I'll probably post the second half later if anyone wants to read more :D

The sound that Donnie makes when the portal closes on their twin is something that tears Raph apart. It's somewhere between a choked sob and a scream. Raw, painful, like Donnie is forcing the sound out through shredded vocal chords. Raph has never heard them make the sound before.

Raph can't see out of his right eye. That side of his face hurts, radiates pain like nothing he's ever felt.

"Don—" His voice catches and he coughs. "Donnie. Donnie, he's— he's gone."

"No," Donnie shakes their head. Frantic. They can barely stand. "No, no, no, he's— he's not, we can get him! We– have Casey open the portal again, he—"

"We can't do that," Raph whispers. "We can't, Donnie."

"No," Donnie repeats. Over and over again, arm clutched to their chest, a sob building in their throat. "No, no, he— he can't—"

Raph can barely stand up, on shaking legs threatening to give out underneath his weight, but he opens his arms. Not forcing, but a question. His younger brother falls into the embrace and Raph wraps his arms around them. They sob, face buried in his plastron.

Mikey is still staring up at the sky. Fists clenched.

"Mikey," Raph looks up. "It's— It's over."

Mikey shakes his head furiously. The gesture is almost childish, shoulders raised, eyes squeezed shut.

"Leo never gave up on us," He hisses. "I'm not giving up on him."

Hands held out in front of him, shaking, Mikey reaches. Through the fabric of reality itself, the air before him crackling and warping and burning. The hole that opens up is a glowing golden that mirrors the cracks that open up on his arms.

And right as Raph's eye widens, right as he pushes himself up to help, something snaps.

Mikey screams.

Drops his hands.

The portal closes.

Gasping, sobbing, cracked bleeding arms held to his chest, Mikey screams. Screams and screams and screams, until his voice gives out. Like Donnie. Like Donnie, who is no longer making any noise, who's shoulders shake with silent sobs.

"Raph? Donnie? Guys!"

April's voice glitches, distorts over the comms. But they can hear her.

"April?" Raph's voice is barely a whisper. He clears his throat but can't bring himself to make it louder. "We— Staten Island, we—"

"Pa– Papa," Donnie wheezes. "I— Raphie I want— Dad—"

"I know bud," Raph's heart breaks again. "Just— hold on. Ok?"

"Me and Casey'll come get you," April says. "Or— well, I have to find him first. Just hang on. Ok?"

Mikey is still sobbing. His arms are still bleeding. His eyes glow orange behind his eyelids, faintly.

Donnie doesn't say anything. They don't move, don't talk, don't respond to April.

All three of them sit there. Stunned. Injured.

And Leo is gone.

Leo, despite himself, feels a terrified scream building up in his throat.

He clamps his hands over his mouth, even though the movement brings a wave of nausea. Krang Prime shrieks somewhere, though the echo makes it hard to tell where.

Leo is floating.

He has a concussion, definitely. The world spins around him— or maybe that's the low gravity doing the work. Everything hurts, and he's cold, and he misses his brothers already, the small kid wailing for his brothers after being separated from them in the sewers.

His brothers.

Leo forces his tired, broken, aching limbs to move. He can find a hiding spot, he can. There are loads of spaces to hide. And his brothers will find him.

"Oook," He whispers. Talking hurts. Thinking hurts. "Right. Gotta ass— assess the damage…find somewhere to hide…"

He lost his katanas. One of them is on Earth, yes. The other, he knows, spun off somewhere into the Prison Dimension. Maybe he can find it?

There is a Krang mech suit— abandoned— suspended in front of him. But Prime screeches again and Leo is hit with that primal sense of fear and everything hurts too much.

There is a gap in the rubble. He dives for it. Wriggles through, gasping at the pain from his shell.

"Gonna… look like a crime scene out there," He jokes to himself. "Ok. Oook. Let's s–see here."

The walls are closing in.

No— no, he curses to himself. No, it's not. Come on, you can do this.

Krang's roar makes him crawl faster. There's barely enough room to turn around. Can't go from here.

Something crashes down on the ground above him. Near him.

"No," He breathes. "No, no, no, no, please,"

"PEST!!"

"Please," Leo half-sobs, curls up as much as the tight space, his injuries will allow. The ground shakes again. "P—please I– please I don— I d-don't want—"

Rubble clatters down the small space. A rock hits his shell, his bloody, cracked carapace, and he bites back a whimper.

"Where are you, you PEST????"

Thank Pizza Supreme the space opens up. His arms, legs, shell, everything are on fire. He doesn't even have the energy to shift positions. The fog is creeping in and he's too tired.

They'll come for him, soon. They'll get him out.

"Shit— Raph! Dad!"

"I got him. I got him. Just—"

"Dad!"

They're laughing. Laughing at them, at Leo's scream when he sees Splinter. At Raph, eyes burning, who cradles his father's body in his hands.

"Leo! Retreat!"

He wishes Splinter was here.

"I'm going to fix your shoulder. Ok?"

Donnie only gives a mute nod, seated on the edge of the hospital bed, free hand gripping the side so hard Raph worries for them. Casey removes the ice pack, gets Donnie's arm into the right position, and shoves. Donnie lets out a muffled scream, bent double, teeth digging into their bottom lip.

"Raphael," Hands tilt his face to the left. "I need you to look at me. I cannot address the matter of your eye while you are looking away."

"Sorry Draxum," Raph says quietly. His mind has gone back to Leo. Leo, his little brother. The Lair is busy, with April and Casey and Draxum bustling around, but it feels lonely, isolated, without Leo there cracking jokes. Is he hurt? Scared?

He misses Splinter. Gone for less than a day and everything just…falls apart.

Of course, it's been more than a day now. How did things fall apart so quickly?

"Is Mikey ok?"

"Michelangelo will be fine," Draxum folds up Raph's mask and sets it to the side. Raph tries not to look at the sheer amount of blood on it.

"Donnie," April hisses in a breath. Raph doesn't see them, or April, or Casey. He's glaring daggers into the floor. "Donnie, you need t–"

"Don't!" Donnie all but shrieks. Something clatters to the floor and Raph looks up. The softshell backs up, breath hissing out in a low whine. "Don't— Don't— I c–an't— I don't want—"

"I know you don't want us to touch your shell," April holds her hands up placatingly. "But Don— it's going to get infected—"

Donnie lets out a frustrated whine, hands scratching at their head, and Raph reaches out. The gesture is intended to be comforting, but Donnie flinches away.

"I–" Their voice is almost inaudible. "I want Leo to do it."

Raph freezes. The blood roars in his ears.

"Ok," April breathes. Her voice breaks. "Ok. Ok, let's— let's get your arm in a cast. Casey?"

Casey nods. Draxum brings a wet rag to Raph's face, slowly, gently, to wipe away the blood, and something hisses, twists, fizzes in the back of his mind. Raph stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over the bench, and everyone turns to look at him.

"Sorry," He gasps out. "S– sorry. Raph just, ah. Tripped. It's— it's fine."

"Would you prefer to do it yourself?" Draxum's voice holds no judgment. "I understand if the subject of a lost eye is a traumatic thing for you."

"No," Raph swallows the nausea that arises when he thinks of the blood. "'S fine."

"Alright Mikey, your turn," Casey moves on to the youngest brother. "I'm going to assess your shell first, ok?"

"Leo," Mikey whispers. Ducks away from the touch. "I— I have to find Leo. i have to get him back, he could be hurt—"

"We need to treat your burns—"

"I can do it!" Mikey bursts out. "I can, I can do it, you said I could!" Casey looks horrified, backing up at Mikey's outburst. "You said I could, and I was going to! I can do it, I sw— I swear—"

"You are in no position to do so," Draxum says sternly, packing Raph's empty eye socket with gauze and bandages. "Your arms need to be treated first. Your injuries need attention. As do your brothers."

"So does Leo's!" Mikey's eyes are bright and shining. "He's— he's lost, alone, hurt—"

"And what do you expect to do now?" Draxum tsks. "Let me see your arms."

"But—"

"Your arms, Michelangelo."

Mikey chokes back a sob and holds out his cracked, bleeding arms for the yokai to look at. Casey Jr. sets down the armful of bandages he's carrying and drags a hand down his face. It's nearly 3 in the morning. None of them have slept.

"Master Leonardo," He starts. "He—I—"

"Closed himself in," Raph finishes. "Yeah. You— got the key?"

Casey flinches. "I'm— I didn't want to, I just…"

"No one blames ya, Casey," Raph shakes his head. "You were jus' followin orders."

He misses his brother already. Donnie stares off into space while April wraps their injuries and helps Casey with the cast. She gently asks them if she and Casey can at least remove the shards of their battle shell that were lodged into the back of their shell. They flinch away from her. Shrug.

Raph, with every passing moment, draws further and further in on himself. He failed. Failed all of them— his dad, Leo, Donnie, Mikey. April. Casey.

All of them stay in the medbay well into the afternoon working tirelessly. In the end, he lets Mikey and Donnie have the medical cots. Donnie finally agrees to let their shell be treated, though less in words and more actions.

Raph gets left alone with his thoughts.

And thinks. About Leo.

His breath comes out in a shivering, freezing cloud.

Good news: Prime has lost him. For now. He manages to get out, to traverse the mess of broken Krang tech.

Bad news: Literally everything else.

"Ooooook," He shivers. Whispers, barely even a breath. "Ok, ok, o–ok. Where…Where do I go?"

Of course, nobody answers him.

The gravity is normal here. Or well, normal-ish. The weight of it nearly feels like an anvil slamming down on his already cracked-open shell. There's nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.

He couldn't run even if he wanted to.

He remembers the claws, slamming down on his plastron again and again. The terror he felt. Begging, pleading. Screaming for the pain to end, please let him go, please.

He wants his brothers. He wants his dad.

He's dead, his pain-addled brain sings. Dead, dead, dead, it's your fault.

"O—ok," He stumbles up on shaking legs. "Oooook Face Ma— man. Let—s see here. We're lost, stuck h–here, it's cold. You're hurt."

He's scared.

No— terrified.

He takes a shaky step forward and nearly collapses. The vertigo is intense enough to make his stomach churn, alongside the pounding of his head. His entire lower back is on fire. He needs to find some place to check the damage.

There. Across the large expanse.

The.

The large, open space.

There's a destroyed Krang…spaceship? It's several hundred feet away. That's several hundred feet where Leo could be seen.

They'll come for me, Leo thinks to himself. They'll come for me. They'll find me.

He doesn't have his swords. he thinks he can feel the vaguest pull, vaguest nudge of his ninpo tugging him toward it, somewhere. Teleportation would be quicker.

But he's so, so tired.

He repeats the mantra he's come up with over and over again as he staggers, a painful snail's pace. Already, he can sort of guess what's bruised, bloody, broken. He's cut his lips multiple times on the sharp jagged edges of his teeth. Some jaw injury could explain the struggle to get his words out, the swelling, the pain.

The ache of his ankle is something he's already gotten used to. Hell, he's been walking on it. Somehow. He doesn't know how the fuck he did that, but it works.

With a last desperate gasp he drags himself through the threshold of the ship. Drags the door closed.

"N—no," he mutters as the fog creeps in. "No, no, no, no, no, slee– sleeping, no…" He'll never get anywhere if he keeps passing out at the latest convenience. "C'mon…"

Fighting, desperately fighting at the fog that crowds at the edge of his vision, he forces himself to sit up. Gasps at the pain.

Like the rest of the dimension, the ship is cold. Leo's breath comes out in clouds in the air.

His arms and fingers are already beginning to go numb. His legs and feet, less so. He's been walking. His nose is running— or is that blood?

When he looks around, he only really finds rusty metal. A control panel he has no idea what to do with. Seats.

His fanny pack. Right. He has that. He should have medical supplies. Right?

Moving his arms is a chore. Too much energy, too much pain. But he does, and when his hands go to his waist, they come back bloody. But he tears off the pack, opens it with shaky hands.

Luckily, his supplies seem to be…mostly intact. For now. There's a near-empty bottle of painkillers, a roll of bandages, and a needle and thread.

He tilts his head back. Great. Hopefully this will last him until his brothers come and get him. He doesn't exactly know how, but surely. They will. They wouldn't leave him here.

Leo wants so badly to pop a few painkillers now, dull the radiating pain, but he needs to find where he's injured the most. In the small part of the ship that the metal is somewhat reflective, he gets a decent (ok…maybe not decent) look of himself for the first time.

"Aw ma— man," He whispers. "Messed up mmmmmy face. I'm su— sup— supposed to be the Face Man."

His face is covered in bruises, scratches, blood. Dried blood tracks his face from his nose, and his jaw is swollen and awkward looking. And there's a long, deep cut that slices across his face stripe. Aw. He liked his face stripes. Likes them.

His arms are a mess of gashes and cuts. Bloody from the shoulders down. From this position he can see cracks in his carapace, and blood. Lots of it. How much blood is he losing?

He tries to turn, to crane his neck to see the damage to his shell, but the movement causes so much pain he stops.

Ok. Ok. Baby steps.

How long has he been here? A few hours, maybe. There isn't a sun or moon. Or stars, are there any stars? He risks a look up outside. He can't tell.

Prime lost him. For now.

First things first. Leo doesn't have a fire, doesn't know where to get things to make a fire. But he needs to boil water if he wants to sterilize the needle, and. Well.

He'll save that for more serious injuries though. It can wait.

For now, he tears off his arm and leg wraps and uses them to mop up the blood. It's slow work, and he's already starting to feel lightheaded, but he tears off a strip of bandages and wraps them around the worst of the gashes. There's not much more he can do for the numerous broken bones he probably has.

He doesn't want to fall asleep.

He does so anyway.

They'll find me. They'll find me. They'll find me.

"We'll get him."

"Mikey—"

"We'll. Get. Him." Mikey retorts. Draxum fusses around him, examining the mystic cracks on his arms. It feels like it's been days but it's only been hours.

And they're arguing. Again.

Donnie slides off the cot as Mikey shouts something at Raph, pulling their headphones up over their ears. The stitches on their shell pull uncomfortably and they shudder. They can still feel the touch of hands on their shell. Donnie can't do a lot with a broken hand but they can sure as hell try.

What else can't they do?

Oh, right. Walking.

"Woah, woah, woah!" April lunges to catch them as they stumble, lurch forward, nearly trip. "Donnie— hold on, hold on!"

"'M fine," Donnie hisses, low and tired. "I ne—needa get to th' lab—"

"You're hurt, Donnie," April says firmly. "Casey, what's the damage?"

"Concussion, skull fracture, broken arm." Casey rattles off from across the room. His words are punctuated by a huge yawn. "Uh…puncture wounds on their arms, shell, legs, but we got that covered up."

"Nnnno more stitches," Donnie grumbles.

"You don't need more stitches," April reassures. "Not right now at least. You can go to the lab later, alright?"

April is a blur. Donnie is dizzy and tired and the bandages and stitches are itchy and uncomfortable and they just want their twin back.

"I need my computer," They mumble. "I n— need t—"

"No computer while you have a concussion," Raph calls. Donnie flips him off, and the snapper lets out such an offended sound they give a snort of laughter despite everything that aggravates their injury again and they hiss in pain.

"Let's get you back onto the bed, ok bud?" April wraps her arms around them gently, avoiding their shell. "I know you're tired."

Donnie grumbles something unintelligible, even to their own ears. April smiles.

"I want Leo," They curl tighter around themselves. "I— I want my brother back."

"I know," April whispers. "I know. We'll get him back. Promise."

Mikey has since stopped arguing with Raph. His head rests on the older turtle's plastron as Draxum lectures him on the danger of mystic overuse. Donnie curls under the sheets, takes their phone from a spot underneath the pillow, pulls up the trackers on each of them.

Raph and Mikey's trackers are functioning as normal. Mikey's heart rate spikes once or twice but Donnie pays no attention. They're focused on the blue screen, and the red error message that flashes there.

TRACKER OFFLINE.

[denpa-dere]

prompt 10 for luci!!!

Prompt: “What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” with Lucifer

Warnings: Alcohol/Drinking

___

Okay, so, maybe you two had formed the bad habit of egging each other on. Not that he'd ever admit to letting anyone, let alone some little human, get under his skin and sway his judgment. No. He was Lucifer, first-born of the seven lords of hell and Avatar of Pride. As the prince's right hand, he had an image to uphold, always. 

But between you and the prince's foolish encouragement, he was drunk.

The evening had gotten away from the lot of you, having fun and drinking on Lord Diavolo's dime in celebration of another RAD project successfully brought to completion. As the night drew on and the crowd thinned, some of the other demon brothers with weaker constitutions trickled out of the upscale bar, heading for home. You waved off Beel (saddled with an unconscious Belphie) when he offered to walk you back to the House of Lamentation. You could handle yourself, you reassured him. 

Besides, it was rare to see Lucifer in such fine form: disheveled, face flushed, laughing raucously. He slouched over the bar, covering his face with one hand, trying to compose himself, and it was so- for lack of a better word- human that it made your heart swell. 

You excused yourself for a quick trip to the restroom, wanting to collect yourself before seeing what else the night had in store. Fairly drunk yourself, you started to psych yourself up. Yes, obviously between Diavolo and Barbatos, Lucifer would get home safely no matter what state he was in. But you wanted to be the one to take him home. The thought of speaking alone with a more loose-lipped, candid version of him excited you a little too much. 

You caught your reflection in the mirror and paused, dismayed. Maybe it was the harsh bathroom lighting, but you looked tired, older than your years. A cold weight settled in your stomach. You adjusted your hair and tried to shake off your sudden burst of insecurity. You were thinking too hard. 

You had been gone for just a moment, but returned to find your seat at the bar taken by a beautiful demon. Even after all this time, the natural beauty of most demons still sometimes stunned you. The demon leaned in close, speaking to a very animated Lucifer and laughing coquettishly as he described something you couldn’t quite hear. You felt the air punched out of your lungs and numbly made your way over to gather your things. 

"Hey, it's getting late, I'm going to head back," You said, throat dry but still smiling. Only Barbatos seemed to hear you. You bid him farewell and made your escape. 

You felt stupid. How arrogant were you, anyway? You may be friends, you may live under the same roof, but you were still just you. 

You heard your name called and turned, squinting in the darkness. It didn't take long for Lucifer to catch up with you. 

"Why didn't you say you were leaving? You shouldn't be walking alone this late," He scolded you. 

"I did," You replied with a thin-lipped smile, "You were busy."

He racked his brain for a moment and then chuckled, "Ah, that. I swear, I can never find a moment's peace."

“You seemed like you were having a good time,” You mused, continuing your walk home, “You should have stayed.”

You obliged, letting him turn you to face him. Maybe it was the alcohol, but tears were beginning to prick the corners of your eyes. He regarded you with an expression you couldn’t quite place- pity? That was your uncharitable interpretation, anyway.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked, sounding somewhat offended, “Do you have better things to do than stand to be in my company?”

You clicked your tongue. Of course he would go there.

“No, Lucifer,” You sighed, feeling too raw to argue, “That’s not… I didn’t want to intrude if you were, you know, feeling a connection or something.”

Awkward and ineloquent. Nice. You could feel him staring into the side of your head but refused to look up. Your face burned. This wasn’t going how you had hoped. You sped up a bit, wanting to be home and done with it, already. You could sleep it off and pretend this didn’t happen, that he didn’t just see how transparently you were wounded.

Lucifer blatantly bit back a laugh and you bristled at his condescension. Whatever you thought was between the two of you had never been spoken aloud. It now laid vulnerable and dangling in front of your face, and he was laughing at you. Perhaps wishful thinking had caused you to misinterpret things. That cold weight in your stomach grew heavier.

“Is that- are you jealous?” He asked, incredulous. You didn’t reply, keeping your gaze straight ahead. His eyes widened.

“You are,” He said, reaching for your hand but catching the sleeve of your coat, “Stop, stop, stop.”

“You forget yourself,” He said, a bit more sober than before, “And our pact. You are mine, does that mean nothing to you?”

Fuck, now you were crying. This pressure was too much, the dam was about to burst.

“It means everything to me,” You choked out.

He took both of your freezing hands in his, “I have been around for a very long time,” He said, as if soothing a child, “You are the only human I have ever made a pact with. The only one I have ever trusted with that sort of power-”

You huffed, “I’m not talking about pacts.”

“I know that,” Lucifer said, silently pleading you would not have him elaborate. Not here, in some cold, dingy street. Not now, too drunk to give you the confession you deserved, “But what part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Childhood videos (leeminho)

His laugh hadn't changed one bit. The cute little giggle and shy smile that graced his lips every time he laughed had remained exactly the same. Much like those big sparkly doe eyes and that cute bunny face he made every time he was either amazed or surprised or just plain confused which only added to how irresistible he looked. Baby Minho and adult Minho were the exact same, he just grew taller and stronger. And his arms and hands got veiny. And his thighs grew thick and beautiful and strong. Oh. His thighs. Oh.

You were SNIFFLING at how cute your boyfriend was as a baby a second ago and now you suddenly could not shake the recurring image of him just sitting anywhere with his legs spread apart in that manly, gruffish way from your head. You knew pretty well how nice it felt to randomly sit on him just to get him flustered and also how he secretly loved it since he would sometimes just openly invite you to sit on his lap "just for fun" cause you apparently "looked nice in that skirt".

Something like a mild pang hits your lower abdomen as you feel a little hot rush pervading you but you just shrug and deem it down to you being all wrapped up in the blankie despite it being late March and not too cold at all outside, "it's so hot outside, damn it". Minho barges in, quickly taking off his jacket and breathing heavily as he presses the back of his hand over his sweaty forehead and pinches his shirt away from his chest as if to ventilate himself with the movement. And you just stare at him in awe cause how could you not? Back from practice and clearly bothered and he still looked stunning.

"Well, hello to you too", you mumble as you watch him drop on the couch right next to you, his head resting on your shoulder as an exasperated sigh leaves his lips. He sprawls on the couch and mumbles something incoherent as you gently brush his hair away from his forehead, "long day at dance practice?", you ask softly, looking at the way his eyelids slide down and his long lashes almost touch his cheek underneath his closed eyes, "6 hours. Followed by a jogging session with Chan hyung. I feel like fucking jelly", "oh dear, why didn't you just come straight home? I'm sure Chan would have understood", you coo, loving the way he's just so unfiltered and raw and comfortable with you, even a little cuddly as he tucks himself closer to you on your lap and reaches for your hand and places it on his chest just to pat it gently. "it's alright, he wasn't feeling his best at practice and said he wanted to go outside for a run to clear his head a bit so I figured he needed a running buddy".

Hearing him being so caring and sweet natured tugs at your heart strings and you realise you're once again on and off about your emotional response to anything Minho related today. Which is weird but also is it really? He had this duality to him that made him so hot and so cute and so cool but warm hearted at the same time and you absolutely loved that about him.

"Were you watching my childhood homemade videos again?". Busted. You smile at him sheepishly as he grabs your phone that has been idle and indefinitely paused on his very cute baby face giving the camera a kiss, "uhm... Maybe?", you scratch your arm nervously but Minho just chuckles, "this is the third time this month I need to tell my mom to stop sending you such compromising material", "but you were so adorable. Look at that face!!! You were the cutest little kid ever!", you protest as he locks your phone and places it on the coffee table away from you, "I know. I was born pretty",he smirks and you playfully poke his cheek which makes him giggle IN THAT WAY and you swear he hasn't aged a single year and you literally choke on a strangled noise coming from within you.

Minho studies your face from his upside down perspective for a bit and then immediately sits up straight, "you are on your period", he declares. Just like that. Deadass. "No? No I'm not", you reply firmly though you have a really hard time holding back your giggles, but he ignores you and fishes a hand right underneath your shirt, squeezing at the softness there, making your breath hitch, "you are about to be then. Your boobs are bigger and firmer. One minute you're ogling me like I'm a piece of meat and the next you're choking on your tears over baby me. Clearly your hormones are going haywire. Now the question is: are they the overly emotional kind or the overly horny ones?". It takes you a full minute to register all that and put two and two together along with the fact that you have been experiencing some body temperature fluctuations and your tummy does feel kinda funny:" uh... Both?".

"Okay. Let's go make a baby then",he deadpans and springs to his feet, grabbing your hand in the process so he can pull you upright, "WAIT WHAT? Minho what the fuck", you start laughing just at how random he is and how you wish you could take a peek inside his head sometimes, "come on. I'll be gentle. I don't have much body energy left for today anyway", he grumbles, sighing as his legs ache a bit while he drags your giggly mess upstairs and into your bedroom.