#i did too good for you to just throw it in the void

[tenaciouschronicler]

October 11 2024 2009

Ok ok ok ok ok, wow theres a lot going on here. I took so many screenshots to piece things together but tumblr only lets me post 10 :')

SO. WV does make it up the ladder and we zoom out to see Zazzerpans hand that was missing from the video feed in Roses house.

Zooming even further out, the bunker is in the middle of a crater, presumably from the meteor yet to hit Rose. We do see what the countdown achieved however. The cylindrical bunker rockets into the sky, with the green Sburb house logo painted on the outside. WV and Serenity are taken 'A CONTINENT WESTWARD' where we once again see Johns home hit with the meteor. We also get coordinates: Lat 47.362101, Long -122.054144, Elev 4130 (!). The impact completely wiped out the entire suburb and changed the shape of the river. As time passed, sand accumulated in the crater and from it sprouted a tree.

This tree grew some sort of sphere shaped bunker(?) also with the Sburb house logo that then dropped as the season changed to fall (and how odd it must be to change with the seasons that no longer exist).

We learn some things. First, this is where Peregrine Mendicant is and explains where they got : 1. the shopping cart and 2. all those mailboxes. I wonder what spurred their obsession with mailboxes or maybe thay treat them similar to how WV treats cans? Second, the star we saw approaching PM is actually WV rocketing by. WV spots PM and waves as PM gazes up. By this point PM has made it to the bunker so at some point hopefully we will get to see inside.

'AN OCEAN WESTWARD' and 'NOT MANY' years in the past a volcano is active. Zooming out into space a familiar spirograph appears in space and launches a meteor.

The resulting crater is partially filled with the lava from the volcano upon where Something or Someone builds a pyramid temple with seven layers. Each layer is engraved with Sburb spirographs reminiscent of the seven gates and atop this pyramid is a frog. There are also four pillars in the crater with smaller ones on the edge. Time passes and and waters rise, turning this into an island.

We jump to the present where Rose is attempting to get the generator running and narrowly misses getting hit with a fallling aflame tree. Mom gazes out the window, and even without eyes her demeanor is one that screams of knowing. How? I dont know. But as the lightning flashes we can see clearly what is on the side of their home.

Another spirograph.

Punching in 413, she reveales a secret bunker under Jaspers coffin. She knew this would happen. She planned for when it did. And I scream in frustration that we wont be able to ask why.

On the dark planet, Dad is alive and semi well. Captured, but not for long. We forget these are trick handcuffs. And this man has learned the trade his whole life.

What gets me is... does he just keep cake and shaving cream in his sylladex at all times? Are these his strife tools?? The second hes free he is guns-a-blazing ready to take on his captors and for that I applaud and fear him.

Back to the rooftop with Dave and Bro ready to strife against a blistering backdrop. Finally we see Bro beyond the silouhette as the light flashes across his shades.

WV finally reaches their destination, the frog temple, now beside a new crater where the volcano once stood. As the bunker descends we get more coordinates: Lat -0.955766, Long -174.759521, Elev 3077 and falling.

What battery had remained is now gone and WV gazes upon the frog.

End of Act 2

[kacievvbbbb]

Honestly despite my feelings about how the last arc of MHA went down I really love Deku and his story.

I just feel like a lot of the time we get these protagonists whose whole philosophy is it doesn’t matter what you were born as everyone can achieve greatness. But then the series goes on and it turns out that actually it DOES matter because the protagonist has this really great lineage and these really great powers you can only have through birth they were actually born born, predestined if you will, to do this.

But MHA actually sticks to its guns. Midoriya wasn’t revealed to have some great connection to all might that the universe had put in place. He wasn’t defended from some great lineage that makes him uniquely suited to this. Hell All for one didn’t even turn out to be his father, there was no hidden powerful quirk he was always meant to have. He was just Midoriya Izuku a boy who was in the right place at the right time and simply decided to act while the world did nothing. And that’s what really made him a hero.

I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I believe him a bit more when he goes anybody can be a hero if you just decide to act

[nishiyako]

After A Long Day (NSFW)

Paring : Kenji Sato x Reader

Tags : Doggy style, Vaginal penetration, Make outs, praise , after care, Fluffy ending, Reader has some type of long hair, established Relationship, Kenji has some sort of complex.

Summary : After a long day of work, Kenji comes home to his lovely girlfriend with a surprise, merch she got of his jersey. Seeing his name and player number on you does wonders to his already inflated ego.

Kenji Sato was everywhere, his face and name of hundreds of billboards and products, it dose something to someone's ego.

He loved the support from fans, the attention from media but most importantly, he loved coming home from a long day of interviews, events, and partiess to you.

Simple and lovable you.

He parked his bike outside before entering his mansion, placing his helmet and keys on the dinner table before seeing you sitting in the living room on your phone while the TV was running.

He made his way over to you, your eyes looked up from your phone screen to see him suddenlt infront of you, you can't lie that you got a little startled but you were more happy he was back before it got too late,

He bends down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face in the process. He sits beside you as he unzips his biker jacket, "whatcha' watching?" He asks, wondering what's got you so focused this late at night, throwing his jacket to the end of the couch promising himself he'll clean it up later, throwing his arm around your shoulder, pulling himself closer.

"It's a tie between the TV and my phone if I'm being honest" you giggled placing your phone down, you met his loving gaze, placing your hand on his chest, softly kissing his cheek "how was your day sweetheart?" You asked softly, almost as a way of apologizing on you being so voided.

"Good, busy as always." He said like he was waiting for that question all day, meeting your hand on his chest, moving it, holding it while it rests on his lap "Well, it was mostly interviews and shooting for promotions for the team, after that we had a few drinks."

You listened intently as he got into the details of his day, complaining mostly. Giving your thoughts and opinions whenever he asked.

"That's about it. What did you do the whole day?" He asked after wrapping up his day, "Nothing really, just watched TV and cleaned up here a bit, " you said plainly before you stood up from the couch.

"Something I ordered came in the mail though," you said with a smile on your face. "Yeah? What is it?" He asked, as your smile peaked his intrest.

You took his hand, pulling him over to the bedroom, perverted thoughts alredy entering his mind, thinking you probably ordered some slutty liengre and wanted to show him.

You sat him down on the bed as you escaped into the bathroom, asking him to wait for a moment as you closed the door.

As soon as that door shuts he alredy started imagining what you're gonna walk out wearing, probably wearing something tight and strapy, an idiotic smile alredy appearing on his lips from picturing you in something that small.

But he remembered you weren't the type to get something like that, maybe a new dress? Something light for summer. His past thoughts still lingering no matter how cute the dress would be, imagining just lifting it over your hips and fucking you dumb.

His hands covered his red tinted face from just imagening it, sexual frustration just from you keeping him in suspense, "Ken? You ready?" Your voice through the door snapping him back to reality "Huh? Yeah, yeah." He said, a slight stutter from his voice.

You creecked the door open, as he took a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

You wore an oversized jearsy with his team's name on it, it looked simple enough, He thought it was cute, swing you show support for his team, practicly his second family.

Until you turned around, moving your hair to the side and there he saw it, a big 7 and his last name on your back.

You couldn't miss it either, it was right there, black bold lettering on the thin white fabric. You walked closer to him as his eyes were fixated on the way it hugged your body and how your thighs were peaking of out of the fabric just bearly.

Straddling his lap as he still couldn't find the strength to move a muscle, until he did.

His shaky hand going under the jersey, rubbing your bare hip, as you kissed him, your hands running through his hair as his hands creeped up your thigh looking for some panties to pull down, truely a perfect way to end his day he thought.

A giggle exits your mouth as he pulled away from the kiss, a puzzled look on his face before he felt you push him down on the bed snapping him back to attention suddenly, your mouth alredy leaving marks on his neck eagerly, seeming like the both of you werent even on the same wavelength.

"You arnt gonna find something down there, I'm not wearing anything" you whisper nonchalantly before continuing to attack his neck with kisses and love bites.

Basically hinting the fact that you're weren't wearing panties.

"You planned this didn't you" he breathed out

Is eyebrows widen in suprise, he takes a mintue sinking it it before accepting his fate before he layed back with stupid smirk, enjoying the free hickies while he undid his jeans.

In a few minutes you found yourself under him, the jersey just slightly above your midriff, his eyes widened. Holy shit, you really weren't wearing anything under that.

His signiture grin on his face as he pulled down his jeans just above his thighs, he swore he saw hearts in your eyes when you felt him press against you.

He had a feeling you've been pent up for a while, he was just too busy to do anything about it, until now ofcourse.

You felt him pick you up and made you lay on your stomach, pulling your hips right against him, feeling him throb in-between your legs, so close yet so far from where you realy wanted it, you felt his hand grip onto the flesh of your hips.

He leaned down, closing the distance between you two, his chest right against your back and his lips millimeters away from your ear "Feel that? All for you babe." He said in a husky tone, right against your ear, a grin on his lips after hearing a whine come out of your mouth hearing those words.

Your body jolted, feeling something familiar prod inside you, His mouth still right against your ear, not changing a single thing. you heard his breath hitch everytime he gets deeper.

Your body shivered from the feeling, you've missed this. You've both missed this.

He held your hands over your head, pressing them against the bed sheets as he gently bucked his hips, moving carefully feeling how tight you were around him yet taking him so well.

He was taking it in, fucking his perfect girlfriend, having her perfect voice loud enough to echo around the house, thanking his perfect self he got a place far from anyone else.

He got to have you, all to himself, after a long work day, wearing a jersey with his name on it.

With his name on it.

He let's go of your hands remembering something, one of them holding you by your hips, rutting in and out of you while the other one tucks your hair to the side of your shoulder, revealing the back design of his last name and player number on your back.

Shit, he felt so egotistical and narcissistic but this was better than any kind of liengre or sundress you could ever buy.

Looked like a scene from a wet dream he could've had.

You felt him pick up the pace, started moving aimlessly yet his tip kept rubbing the perfect spongey spot inside you. Your voice started raising, getting louder than it always was, not like you could say anything from your fucked out state.

His muscles started to tense, getting lost into he feeling of being inside you, spitting out praise.

"You're doing great baby," or "you look so fucking good for me." He'd coo, with just saying how much he loves you, and parts of you like how your hair was a mess, how perfect it looked when his cock would disappear inside you, or just worshiping your ass.

And most importantly that desperate arch on your back, only making it easier for him to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

The room being filled with the sound of moans, skin slapping against skin and the creaking of the bedframe. Laser focused on the overwhelming feeling of your walls around him, fluids dripping down your thigh, staining the bed sheets.

"Fuckk, Kenji, Kenji!" you cried out, making him stutter in his thrusts, hearing his name escape your lips a few times.

Hundreds, thousands, even millions of fans have cried out his name but nothing was quite like that one.

He kept going, this time with quicker, more feverish thrusts making you start to babbel words, "Whyd you stop?" He teased "cmon, who do you belong to?" He said, a sinister laugh following his remark.

"You" you breathed out still being thrusted in and out to, "names baby, I'm gonna need names." He said in a faux pity tone, you didn't even have to turn around to know he had the biggest, dumbest smile on his face right now.

You melted in his grip, you moaned his name again with more passion, feeding that ego of his. Knowing only he was the one making you feel like this, the leg trembling, spot hitting, eye watering kind of sex.

With his player number and last name on your back, he was thinking of finnishing inside and starting a family alredy, making you really his.

But that would be a bit too much to baby trap you, he knew you weren't going anywhere.

Seeing his last name on your back just drove him crazy, sining in the thought that one place, one day, that's gonna be yours too.

He wakes up from his baby fever trance to your voice "Fuck, Kenji... I'm so fucking close" you curse out, your hand meeting his, his other one continually making you bounce against him.

His spare hand layers over yours, holding it against the bedsheets, as he closes the distance once more, his lips right against hers, "Go on, you've earned it." He says before buying his face into the crook of your neck.

At that moment, you started seeing stars

He feels your walls tightening around him and you moan out his name for the final time. Seeing your body tense up and legs shake for him was something he would never forget the feeling of, knowing how good he made you feel never gets old.

His thrusts slow down as you come down from your high. He pulls out stroking his shaft a few times to the view of your fucked out body, using the white opaque liquid as lube, spilling his warm seed onto your curves, some hitting the new jersey by accident.

"Shit, you might want to wash it now." He laughed, you were too tired to make a comment on him alredy cumming on your new jersey.

Minutes pass, maybe around an hour. You see your loving boyfriend bring you your favorite tea "still sore?" He asked, "just a bit.." you reply back.

Now in a new pair of clothes and him snuggling up to you in bed, turning on the TV and putting on both your favorite series.

Truley, the perfect way to end both your days.

●●●

A/N : Haven't posted in a hot minute, I know. Sorry to my followers, I know this is something new, but I swear the bnha fics r coming, there somewhere in my files 😭

A/N : Those who've read in in the first 13 hours actually pointed out there was a typo, so thank you for that <3. I'll try to spell check more diligently since I mostly only write late at night <33

[xazse]

Female!Reader × HybridPuppy!Yuji

The reader produces breast milk , which she expresses and donates to a shelter for small hybrids. HybridPuppy!Yuji often hugs her and presses himself against her chest to inhale the smell of milk, which makes his mouth water and his cock hard. In the end, he can't resist and begs his mistress to let him suck her milk. Or he sneaks into her bedroom at night and drinks her milk while she sleeps.

Instead of Yuji, you can have Satoru if you want to change the character

Notes: I love this so fucking much, I made a few changes I hope you don’t mind and I’m using Satoru btw because I don’t write for minors.

Pairings: PuppyHybrid!Satoru x LactatingFem!Reader

Warnings: I’m sorry but I’m warning ya now this is some nasty shit but a good nasty if ur into this! + Smut + Lactation + hybrids + reader has big boobs + possessive!Satoru + perv!Satoru + porn with plot + notproofread + bathroom sex + I think I spent too much time on plot and not enough porn sorry!

You love visiting the shelter near your house, it’s just a ten minute walk of you enjoying the scenery and speaking to the townspeople, they always greet you with the warmest smiles because they know you, they’ve known you for years.

In fact everyone here knows you: a widowed mother and wife, a mother whose children have been moved on to pursue their own hopes and dreams so in your little warm house it’s just you. You’ve noticed for a while a void in your heart, the loneliness does get to you some days but not today.

Recently a facility had been built, a hybrid facility, at first you hadn’t ever thought those existed because under new law hybrids are allowed to coexist around regular humans, they are to be treated as such it was a long time coming, it hurt your heart to see them being treated as outcasts.

You learned that this facility was for the young, abandoned and on occasion they’d take in adults who still couldn’t find their place.

And in that place you finally found your calling. for some odd reason you and your doctor couldn’t place you were still weirdly lactating, it was exhausting having sore breasts and an endless supply of milk you’d have to pour down the drain: too embarrassed to donate it in fear of being found out in the small town of people.

You awake up with full boobs that needed to be emptied or you’d spend the entire day in pain, pumping the milk was the only way, you’d only have to do it once a day but the sheer amount could keep a baby feed for the entire day.

You’d been talking to one of the workers of the facility and they’d been explaining how the young ones weren’t exactly taking well to the supplied formula milk, “they’d cry constantly” he exclaimed and it broke your heart into pieces the thought of them not eating hurts you, for the very first time you confided in the worker and he didn’t look disgusted not one bit in fact he seemed overjoyed.

“Disgusted? Why would I feel that way? This means the little ones will eat and not throw fits.” When he finishes that sentence a long drawn out sigh leaves his lips. You can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips.

Suguru you learn comes by your house to pick up the supplements and does he have some comments, he had waited a week to see how much you would produce.

“All this?!” You stand in your doorway shyly nodding in his presence, he’s actually appalled you weren’t lying when you said you have a good bit, he shakes the box in his hands and listens carefully, it’s hard for you to watch him do that right in front of you and not get a little flustered.

He thanks you graciously and makes his way back to the facility, you really hope they like it, it was one hell of a week for you. Though the feeling you did something good swarms you with warmth.

After that it was found that they absolutely loved your milk, and you had plenty to give, it was so cute the way Suguru described their reactions and how priceless it was. One little one had whined for more: Yuji was a special character he required a bit more milk since he was malnourished, Suguru couldn’t stop describing how he would not let go of the bottle, his grip was not going to let up easily, he looked so genuinely happy describing his work and how much he enjoys this field.

You break out of your thoughts and make your way to the facility, it’s downright gorgeous garden greeting you before the glass doors, smelling so good greets you just as warmly, you open the door and offer your greetings to the staff, Suguru had told you on the phone that the little ones had been particularly needy and needed some attention, attention they couldn’t provide right at the moment so they called you: they always do.

They’re way more comfortable with you, always asking when you’re coming back and on occasion they’ll beg you to stay a little longer with them, cute little faces decorated in tears to trick you.

Right now you’re relaxing on the mat in the playroom whilst they all run around chasing after one another, Nobara: a little lion hybrid is trying her hardest to doze off on your lap, she can’t with all the loud children playing like it’s their last day ever. You slowly and softly rub her short locs to lull her, it’s working until Yuji: a tiger hybrid ever the energetic thing is crawling to come bother her.

With Megumi: a wolf hybrid, and basically his other half following right behind him quietly.

Nobara seems unphased by the tiger trying to bother her, simply shooing him away so she can get her beauty sleep, that sentence makes you giggle, you continue to watch the threes antics without saying a word, a show with no production is how they act together.

Yuji sees your hands rubbing Nobaras ears and he’s immediately making his way towards your soft fingers, basically forcing you to rub his orange striped ears, this doesn’t make Nobara happy and she tries to shove him away; whining for your attention again.

You know how they get if you aren’t showing them equal parts attention so now both of your hands are preoccupied, Megumi doesn’t seem to mind, simply sitting and watching on.

You hear his voice before you even see him, he’s definitely running through the halls disrupting the staff, he’s yelling your name so loud that you know its Satoru and how eager he is, you know how eager puppy hybrids can be.

When he pops his head into the playroom the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen, he quickly makes his way over to you ignoring the little growls the babies give him, he’s pushing them aside against your protest and laying in your lap. The grip he has around your waist allows for him to fully envelope himself in your breasts.

“Missed you’s much” he playfully whines.

“You seen me yesterday Toru.”

Satoru lets out a satisfied sigh in the warmth of your boobs, he’s become obsessed with you, and it’s bad he’s had to he reprimanded by Suguru and the other staff multiple times for his possessiveness it’s not his fault though! He can’t control how he feels about you not after that day.

It was when he was feeding Megumi, sometimes as a way to bond Suguru will have Satoru bottle feed them, though he absolutely dreads it, he has to put up with it, all the other adult hybrids are far too hard headed.

He was curious one day, about how the milk had tasted, he found out through Suguru that the formula had been changed to breast milk, it was a slip of the tongue but he himself had also noticed how they whined for more.

He unscrewed the top to the bottle, the little calm Megumi was already drifting off so he wasn’t a problem.

He took a sip, and quickly pulled away: fully expecting it to be the worst thing he’s ever tried: it’s baby food not food meant for him but that feeling on his tongue never came in fact it was actually quite good.

Another sip and another after that; he scarfed the remains of the bottle down with a flushed face, it tassted like- well he couldn’t describe it but he knew he fucking loved it. He found himself sneaking into where it was kept and taking some for himself, it was almost an everyday thing, he knew when Suguru was questioning and bothering him he had to stop but he couldn’t, until he met the source of where the milk was coming from.

He snuggles his face deeper, ignoring and zoning out the loud noises around him, he can smell the milk on your breasts, you recently pumped? Probably this morning to be exact as and all he can think about is how you sat there for hours getting rid of the awful feeling in your sore breasts.

You feel something hard against your leg, you know how Satoru feels about you but this is too much. You’ve already had to tell him in the past that he’s much too young for you and would be better off finding someone who can fit his needs, he insists that he only wants you and doesn’t care about the age difference.

You have yet to bring up these feelings to Suguru though, you can’t bring yourself to say because what if Satoru won’t trust you anymore, it was hard building trust with the man due to his past experiences.

He’s only getting more excited by the minute, his tail moving in slow languid motions.

The way he’s looking up at you is filled with nothing but love and lust, you know that look too well.

You aren’t sure why you’re in a bathroom stall with Toru whilst he feels you up, caressing your boobs, every attempt to tell him to stop dies on your tongue when he rubs a sore area, your breath hitching in your throat when he grinds his hard cock on you.

Such a needy puppy he is, whining under his breath words that you can’t quite decipher especially with how heated you’re getting, your mind getting foggier by the minute as you let Satoru get his fill of you.

He rips apart your blouse and carelessly throws it on the floor, along with your bra next. Your nipples are exposed to the cold air of the facility and Satoru is reveling in it. He paws at your heavy boobs with rough calloused hands that are uncoordinated, squeezing the fat in his hand until he sees what he wants.

The droplets of your milk finally coming to fruition, he licks one nipple and you think you can see him visibly shake with excitement, he filts that nipple in his mouth and suckles, after a good minute he ceases his constant unconscious movements and readily focuses on the sweet milk cascading down his throat.

A moan breaks free from your trembling lips, this feels nothing like the machine you have at home, this feels so fucking good it alone has your cunt throbbing in your panties, the swirling of his tongue and just how content he looks is driving you mad.

You slip into that space that you know is bad for you, your voice is for some reason egging Satoru on, calling him all sorts of names that entice him to suck harder. Your hands don’t listen to you either because you’re rubbing the front of his pants in soft motions.

His whimpers don’t go unnoticed, nor does his swishing tail, such a good boy you tell him, losing all sense of rational he drags you with him to sit on the toilet, you don’t expect the amount of strength he has for being so lanky but he manages it.

He goes right back to sucking on your fat breasts that still replenish his appetite.

You let Satoru strip you of your bottoms and your panties, you let him slip his cock inside of you when you know you shouldn’t, he isn’t big but he fucks constant, always hitting that good spot inside of you based off your reactions.

He looks disheveled and messy, his face red and his mouth dripping with drool and remnants of your milk.

You let him bend you any which way he sees fit in that stall, an overexcited hybrid means it’s going to take a while to exhaust them, though you feel tired after having an orgasm you’ve never experienced he isn’t done, he’s cum multiple times, filled your cunt with his leaky cum he still isn’t done yet.

When he’s got you in his lap leaning on him for support he’s nonstop talking about what you and him will do from here, he talks about how he wants a family of his own and how you’ll be such a perfect mommy to his little ones.

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Genre: Angst and hurt; somewhat fluffy (but only for a brief while). Warnings: Swearing. Unhealthy relationship/coping mechanisms (?). Word count: 2.2k+

Lucifer had been courting you for a couple of months already, the King of Hell finally deciding it was time to make the two of you official. The tension was so incredibly thick, that even the hotel’s patrons were growing sick of having to watch the two of you dance aimlessly around each other. Charlie included. 

The past couple of months were more than delightful – Lucifer treated you like a Queen, taking you out almost every other night, having nice candle-lit dinners, and dancing the night away. And if you weren’t really feeling the glamour, the both of you would stay cuddled up against one another whilst watching some cliche rom-com. It was like a dream. It was perfect…well, almost. 

The very source of your concerns was the golden band that remained in Lucifer’s ring-finger. 

You knew about the heart-break and torment that Lucifer underwent following his separation with Lilith. Understandably, having been together for many decades and centuries, the King had a difficult time trying to move on. Even in the earlier stages of your relationship, when he had been comfortable confiding in you, it was evident that he still deeply cared for Lilith, despite her absence. 

You tried to be understanding – you really, really did. But every time you held his hand, the cold metal feeling against your fingers set a painful reminder that maybe he still hasn’t moved on completely. 

It filled you to the brim with self-doubt. Perhaps he was just keeping you around just to fill in the void she had left. And if that were the case, were you even doing a good enough job in that? Hypothetically, if Lilith were to waltz in front of the hotel’s doors one day, was he going to throw you off to the side and run away with her? What if he’d grow bored of you all of a sudden?

Questions such as these would linger at the back of your head constantly, and as they did, you would cast a longing gaze in his direction. When he catches your eye, he would automatically send a smile your way, pearly-whites in full display. It would make you smile without fail, because how could it not? You loved that dashing smile of his. But everyday, you wondered if you could continue to maintain that smile in your life. 

One night in particular, during dinner at one of Hell’s finest establishments, Lucifer noticed that something was off. Your smile hasn’t been reaching your eyes, and you seemed like you were anywhere but here. Your eyes had a distant look to them and whenever he’d ask if something was wrong, you would become dismissive. It concerned him a lot. 

“Darling, are you alright?” Lucifer carefully asked once you both made it to the front porch of the hotel. “Was it the food? Was it not to your liking? Because the chicken was a bit off to be honest, it could’ve been a bit more seasoned–” 

“Luci,” you intervened and grabbed his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “The food was great, really. It’s just…” As your voice trailed off, you were quick to feel that damn ring around his finger. Because, of course you did, and it didn’t help your mood at all. You force out a huff and pull away, causing the demon’s frown to deepen, “I’m feeling a little under the weather tonight – probably just lacking a bit of sleep.” 

Lucifer scanned your face all over, his brows furrowed in worry. “Well…I guess you have been working harder for the hotel recently.” There had been some truth in that – after all, there had been an influx of sinners in the hotel since the cancellation of this year’s extermination. But he didn’t seem to stop there, not fully convinced by your reasoning, “...But are you sure that’s all, my dear?” 

You looked at him, surprised, as if suddenly caught red-handed. He was quick to pick up on that too, confirming his suspicions and making him all the more nervous.

 “What are you trying to say?” You ask. 

“Well, i-it’s just that I noticed that you’ve been acting a bit off recently,” he splutters. “And not only tonight. You’ve become a bit more…I don’t know, distant with me. And it worries me, y’know? I just…I really, really care about you. A lot.” He almost looks defeated as he rubs anxiously at his nape, “And if I’m being honest, it scares the absolute shit out of me that what I’m doing now isn't right."

Your brows crease in confusion, “...What are you talking about?” 

Lucifer closed his eyes, dragging a palm against his face as an exaggerated groan leaves his lips. “Look, I’m not exactly experienced with all…all this – the one woman I’ve ever been in a committed relationship with left me. Just like that!” He lets out a humourless snort. “A-And I don’t know what I did to make her leave and I for sure don’t want to make that same mistake again. I…I want to be assured that I’m making you happy.” 

Lucifer looks up at you, eyes filled with warmth, as he places a gentle hand against your cheek. He breaks the distance between you to press his forehead against yours. You automatically lean against him out of habit. “I don’t want to lose you. And if I’m doing something wrong, tell me. Please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads, his voice almost falling into a whisper. The unexpected confession left you speechless, your chest feeling all the more tight. It was making you feel worse than you already did. 

You let out a shaky sigh, trying to keep the pending tears at bay. “Luci, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…I-I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Trust me when I say that you’ve been nothing more than a gentleman, and every moment we’ve spent together has been magical. I appreciate you so, so much, and I could never, ever ask for anything more.” 

You shut your eyes tight, shame filling your very core. “I’m just being a little silly–”

“No, no. Don’t say that, darling. Please tell me what’s going on. It’s okay,” Lucifer encourages softly, his thumb rubbing reassuringly against your cheek. 

You grab his wrist and gently pull your face away from him. With the hand on his arm, you slide it down to grab at his own, bringing it up into view and in-between the both of you. Almost instantaneously, both your eyes lie on the golden band on his finger – to Lucifer, it suddenly clicks. But he couldn’t help but feel an internal conflict brew within him. 

“I-I know how much that ring and Lilith means to you. I really do and I feel awful having to feel this way, but I just…I can’t help it,” you mutter, finally allowing the first couple of tears to fall, “I-I often find myself counting the days and hours when you’ll suddenly realise that I will never be good enough for you. It feels like I’m constantly having to compete with her–heck, what am I even saying? I know I’ll never be able to compete – because, I mean, come on. I'm a nobody!” You chuckle tearfully whilst gesturing to yourself with a free hand.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever understand how you’d ever settle for someone like me. I’m not nearly as important, nor am I the best-looking demon out there. I’m just me.”

“But Lucifer, whenever I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I smile more. Laugh more. I even enjoy the little things more. And I don’t want that to go away. And I’m just hoping– Satan, I’m fucking hoping that it’s the same for you. And if it is, then how long is that going to last with me?” 

Completely shocked, Lucifer watched in silence as his love sobbed their heart out in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to go and wrap you in his warm embrace, and whisper reassurances and hush down your cries. Because, you were right – you did make him happy. So unbelievably happy. You had been the light that casted away the shadows in his darkest times. And yet, why? Why did he remain where he stood, unmoving as tears pathetically poured from his eyes? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

There was a brief, stagnant moment of contemplation where the both of you just stood there. It was the realisation that Lucifer didn’t make any effort to formulate some form of response, that disappointed you even further. It only made the doubtful voice in your head louder. 

It was you who ultimately decided to make the first move, wiping tiredly at your reddened face as you glanced at the hotel’s door. “I’ll be heading off first. I’ll be in the guest room tonight – it’s been a long day,” you raspily say, hiccuping as you pushed through the doors and disappeared into the hotel, leaving Lucifer alone outside. 

As you entered the hotel, you immediately noticed Husk’s presence by the bar, who had been polishing some glasses by the counter. In front of him was Angel, who was making some sweet, small talk with him. They were both alerted by your entrance as the doors flew open, and as Angel was about to greet you in his usual playful fashion, his voice fell flat when he saw the depressed state you were in. 

“Woah, there. What the hell happened to you? You look like shit,” Angel asked, standing to meet you half-way, “I thought you and Short-King were out on a date. Did something happen?” 

“We were but we had a fight or something,” you tiredly shrugged as you walked past the arachnid and plopped yourself down on one of the bar stools. You swirled yourself on the seat to face Husk. “Give me the strongest shit you have. And make it double,” you waved absently at the feline-demon, who raised an incredulous brow at your bluntness. “Damn, it must be that serious considering you don’t even drink,” he grumbles as he turns to start brewing a glass of something, “...do you wanna talk about it?"

You contemplated his offer for a second and realised that you did. For the next five or so minutes, you ended up recounting everything that happened earlier tonight, all the while shedding even more tears. Angel was kind enough to supply you with a mountain of tissues to cry into.

“Well, it sounds to me that your man’s got a whole lot of thinking to do,” Husk clicks his tongue. “But what you’re feeling is completely valid.” “Yeah, who the fuck wears their ol’ wedding ring while dating someone else? What an asshole,” Angel hisses. 

“S-So you guys think there’s a possibility that he might consider ending things with me?” You question dejectedly. Husk and Angel share a look of uncertainty, suddenly feeling the need to be careful of their words. Because they genuinely weren’t sure.

“I–Look, that’s not something we should be focusing on at the moment– I mean, of course, let’s hope that that’s not where this is going. I just think he needs some space to think things through properly,” Husk says. 

“And I know I was talking a whole lot of shit before but let’s take the benefit of the doubt and look at things from his point of view. He was in that boat for more than a couple thousand years. And shit, that’s a lot of fucking years.” Angel points out. “It might take him a while longer to adjust to that, y’know?” Angel places a hand on your shoulder, grinning at you reassuringly, “But there’s one thing for sure that myself and everyone else knows: the guy loves yah, toots. Anyone with eyes can see it, and you guys are really fucking disgusting about it too–ow!” 

Angel suddenly lunges forward against the counter as one of Husk’s wings swipes down to slap the back of his head. “‘The fuck was that for?! It’s true, ain’t it?!” Husk rolled his eyes at his dramatics, before turning back to you. “He’s right, though. Just…just give him a bit more time. I’m sure in the end, the both of you will be fine.” 

Meanwhile, Lucifer decided to head back to his own castle, wanting to be alone to sort through his cluttered thoughts. He was beyond upset with himself for making you cry like that, because it was the last thing he wanted. But he was more upset at the fact that he didn’t know how to navigate through his emotions, despising that he found himself second guessing his feelings. 

As you explicitly implied, was he really still unconsciously longing for Lilith? Was that why he kept wearing his ring? Why was he still wearing it? Was it just for his own comfort? But why would he need it anyways? You were there, weren’t you? All he had said to you tonight, he was contradicting himself, wasn’t he? Perhaps he’s scared. Maybe he isn’t ready yet. But, why would he be with you if he didn’t think so? What exactly were you to him? And what exactly was Lilith to him now?

Lucifer was a complete mess, and that night he couldn’t find a single blink of sleep as these thoughts plagued him. And neither could you, as you scrutinised every aspect of your relationship, thinking of what this could mean for the both of you, moving forward.

Yeah…perhaps you both needed some time. 

Chapter II [x]

[shaiyasstuff]

my little demon | rafayel

synopsis : You accidentally summon a demon. He's annoying, endearing, and suddenly leaving. You hate it, hate him. Except, maybe you don't. And maybe that's the worst part. content : demon!rafayel, fluff, poor references to hell, comedy

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Y/N.”

“For fuck’s sake, Rafayel, do you not understand what time out means?” you snapped, slamming your pen down like it had personally wronged you. You turned to him, already bracing for the face.

And there it was.

Big eyes. Slight pout. That tragic, kicked-puppy expression that made him look like a freshly scolded Disney sidekick.

“You look like a goldfish,” you deadpanned.

“Hey!” he gasped, hand flying to his chest like you’d just impaled him. “A cute goldfish though?” He double finger-gunned at you, winking.

You blinked. Twice. “You’re so lucky you’re already from hell.”

Rafayel just beamed like you’d complimented him.

“‘Yel,” you groaned, rubbing your temples, “I have three thousand words due by tomorrow, and my prof already hates me because I made a joke about Plato being a drama queen. If I don’t finish this, he’s going to flay me.”

“I still don’t get why you humans do this to yourselves,” Rafayel muttered, kicking his legs from where he was perched upside-down on your desk chair like an overgrown toddler. “You pay to be stressed out. Should’ve just sold your soul like a normal person.”

You gave him a look.

“Oh wait.” He grinned, sharp teeth peeking out. “Too late.”

You considered throwing your textbook at him. Not that it would do anything. He’d just catch it mid-air with a smug smirk and then use it as a coaster for his bubble tea.

Because, yes, your demon—your demon, what the actual hell—had a crippling addiction to boba. Specifically the strawberry milk tea kind. With rainbow pearls. That he insisted on ordering with your credit card.

How did it come to this?

Well. You were trying to write your thesis.

A comparative analysis of ancient summoning rituals and modern occult trends.

Cool, edgy, mildly creepy.

Your professor was thrilled.

You, on the other hand, were downing energy drinks and googling ‘curses that don’t backfire’ at 3AM.

Then you found The Website.

Black background. Red font.

Very ‘do-not-enter-this-site-if-you-value-your-soul’ vibes.

So like anyone with a brain, you clicked it.

You followed the instructions—chalk circle, candles, some vaguely Latin-sounding chants—and when nothing happened, you shrugged and went to bed, convinced you’d wasted twenty bucks on witchy candles and your last shred of dignity.

Then you woke up to glowing eyes staring down at you from your ceiling like some paranormal ceiling cat.

You screamed. Loudly.

Your RA came running, ready to fight a serial killer, only to find you clutching a pillow and pointing at an empty spot on your ceiling like a madwoman.

He backed out of your room slowly, muttering something about, “freshman psychosis” and, “never rooming with a lit major.”

And now?

Now you had Rafayel.

A demon with a temper shorter than your GPA, a weird fixation with glitter, and a total disregard for personal space, deadlines, or the human concept of privacy.

He refused to leave.

Something about your summoning being ‘binding’ and your ‘aura’ being ‘weirdly cozy.’ Whatever the hell that meant.

You sighed and turned back to your laptop, muttering, “Why couldn’t I have summoned, like, a chill ghost? Or a vampire with a tragic past?”

From behind you, Rafayel hummed, “You say tragic past, but I am the reason a small village disappeared off the map in 1437.”

You didn’t even flinch. “Good for you.”

“And yet, here I am. Reduced to being your emotional support demon.”

“Reduced? No one asked you to rearrange my spice rack alphabetically and by Scoville level.”

“Blasphemy tastes better with cayenne.”

You didn’t look up. You didn’t respond.

You simply typed.

And hoped to hell—or heaven, or the void between—that this paper would write itself before you lost your last brain cell.

You felt the faint, ominous creak of your desk chair’s twin moving behind you—the low growl of overworked wheels scratching across old floorboards.

Which meant that Rafayel was on the move.

And sure enough, a second later, he was right beside you, chin practically glued to your shoulder as he peered at your screen like a nosy toddler who had just discovered the concept of YouTube.

“Oh my god,” he whispered in genuine horror. “What is that supposed to be?”

You blinked. “It’s a nineteenth-century etching of a demon.”

“That,” he pointed dramatically, “looks like if a goblin and a melted candle had an unfortunate child.”

“…Well, it is hell,” you muttered under your breath, barely suppressing the eye twitch as he recoiled at the grotesque, horned figure on your laptop like it personally offended his bloodline.

“It’s just—ugh! You humans get it so wrong.” Rafayel flopped back into his chair with a dramatic huff, lacing his fingers behind his head like this was a casual TED Talk and not your descent into academic burnout.

“Lucifer’s not some scary, flaming rage monster. He’s actually pretty chill. Bit moody. Likes jazz. Wears a lot of silk.”

You blinked slowly, fingers hovering over your keyboard. “Wonderful. Shall I cite you as a primary source, then?”

“I mean, I did know him.”

“Of course you did.”

He grinned, cocky and unbothered, like he hadn’t been singlehandedly driving you to the edge of sanity all month.

You slammed your palms onto your desk with the force of a caffeinated raccoon reaching enlightenment.

“Rafayel.”

“Yes?” he said sweetly, as if he hadn’t just derailed your concentration for the fifth time in under ten minutes.

“I am a senior,” you began, voice dangerously calm, “in the final semester of a four-year degree that I am barely surviving. I have not slept in two days. I have eaten nothing but cereal dust and vending machine pretzels. My thesis is currently being held together by three weak metaphors, one questionable source, and the power of denial.”

You took a breath, gaze narrowing.

“So unless you want me to start writing my next section on how modern demons are somehow worse than capitalism—Shut. The fuck. Up.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he gave you a slow clap.

“I love it when you get feisty,” he said, grinning.

You turned back to your screen.

He was lucky he was immortal.

—•

You threw your hands in the air like a malfunctioning robot powering down for the last time and muttered a tired, deadpan, “Yay.”

The kind of yay that carried the weight of sleep deprivation, caffeine addiction, and a vague desire to start life over as a forest hermit.

When you turned, Rafayel was mid-hover above your bed—legs crossed in an upside-down floating genie pose like some unholy yoga instructor. His head hung just low enough to make direct, smug eye contact with you.

“I’m done.” you declared, the kind of joy only reserved for finishing a thesis or surviving a group project with your sanity intact.

“Finally,” he drawled, tossing his ninety-ninth boba cup into the bottomless trashcan of the void like a three-point shot. The lid landed with a soft clink that echoed like judgment.

You stared at him. “Is that my hoodie you’re wearing?”

He shrugged—midair, still upside down. “It smells like you. Very… stressed and academically overachieving.”

You flopped face-first onto your bed with a groan. “Why are you like this?”

“I’m your emotional support demon,” he chirped. “I’m doing my job.”

“Do your job quieter.”

“That’s not in the contract.”

“There was no contract—”

“You summoned me with ancient Latin and expired lavender candles. I’d call that consent.”

You groaned into your pillow. He was unbearable. Infuriating. Downright catastrophic.

But also… a little fun.

Stupid adorable demon.

“How do I even get rid of you anyway?” you mumbled into the depths of your pillow, the words muffled but laced with the kind of dramatic despair that came after surviving both a thesis and Rafayel.

Silence.

Unusual silence.

Suspicious, even.

You lifted your head just enough to peek over your arm. “…Rafayel?”

No answer.

You sat up fully now, squinting toward your desk—where the demon in question was oddly still, back turned, his usual commentary absent.

That was never a good sign.

You got up, padding quietly across the room like one of those horror movie girls who absolutely should not go toward the ominous figure, but does anyway because narrative choices.

There he was, standing in front of your laptop, staring at the still-open tab with the medieval etching of hell. The fire, the grotesque figures, the tormented souls—all frozen in digital interpretation.

You stopped a few feet behind him. “…You okay?”

His posture didn’t shift. He didn’t crack a joke or throw a boba cup into the void.

Just stared.

And when he finally did speak, it was quieter than you expected.

“They always get it wrong,” he said. “They make it all fire and fury. Screaming. Violence.”

You frowned, uncertain.

He turned slightly, just enough for you to see the flicker in his expression. Not anger. Not smugness.

Something else.

“They forget it’s mostly just… quiet down there.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t know what to.

So you just stood there, behind the demon you summoned on accident, watching as he looked at a world that feared him—and didn’t understand him at all.

He finally turned to look at you, and there was that flicker of a smile again—gentler this time, almost… nostalgic?

“Hell isn’t that bad, you know?” he said, like he was trying to convince you, or maybe just himself. “I had friends down there.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossing. “You? Have friends? Shocking.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Rude. But fair.”

Still, the sarcasm didn’t fully return. His shoulders relaxed a little, and his gaze dropped for a moment like he was remembering something that didn’t belong in this room, in this world.

“Yeah,” he said. “We may not have souls, but we’re not cold-blooded beings who only love torture.”

A pause.

His lips twitched. “Okay. Maybe some of us are. Gormax really enjoyed the whole spine-peeling thing.”

You blinked. “That’s not a real name.”

“Swear on the Void.”

“…You people need hobbies.”

He grinned again, but this time you noticed the faint sadness beneath it. Not enough to take over, but just enough to linger.

You glanced at your laptop, still glowing with the static, flaming misery of a human’s idea of damnation, and then back at him.

“You miss it?”

Rafayel shrugged. “Sometimes. It’s home. In a weird, messed-up, infernal kind of way.”

You nodded slowly.

And maybe—just maybe—you started to understand.

“I mean, I understand. I miss home too. But,” you sighed, dropping back into your chair with a quiet thud. Rafayel hovered beside you again, floating like some dramatic ghost lamp as he waited—surprisingly quiet, for once.

“My parents passed away two years ago,” you said, voice soft, almost careful, like the words had grown sharp with time. “So I’ve been avoiding going home. It just… doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

You didn’t look at him as you spoke. Just clicked through the open tabs, saving your thesis with methodical clicks. Save as draft. Save to cloud. Back up to your USB, just in case the universe decided to smite your hard drive out of spite.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was heavy. Like a blanket pulled over your shoulders that you didn’t ask for but kind of needed.

Rafayel didn’t say anything right away.

He didn’t make a joke.

Didn’t deflect.

He just hovered beside you, gaze steady, presence uncharacteristically… grounded.

And for once, you didn’t feel like talking was wasted.

You shrugged off the creeping melancholy with a light chuckle, brushing it off like lint from an old sweater. No need to get all soft and sentimental—this was supposed to be your break from the feels, not a therapy session featuring one floating demon roommate.

Turning to Rafayel, you expected another sarcastic quip, or maybe a comment about your overuse of the word “therefore” in your thesis. But instead, he was just… staring at you.

Not in his usual annoying way.

Not the 'I’m about to tease you for eating dry cereal out of a mug again' way.

Just quietly watching you.

“Tell me more,” he said.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He leaned in a little, expression unreadable. “Tell me more about yourself.”

You froze.

Not because you didn’t want to—but because no one ever asked that. Not like that. Not seriously.

Not with that kind of openness in their voice, like he actually wanted to know.

The demon you accidentally summoned from a sketchy website at 3AM, who drinks boba like it’s holy nectar and thinks your hoodie smells like existential dread, was asking you—you—to talk about yourself.

You were stunned.

Then you did the only thing that made sense.

“…Okay,” you said quietly. “But only if you go first.”

He tilted his head, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile—something more honest. “Deal.”

You lay sprawled on your bed, one leg dangling off the side, your pillow tucked under your chin like a sad little emotional support loaf.

Across from you, Rafayel spun slow, lazy circles in the air like some haunted carousel ride. At one point he did a full backflip and declared it, “aesthetically necessary.”

And somehow, between the jokes and the occasional sarcastic remark, the conversation had slipped into something real.

You told him about your past. Your parents. The quiet house you grew up in. How you always wanted a sibling—not just to share toys with, but to not feel alone when the lights turned off and grief crept in.

You told him about the accident, how it felt like the world just stopped, and you were the only one still moving.

And he listened. Actually listened.

In return, he talked about the Void—though you were beginning to think “hell” was more of a branding issue than a literal place.

He described it like a strange bureaucracy: souls sorted, some punished, others recycled, a few left in the waiting room forever because someone misplaced their paperwork.

“Torture chambers are real, yeah,” he said casually, floating upside down with his hair hanging like a purplish waterfall. “But they’re for the actual evil ones. Not the spicy-sin level ones. Just murdery, unforgivable bastards.”

He paused, then smirked. “It’s always funny when a priest walks in. So shocked. Like, sir, you were literally laundering money and judging people for existing.”

You gave a snort-laugh, despite yourself.

Then you sat up, narrowing your eyes. “Okay, but—what is your role in all this? Why are you so free to be here, doing aerial tricks in my room and spending thousands on my credit card like it’s demon Black Friday?”

Rafayel floated to a stop, blinking.

Then he stretched out like a cat mid-yawn. “Technically, I’m a scout.”

“A scout?”

“Yeah. Recruits, human surveillance, some possession clearance checks, the occasional ‘make a deal for your soul’ gig—basic intern stuff.”

You gawked. “You’re telling me you’re a hell intern?”

He smirked. “Unpaid, of course. And overqualified.”

You dropped your head into your hands. “Of course you are.”

He floated a little closer, a glint in his eye. “But I was top of my class in emotional disruption and distraction techniques, thank you very much.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

He smirked, all teeth and knowing glint. “You’ll miss me.”

You blinked.

Then immediately scowled. “Fuck no.”

But the twinge in your chest—the subtle little ache—said otherwise.

Betrayal. By your own heart.

Rude.

Rafayel, of course, noticed. He always did. The bastard was like an emotion-sniffing dog, except instead of alerting people, he just smirked more.

“When I get promoted,” he said, reclining into his imaginary armchair like some otherworldly sitcom character, “I’ll finally be able to go back.”

Back to the Void. To hell.

To wherever demons like him belonged when they weren’t terrorizing emotionally constipated college students and draining their boba budgets.

You went quiet, lips pressed together.

Then, softly—almost like you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer—you asked,

“What if I want to see you again?”

He turned his head, cocking a brow. “I thought you wanted me to begone?”

“Well, yeah,” you mumbled, rubbing at your neck like you could hide your embarrassment behind muscle tension. “That was before I thought you were… fun.”

Rafayel blinked. Then blinked again, stunned just long enough for you to feel like maybe—maybe—you’d glitched the demon matrix.

“Fun?” he echoed, the grin creeping back slowly. “You think I’m fun?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.”

You groaned and rolled back onto your bed, covering your face with your hands.

From above, you heard the soft flick of a boba straw unwrapping. And then—

“You’re fun too, you know,” he said.

You peeked between your fingers.

He was still floating. Still smug. But maybe—just maybe—a little softer.

masterlist

[wileys-russo]

filling the void (10) II a.putellas

la reinas birthday means another installation into the fresa universe! ft @girlgenius1111 solstråle engen filling the void (10) II a.putellas

“ale? por favour por favor i need help, hermana i need you!”

you’d managed through the searing pan to at least pull yourself up enough to sit leaning against the bath when alexia burst in, almost causing you to topple over again in shock as your sister practically kicked the door open and came to a screaming halt.

“qué ha pasado? estás herido? dónde estás herido? cómo de grave es? estás-” the older girl knelt down and fired question after question at you, eyes rapidly scanning your body for any sign of injury, barely giving you a chance to answer one question before asking another.

“alexia, cállate!” you snapped suddenly, frustrated that she wouldn’t let you get a word in as your sister did just that, falling quiet as you exhaled shakily. taking a moment to collect yourself you puffed air out your nose with a grunt as another wave of pain shot through your ankle and you felt like throwing up.

“hermana, what happened?” alexia asked firmly though not unkindly, eyes searching your own for any telltale sign of what had lead to the late night phone call, alexia’s stomach dropping the very moment you’d spoken and she’d heard the clear panic in your voice.

“i slipped over on the wet towel, think i broke it.” you whispered quietly with a nod down at your ankle, alexias gaze following your own and widening at the purple bruising already setting in and the weird angle your foot was at, the dimly lit bathroom meaning she’d not noticed sooner and she was cursing herself for it.

you meanwhile readied yourself for a lecture, told off for your idiotic choices, braced for a smack to the back of your head even and a reminder that this was your fault, because you were too stubborn for your own good, you didn’t use your crutches and of course thought you knew best.

but it never came.

instead all your sister did was give a curt nod that she’d heard you, your mami arriving in the doorway followed closely by olga who’d just woken her up, both women also looking down at your ankle in shock. 

“es tan malo?” you grimaced at their expressions, alexia shooting them both a firm look of warning as they quickly dismissed your worries before gently pushing your head back as you craned your neck to look down at your ankle, your sister deeming it would be more helpful for everyone if you didn’t, olga moving quickly now to bend down beside you.

“a la cuenta de tres.” the girl warned as both her and alexia grabbed your arms and you exhaled shakily, both girls counting to three together before lifting you upward off the floor. curses dropped from your tongue like raindrops at the sheer immense wave of pain which overcame you as they did, your sister quick to just pick you up to save any further complications.

all of a sudden you felt four years old again as your sister fireman carried you out to the car which was still running, very carefully helping you into the back and shooing eli into the front as olga got into the drivers seat and alexia sat herself right next to you.

the car peeled out of the driveway and you tried to deep breathe through the pain, dismissing your mami’s repeated apologies she’d fallen asleep and hadn’t heard you come home, assuring you knew you should have just let elena help you like she offered, but it was too late for that now.

“you came.” you met alexia’s gaze as your sisters eyebrows furrowed together and her hand squeezed the knee of your good leg reassuringly, olga speeding through a red light with a grimace, though it had already been mutually decided this was faster than awaiting an ambulance.

“por supuesto fresita, you called.”

~

“qué quiere decir? it is broke! snapped!” your eldest sister glared down the poor receptionist who sighed, not as offput by your sisters protective and abrasive attitude as most would be intimated by, simply again explaining that they would be able to give you some pain relief but due to how busy the emergency room was you’d need to wait awhile to be seen by anyone.

“amor? venga, come sit with your hermana. your mama can talk to them, fresa te necesita.” olga murmured gently, grabbing your sister by her bicep and dragging her away, leaving eli to fill in the necessary paperwork while a nurse was sat explaining everything to you.

“oye! you are vaping?” alexia hissed, snatching the green pen from your hand as you looked up with a scowl and the nurse hid a laugh. “no no, this is for the pain relief. she will feel a little uneasy and lightheaded, but it is quick acting.” the nurse held her hand out as alexia blushed and placed the pen back in her hand which was then given back to you.

the nurse re-explaining everything to alexia and olga at their request you’d tuned out, your head starting to feel a little foggy the more deeply you inhaled from the small green whistle clenched in your fist, zoning out entirely until a tap on your leg had you looking up.

you made a thumbs up at the questio you hadn’t heard as olga snickered quietly and the nurse smiled before she left, your sister sitting down on your other side. “ale!” you huffed as she snatched the pen from you, swatting your hand away as she squinted to read the writing on the side, eventually handing it back as you took a hit.

“how are you feeling chica? how is the pain?” olga asked as you paused and blinked slowly, everything feeling a lot more numb now and suddenly it was as if you’d never even hurt yourself in the first place. “why are we here?” you questioned bluntly, taking another deep inhale from the green whistle.

“que? your ankle?” alexia frowned as you looked between both of their concerned gazes, letting out a loud and sudden laugh as alexia smacked a hand over your mouth and a few people glanced over curiously at the outburst.

“we need one of these at home! mami!” you yelled across the room the moment alexia let go, your sister wincing and sending an apologetic look to the elderly couple across from you who shuffled a few more seats away with a side eye.

“ale.” your sister paused her impending lecture, looking over your head at her girlfriend who’d tapped her, reading the article she’d pulled up on her phone about the side effects of the little green pen, eyes widening as she did.

it seemed it would make you act as if you were-

“dios mio did we take shots on the way here?” you giggled suddenly feeling like you were drunk, eyes droopy with a lazy smile painted on your face, and much much much more relaxed than just a few minutes ago when you’d barely been able to sit still from the pain shooting up your leg.

“como un suero de la verdad.” olga grinned, like a truth serum, and alexia despite the small voice in her head which prodded at her to just leave you be, was curious enough to test the theory.

“ay hermana.” she knocked her knee gently into your good one, the other strapped up with some ice though you couldn’t even feel your legs let alone your ankle right now. “what happened to the blue phantoms?” your sister questioned, a pair of her spare boots having magically disappeared the last time you’d stayed over but you’d profusely denied having anything to do with it.

“i sold them to someone at work.” you confessed right away with laugh, snort and a shake of your head, inhaling deeply from the pen. “and your red and blue fluffy nike jacket?” you looked at your sister, head lolling from side to side a little. “i took it.” you admitted with a snicker.

“and your vintage barcelona hoodie? the custom one? i took that too!” you giggled to yourself, alexias eyes widening at the myriad of confessions which came rolling out of you, admitting to many a theft from her closet, albas closet, even some items which alexia had entirely forgotten about, and some that she’d almost beat your other sister for assuming she was the one lying about taking them.

“-and mami? your blue vase with the flowers? ale made me say i broke it cause i was cute and i’d get away with it. but she broke it!” you poked your finger into your sisters cheek with a lazy grin as eli sent her eldest a very unimpressed look from the seat across from your own.

“-and then alba used to sneak in through my window all the time from parties! she’d pay me not to snitch.” you shrugged, inhaling deeply again from the pen and exhaling with a content smile. 

“then one time alexia hit alba so hard she lost a tooth then she made her-” your sister shot up, not quite willing to let that secret fully see the light of day just yet, snatching the green pen from your hand and smacking one of her own over your mouth, eli’s eyes burning into her as she smiled awkwardly.

“i will go check with a nurse about the wait time.” your sister scurried off with the green pen still in hand, your mami charging after her leaving you and olga be as you sighed heavily, truly feeling on cloud nine and not at all understanding why you couldn’t just go home no matter how many times it was explained to you how you’d ended up here.

“olgui.” you spoke up suddenly, your sisters girlfriend raising her eyebrows in amusement beside you. “i know you worry that i don’t like you as much as i liked jenni-” you started with an ever so slight slur, olga’s eyebrows now furrowing, a little unsure of where this was going.

“-but you don’t need to! i needed jenni when i was little, i don’t anymore. i need alexia to be loved and looked after and you do that and more, you bring out the best in her, more than anyone else ever has.” you continued firmly, slapping a hand onto her shoulder and making her jolt a little.

“-and i love you, like a sister. eres de la familia!” you promised with a very determined nod and a dopey smile, head still lolling a little side to side as the older girls features softened, pulling you into a side hug.

“gracias pequeña.” she kissed your head as your sister and mami now returned, grumpy look on alexia’s face as she threw herself down in her chair with crossed arms, eli lowering herself much more gracefully back into hers and if you’d not been so high you might have clocked the tension.

but you didn’t, in the slightest.

“ale!” you quickly turned to face your sister, hands coming to grab her face and squish it together as she gave you a strange look. “i love you hermana. i love you! i love you! i love-.” you pinched her cheeks tightly and shook her head side to side with every declaration, alexia eventually pulling your hands away with a wince and a small smile.

“yo también te quiero diablillo.” your sister chuckled, kissing your cheek as your head fell to her shoulder and you patted her leg, everyone exhaling a little as it seemed you’d finally settled.

but they were wrong, alexia tensing up in surprise as you went flying back up into your seat, dopey grin and a glazed over expression on your face looking around the waiting room as if you were trying to find someone, snatching the pen from your sister and managing a half inhale before she took it back muttering about how your pain was more than managed.

“oye why are we here again? we should be at the club!”

~~~~~

you glanced up from your breakfast at the sound of a knock on the door, barely even able to blink before your mami warned she would get it and you weren’t to move as you huffed and leaned back in your seat, pushing the now cold plate of eggs away from you.

it had only been a few days of wearing the dreaded ‘moon boot’ encasing your foot like a cage but you were past ready to tug it off and launch it into outer space, your indeed broken ankle be damned. 

the boot was ugly, clunky, heavy, made your entire foot itchy and hot, but you couldn’t do anything about any of that, only simply sit and suffer while it helped you ‘heal’.

you still had to use your crutches most of the time because you weren’t supposed to bare any unnecessary weight onto your ankle in the boot, but that was causing irritating little bruises to form under your arms, which the doctor warned may happen while you still got comfortable relying on them.

though you didn’t want to become comfortable using them, you didn’t want to get used to this stupid ugly boot, you wanted to snap your fingers and have your bones magically heal. 

or for someone to invent a time machine so you could go back, rewind and not have slipped over that day to avoid this whole situation in the first place. you knew the boot had to be on for a minimum of five, maybe even six weeks, and here you were losing your mind after a mere four days. 

and you were, losing your mind.

the one thing you did have working in your favour was that it was a clean fracture, meaning you didn’t need surgery or any sort of invasive medical treatment. but you did need to go to a physio for rehab to build the ankle strength back up, as well as to see your doctor for x-rays every fortnight to keep on top that everything was healing as it should.

alexia had of course insisted you use her physio therapist, the same whom she’d trusted for years, and as much as you despised the treatment plan you knew if he could deal with alexia after her acl? the man must have the patience of a saint and clearly know what he was doing, so you’d begrudgingly agreed, not that you’d really had a choice.

though as much as the boot and the crutches was driving you crazy that was nothing compared to the absolutely insufferable smothering from your family, which was the final piece in the puzzle of your current head loss and slow but steady descent into insanity. 

you knew deep down it came from a place of care, and that being the baby of the family did have its perks, some of which you’d taken full advantage of over the years and still did to this day.

but one of these said perks was not being watched like an organism under a microscope, every move studied, wants and needs assumed and in turn met for you in an often forceful way, in which any and all protests from you were ignored or shut down.

alexia of course was the most insufferable of the bunch, hovering and fussing and bossing you around like your own personal nurse from hell. but as much as you’d reminded her time and time again she actually wasn’t the putellas studying a degree in medicine, she was far too pigheaded and tenacious to listen or let that stop her.

it had even gone as far as her deploying olga to stay at eli’s and ‘hang out with you’ when everyone else had to work since she could do her own job from the couch you’d been basically glued to all week.

but both you and your sisters girlfriend knew that really just meant to watch and hover and fuss over you when the others weren’t around to do that, ensuring that you weren’t left without a pair of eyes over you every second of the day despite once again your protests you were fine by yourself.

though at least olga allowed you a little more independence than her girlfriend did, asking what you needed rather than assuming, helping instead of doing things for you, and she always brought you some sort of food as a peace offering if it be sweet or savoury.

but after you’d almost stabbed your eldest sister in the hand with a fork at dinner last night after she tried to cut your food up for you as if you’d broken your hand, your mami had taken you aside to cool off.

she’d gently advised that your sisters, alexia in particular, still had their own wounds to heal with having made you feel so neglected the last year or so, reminding you that part of this healing process of their wounds was to overcompensate.

eli finishing that with as much as alexia could be insufferable and bossy, every little word and action from alexia came from a place of love for you, and that to some degree you had to just let your sisters do as they needed to feel like they were making up for lost time.

though a few moments after that chat when you’d returned to the table you threatened to stab yourself in the eye with a fork if alexia didn’t leave you alone and let you eat in peace, your mami realised that though she had the hindsight to see and accept alexia’s overbearing nature came without malice, you weren’t quite just there yet.

the worst part of it though wasn’t the fussing, or the smothering, it wasn’t the lack of quiet time and independence, or even the overstimulation of the boot and the bruises from the crutches, it was the boredom.

you’d never been the kind of child growing up who sat still without a cause. sure you had your times when you’d be quiet through sheer exhaustion, but almost all of the time you had to be moving around doing something and keeping busy, albeit chattering away to anyone who had an ear to lend to listen.

this in turn meant you’d had more energy to burn than your family knew what to do with, which is how you then wound up going to training so often with alexia after school, even if after the tooth incident you refused to so much as touch a football for fear of injury, no matter how many times your sister tried to change that. 

the running around the field after alexias teammates for hours was enough to tire you out for the evening, which in turn allowed a routine to be implemented that didn’t involve you running circles around your family and refusing to settle down or do anything you were asked.

but now nearly eighteen you’d calmed down quite a bit, and knew how to appreciate the little pockets of peace that came with laying on a beach tanning or the solitude locked away in your room studying.

your job was your favourite way to pass your time these days. 

you had a drive to achieve and to want and to work for what you desired instilled in you from a very young age and you were thrilled to have found something you were not only good at, but that you sincerely enjoyed like working at the clinic, and your studies that went hand in hand.

you were often teased by your friends and coworkers that you were like a sponge, just always going around soaking up every and any little tidbits of advice or knowledge you could wring from anyone who had the time around the clinic.

so when not only the doctor but your boss had agreed with your families suggestion you take some time off while you healed, it was like an uppercut punch to the stomach. 

your contests in the doctors office that you could sit at the front desk in reception and not put any weight on your foot all day were shut down with three fierce glares and a warning pinch to the back of your arm for the choice words muttered under your breath afterward.

so now without work to look forward to everyday, the rug of your weekly routine pulled out from beneath you in tatters, you were distraught at the thought of so much free time unoccupied to say the least.

you still had your studies you could do from home, though you felt like a nuisance texting your coworkers to ask for advice knowing they were busy. 

it was different when you were at the clinic and could ask things in real time and often be shown your answer, or when you were allocated your time to work on your assessments and one of them would sometimes opt to come sit with you in the back office to help on a lunch break.

then of course it was also near impossible to concentrate on anything when at any given you time you could have up to eight eyes all staring at you as if waiting for any sort of sign you needed assistance, forced to sit at the dining room table or the couch because in your room you were apparently far too unsupervised.

between the three women constantly fussing and hovering and offering help you knew they couldn’t give you alba had been the least insufferable. your older sister actually taking your side and advocating you be left alone to your notes and your textbooks, very firmly reminding alexia that not only would she be annoying you but she would be essentially useless if you did have any questions or require help.

none the less back to present day you perked up when after your mami answered the door you heard a familiar voice, eli inviting them in as the sound of footsteps thundering toward you had the first sincere smile in days tugging at your lips.

“fresa!” the girl cheered, climbing up onto the sofa and launching at you in a hug, elena quick to follow and sternly reminding her daughter needed to be very very careful of your ankle. the four year old nodded with a concerned frown as she looked down at the boot propped up on the coffee table, and you could tell by the little twitch in her hands she was trying very hard not to reach out and poke at it.

“but when my foot is all better your mami and i will have to take you to the aquarium chica, just like we promised.” you grinned as sofia perked up with an enthusiastic nod, eli watching on with a soft smile as she conversed with elena. 

“are you going to daycare today nena?” you asked, noting elena in her scrubs ready for work and knowing that she’d never take sofia with her. “sí! we have picture day today so mami did my hair special, but she brushes really hard.” the girl leaned up and whispered the last part in your ear making you laugh. 

“bueno, se ve hermoso. but make sure you do not blink in your picture, and no silly faces at the camera!” you poked at her with a playful glare making her giggle and push your hands away. 

“we thought we’d drop by to say hola and check on the patient!” elena pushed your head with a teasing grin, now stood behind the sofa as you turned a little to be able to speak to her.

“oh! and-” elena reached into her bag, pulling out a stack of papers as you perked up in relief. “eres un salvavidas!” you took them carefully, leaning forward to place them on the coffee table, rolling your eyes as your mami swooped in and immediately rushed them off to your room.

“they are all different reports, all public knowledge and from the last five or so years. what do you need them for amiga?” elena asked curiously about the files she’d sourced, copied and printed at your request. “research paper, if i ever get left alone to work on it!” you grumbled with a huff.

“there are eyes everywhere!” you whispered, pulling a silly face making sofia giggle and elena shake her head but with a small smile as your phone chimed in your lap. “oye sofia, i planted some new flowers in the garden nena. would you like to see before you go?” your mami asked, the four year old practically levitating to her side as eli lead her outside hand in hand.

“your favourite norwegian?” elena guessed with a grin, rounding the sofa and taking a seat beside you as you frowned at the message, eyebrows furrowed together.

“how did you-” your head snapped toward her, baffled at how she’d picked up on it so easy until you saw the knowing smirk and put it together she’d clearly read it over your shoulder.

“you promised to stop being so nosy, puta!” you shoved at her shoulder, your phone plucked from your hand by the older girl who waved you off, already filled in on the disaster that had been your first study session with solstråle.

“heard you broke your ankle. i can drive you to the library?” elena read out the message from ingrids sister and pushed you away as you reached for your phone back. “oh she seems harmless fresa, that is a nice offer to drive a cripple!” elena teased as you pulled another face. 

“ella es una gilipollas.” you quipped with a roll of your eyes, trying to reach for your phone back again as elena pushed you away once more. “i thought you were going to try again? give her a chance? that you felt bad with how you treated her.” elena reminded you of your own words as you groaned loudly.

“si, i will tutor her. but that does not mean i have to like it or her, and i do not want to be stuck in a car with her.” you scoffed, again pushed away as you tried to take your phone back. “elena no! elena!” you protested, held off by one arm and a hand against your forehead as her fingers flew against the keyboard with the other.

“you have an attitude problem amiga, tan hostil y malhumorada. you think your mami or your hermanas will let you take the bus to the library?” elena reminded as you finally snatched your phone from her grip. 

“you know we do have that wheelchair in the back at the clinic, maybe i could-” you tuned her out as you sighed at what the girl had texted back. ‘that would be lovely! thank you.’ it would certainly not be lovely, however elena did have some point in that perhaps an awkward car ride with a broody norwegian might be better than with alexia who no doubt would insist she carry you inside as if the floor was lava.

so with a stubborn huff you quickly sent your own message back to sol. ‘sorry, that was my friend with my phone. she thinks I have an attitude problem, you can drive me. I guess.’ you didn’t have to wait long for a response, rolling your eyes yet again as you read over it.

‘well I’m not arguing with the attitude thing. I’ll pick you up at 4:15.’

elena still chattering on and you still very much not listening, your nails tapped against your screen as you typed your own reply.

‘your car better not be as unorganized as your backpack.’

an ever so slight quirk in your lip at that, proud of your comeback which wasn’t laced with as much malice as it might seem to the untrained eye.

‘as you wish, dr. putellas.’

~

“is the answer on my face engen?” you questioned without even looking up from your own studies, feeling the norweigans curious gaze burn into your forehead. “no.” the girl mumbled, flushing bright red at being caught staring.

“then stop looking at it and work on the math.” you hid a smile at how flustered the stoically silent girl seemed as she cleared her throat and slouched back in her seat with a signature scowl. “i was looking at the board. behind you.” she nodded above your head as you glanced back and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“the empty one?” “yes.”

“tonta.” you muttered to yourself, the norwegian ready to fire an insult back at you until she noticed the small smile of amusement peeking through the corners of your mouth, realising there wasn’t really much malice behind the word at all.

were you, teasing her? being friendly? no, surely not.

“what is this?” you clicked your tongue in annoyance as your paper was snatched from the desk in front of you, the tall brunette squinting as her eyes scanned the paper, pushing back so her chair was teetering on only its back two legs as she kept the paper out of your reach and you huffed.

“grown up work!” you stood up and reached across, snatching it right back with a roll of your eyes as now solstråle smiled seeing she was getting under your skin. “i am older than you.” the norwegian reminded, again swinging her chair to balance on the back two legs as you glanced up with an unimpressed look.

“act it, engen.” you quipped in broken english, tapping a manicured finger against the math equations the norwegian was supposed to be working on instead of bothering you with your studies. “why do you want to be a doctor?” the taller girl asked quietly, hands now gripping the edge of the desk in the small meeting room you’d booked to keep her chair balancing on only the back two legs as you sighed.

you’d at least managed to coax her through two worksheets, which given how horrible the first session had gone, was progress. once you’d actually gotten her to admit you’d jumped a little ahead in assuming her understanding and you could take it back to basics, she was understanding things a little more. 

“not a doctor. nurse.” you corrected without looking up from the article you were summarising, highlighting its key passages with a bright orange marker. the girl didn’t talk anymore, returning to her usual silent ways, however once again you could feel her bright eyes burning into your forehead, wordlessly waiting for your actual answer.

with an overly dramatic sigh you looked up and sat back in your chair a little, solstråle shifting uncomfortably at the way your sharp gaze raked slowly over her for a moment as if sizing her up and scanning for some sort of imperfection.

“i like helping, learning. this-it is…interesting, and important. i like to be eh how do you say it? challenged, and this is not easy. i find reading, writing, remembering, all easy. but this is hard, makes it…fun.” you struggled to articulate yourself without your native tongue, always making sure, as requested, you speak to the scandi in english unless you were actively trying to work on her spanish which you’d not really had a chance to, yet.

the norwegian only nodded at your answer, a soft thump sounding as the chair dropped back down on all four legs, solstråle picking up her pen again and pulling the worksheet closer to her. the sudden change in demeanour back to silent and stuffy had your eyes rolling as you bit back the urge to question why she was like this, choosing to hold your tongue instead.

when the alarm on your phone went off to signal the end of your agreed upon time you had to bite back a smile this time as the tall norwegian almost fell to the floor in shock at the obnoxious chime of your alarm, scowling at your quiet laughter and muttering something you couldn’t understand under her breath.

before either one of you could break the strange silence that had filled the room you reached into your backpack, pulling something out and reaching across the table, dropping a small stack of books in front of solstråle who frowned.

“what are these?” she asked slowly, picking one up which had quite a tattered cover, every single book with a once brightly coloured title page had all long faded, two of them even taped up and most with well loved dog eared pages.

“books.” you drawled back sarcastically as she shot you a glare. “books, for niños. you will read them. help with your spanish!” you ordered with a curt nod, admittedly a little beguiled to part ways with them even for just a little while but it had been albas suggestion since that same little stack you’d read to death and back with her as a child had been what helped you.

“kids books?” the norwegian scoffed as you now gave her an evil look. “sí. and look after them engen!” you warned, perfectly painted fingernails pointing at her menacingly as solstråle started to argue, shut down by the firm and unwavering glare you shot at her.

“fine. even if it is stupid!” she grumbled, just loud enough for you to hear but if you did you made no move to show it, starting to pack up your things. 

“are you going to the final?” the norwegian asked quietly as you paused, leaning back in your chair and nodding, wincing a little as you rolled your moon boot clad foot as best as you could, a small bolt of pain shooting through your toes. 

“with my family. you are going?” you asked back as now she nodded, advising she would be sitting with mapi’s parents in the family and friends section. you faltered just slightly at her answer, eyebrows creasing as curiosity drifted over you as to why she would not be sitting with ingrids parents, her own family.

but deciding though today had been significantly less tense, you’d hardly call the pair of you friends, and as much as you were curious you knew not to push what little of a rocky relationship you were forming with the broody brunette.

you thanked her as she stood, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and grabbing your dreaded crutches from where they rested against the wall, not missing the way you gave the two sticks a clearly annoyed look.

“i will see you there then, before we meet to study again. if you want to study again.” you left the statement not quite as a question, though you hoped she would sense you were seeking some sort of confirmation or denial to the subtle proposal.

“i would like to. this was helpful, even if it was boring.” she was fast to to add on the last bit as you allowed yourself a small smile which was gone as soon as it appeared, unsure why you suddenly felt as if you needed a guard up but the way the taller girl was looking down at you had something in your stomach feeling a little strange.

she offered you a hand up, a hand you couldn’t help notice was a little swollen, a slight crease in your eyebrows as you studied her wrist which seemed just not quite right, maybe an old injury? it was probably nothing.

you accepted her help, grunting quietly as she pulled you to your feet, hurrying to slip your crutches under your arms as you mumbled a quiet thanks. you were eye to eye for a moment, or as eye to eye as you could be with the tall norwegian towering several inches above you.

then as soon as you seemed steady on your own feet she stepped back, fiddling with the frayed straps of her backpack, looking around the room, really at anything but you.

“boring?” you scoffed at her previous statement. “boring is watching you try to multiply double digit numbers engen.” and with that remark hanging in the air you began to crutch out of the room, solstråle quick to dart forward to pull the door open for you to hobble through, the tiniest of smiles on her lips when she thought you weren’t looking.

“well sorry that we are not all as smart as you, dr putellas.”

[itelya]

enterprising tutor. nerd! gojo satoru x fem! reader.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Gojo Satoru’s mocking voice pulls you out of your already fragile concentration. Sitting across from you, glasses on his nose, he stares at you with that smug look that makes you want to throw your notebook at his face.

You squeeze your pencil. “If you stopped talking in riddles, maybe I’d understand better.”

He laughs softly, his smile widening his lips as if he found the situation amusing. With a lazy gesture, he flips through your notebook, his index finger casually tracing the margin of an equation you’re supposed to solve.

“Come on, Y/N, it’s not that complicated… You take this function, you derive it, and hop, you have your result.”

“ ‘hop’? Do you think it’s magic or what?” you growl, glaring at him.

Gojo rests his chin in his palm and stares at you, the shadow of his glasses half-hiding his piercing blue eyes. “To me, math is a bit like magic. It’s all about logic and elegance.”

“You’re an insufferable tutor.”

He smiles wider. “And yet, you keep coming to me for tutoring. Interesting reasoning.”

You cross your arms. “I have no choice, I have a test tomorrow. And for some reason, my teacher thought it was a good idea to stick me with you.”

Gojo clicks his tongue, pretending to be offended. “Ouch, that hurts. Are you implying that I’m a bad tutor?”

You sigh, your cheeks a little hot. The problem isn’t that he’s a bad teacher. It’s that he’s… distracting. His messy white hair, his cheeky smile, the way he always leans a little too close to you when he talks… Everything about him is an invitation to lose track.

As if to prove your point, he suddenly leans in, his face inches from yours. “Hm? You’re not listening.”

You pull away abruptly, your heart pounding. “Yes, yes, I am listening, you stupid nerd!”

His smile stretches even wider. “Oh? So tell me, what did I just explain?”

You open your mouth… and close it again immediately. Total silence. The void in your brain.

Gojo bursts out laughing. “Ah-ha! I knew it! You’re too busy staring at me to follow my explanations!”

You instantly turn red. “You’re so self-centered!”

He presses his fist to his cheek, looking falsely thoughtful, and smiles even wider. “It’s not my fault if I’m fascinating~.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to fail my test because of you… Thank you.”

Gojo picks up your notebook and writes something in it. When you look down, you see that he’s written down an equation with a sentence scribbled in blue ink just below it:

“If you pass, I’ll buy you a bubble tea. If you fail… we’ll do another tutoring session. Just you and me.”

You look up at him, but he pretends nothing, an enigmatic smile on his lips then winks at you.

Aren’t nerds supposed to be outgoing and not so enterprising?

nerd gojo series - masterlist

[nightingale-prompts]

Godling-DCxDP prompt

Many don't understand what it's like to gaze into the abyss. To truly know the haunting moment it gazes back. Even fewer can see still stand to throw themselves into that abyss.

Tim never understood why cultists worship monstrosities, being that promised the end of everything for nothing in return. He had seen the remnants of human sacrifices, rituals gone wrong, and man-made horrors beyond human comprehension. Part of him regretted agreeing to partner with Constantine to solve these cases. But another wanted to know more.

After searching through another half-destroyed tome he found something. A location to a summoning circle, an ancient one that these cultists were searching for. The one they needed to finally successfully summon their god.

But they got there too late. The cult had finished their ritual and the "god" they had summoned stood before them.

That god was...perfect. Disgustingly perfect, dreadfully beautiful, and horrifyingly enchanting. His mind etched every detail in his memory. It felt like his mind had conjured this person from his dreams, day and night. It was like looking at an illusion. But his eyes were a hellishly bright Lazarus green.

The cultist bowed to him and his smile, his perfect unnaturally white smile was full of soft warmth. Tim understood at that moment why they worshipped him. Their minds couldn't escape this web of divine energy. They were so enraptured by finally seeing prove of the divine.

"You all have done enough. Your souls will come with me. To the abyss." He said calmly as he waved his hand and each cultist dissappeared.

He sighed softly as he turned his gave to Tim and John.

"You offed 'em? I thought they were your followers." Constantine said gruffly.

"I have no followers. These souls have caused so much damage to this world. They can't be allowed to stay here."

"So you decided to rapture them?" Constantine raised an eyebrow.

"It's complicated. Yes, they did horrible things but if they hadn't discovered the tomes of the old king they wouldn't have ended up this way. Have pity on them. They are just mortals scared and confused searching for meaning. Like I was. I have sent them to the abyss. Their souls with dissipate into the void. There will be no pain. No eternal punishment. Just an end. They will be at peace, I promise. It is what they want." The god's voice echoed, his features rippled as he moved showing afterimages of alternate forms he used.

It was odd. Every fiber of Tim's being screamed for him to bow, to worship, and to give himself to this being. Yet, his feet remained stubbornly planted on the ancient dusty floor.

"Don't look directly at it," Constantine whispered hissed.

Right. You probably shouldn't stare at the otherworldy being that likely has mind warping abilities. Especially one that just said he erased his own followers from existence and saying it was a good thing.

"I'm really sorry. I should make it up to you. Clockwork will be pissed enough that I interfereed so I have to do something to at least make up for this mess."

"You can kick off by doing one and buggering off" Constantine said immediately.

"So cold. How about you? What do you want?"

"I think an explanation would help," Tim said only to get elbowed by Constantine.

"You ain't gotta know nothing, mate. The more we know, the dodgier it gets." Constantine said firmly. "Whatever you are, you need to bugger off. You’ll wreck the noggins of everyone around you."

"I don't mean to. I don't ask people to become obsessed with me or worship me. Mortals have such weak minds they cave at my presence. But I can't help it. I lost my human body recently and can't turn this off."

The being groaned but to human ears it was similar to a purr.

"Seriously, everything I do is filtered through some sensory thing that makes you little mortals think its the greatest thing ever no matter how simple. Touching you would probably melt your brain with how good it would feel. So the trench coat man is probably right."

"You said you lost your human body. How?" Tim asked still staring at the floor as he felt the godling came closer.

"A bad fight. My mortal form wasn't indestructible but saving my family made it more than worth it. But...I haven't seen them since. Im still getting used to this while thing. I just wanted to reach out and find some answers so i reached into this universe and well...you can probably tell what happened next. I just wanted to make it right and fix it. The other ancients said this was the best option and..."

Every moment he spoke the less godly he seemed.

Constantine still wasn't willing to help and had to drag Tim away. When Tim actually tried to look up the fodling was gone.

"Never do that again." The brit said sternly. "Now help me clean this mess up."

[holyblonded]

the putellas test | birds of a feather

pairings: hopkins!paige bueckers x black!oc, alexia putellas x platonic!reader, alba putellas x platonic!reader

summary: alexia plans a series of test to see if paige is worthy enough to date her niece

warnings: none(?)

notes: i’m finding my grove back for this series 👻

Paige had barely stepped foot inside the Putellas household when she realized two things:

1. Alba was definitely the fun, carefree aunt.

2. Alexia Putellas was about to ruin her life.

It wasn’t that Paige had expected smooth sailing. She had heard plenty of stories about La Reina from Cecilia. The unwavering discipline. The intensity on and off the pitch. The death stares. Cecilia always said it with love, of course, but that didn’t make it less terrifying.

And now here Paige was, standing in the middle of the Putellas living room, completely at the mercy of one of the greatest footballers in history.

“Ah, so this is Paige Bueckers,” Alexia said, arms crossed, her voice void of any warmth. Paige blinked at the intensity in her gaze.

She had met Geno Auriemma, a man who practically yelled for a living, and he still didn’t intimidate her half as much as Alexia Putellas did in that moment.

“Uh, yeah. Hi?” Paige offered, throwing in a small wave for good measure.

Cecilia, her own girlfriend, stood off to the side, looking way too amused for someone who was supposed to love her.

“She’s real, Ale,” Alba teased from the couch, sipping her coffee like she was about to enjoy a show. “Not a hologram.”

“Yet to be determined,” Alexia muttered, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she straightened up and gave Paige a once-over, scanning her like a book.

Paige had never felt so judged in her life.

“Do you have a problem?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

Alba choked on her coffee.

Cecilia’s eyes widened. “Paige why—”

Alexia raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

Again, Paige had two options: backtrack immediately and pray for survival or commit to it.

She sighed. “You’re staring at me like I just walked into a courtroom without a lawyer.”

Alba burst into laughter breaking the silence, actually wheezing as she clutched her stomach.

“Oh, I like her,” Alba grinned, wiping a tear from her eye. “You picked a good one, neboda (niece).”

Alexia, however, remained stone-faced. Paige swallowed.

Cecilia, still looking a little worried, decided to step in. “Ale, don’t scare her off. I’ve had this one since kindergarten.”

Alexia exhaled loudly and finally uncrossed her arms. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s see if she survives the test first.”

Paige froze. “The what?”

Alba whistled. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. She did these with my partners too.”

“How well do you know Cecilia?” Alexia demanded, hands on her hips.

Paige blinked. “Uh… really well?”

“We’ll see about that.” Alexia pulled out a notebook and flipped to a page clearly labeled “Paige Test.”

Alba snorted. “Oh, she’s been planning this.”

Paige’s heart started racing. “Is this a joke?”

Alexia stared at her like she had just said she preferred orange juice over apple juice.

“First question,” Alexia said, ignoring Paige’s mild panic. “What’s Cecilia’s go-to comfort meal?”

“Easy,” Paige smirked. “Cocas.”

Cecilia grinned. “Correct.”

Alexia frowned, flipping the page. “Butchered the pronunciation, but, fine. What was Cecilia’s favorite toy as a kid?”

Paige didn’t even hesitate. “Her stuffed koala, Coco.”

Alba gasped. “Wait, Coco still exists?”

Cecilia groaned. “Yes, and now I regret telling Paige she’s still around.”

Paige beamed. Alexia narrowed her eyes.

“Alright, last one,” Alexia muttered. “What was the name of Cecilia’s first pet?”

Paige hesitated, then said, “She never had a pet.”

Cecilia gave her a proud nod. “Correct.”

Alba whistled. “Damn, I was hoping you’d get that one wrong. Just cause.”

Alexia huffed, clearly annoyed that Paige passed the first round. “Fine. But that was just the warm-up.”

Paige suddenly had a bad feeling.

“Why are we at a field?” Paige whispered, standing stiffly on the pristine turf pitch as if she’d accidentally wandered into a gladiator arena.

Alexia smirked, casually tossing a ball between her hands like a villain in a sports movie. “If you’re going to date my niece, you need to prove you’re worthy.”

Paige crossed her arms. “I feel like I should’ve signed a waiver for this.”

“Beat me in a 1v1.”

Paige blinked. “What.”

On the sidelines, Cecilia was already cackling, her phone out to document the unfolding disaster. “Amor, I love you, but you’re so screwed.”

Alba, who had settled comfortably into a lawn chair with an iced coffee, nearly choked on her drink. “Oh, this is going to be hilarious.”

Paige turned back to Alexia. “You’re playing like it’s a Champions League final, aren’t you?”

Alexia raised a brow. “Of course.”

Paige exhaled. “Cool. Just wanted to mentally prepare myself before I get sent into early retirement.”

The game started, and within ten seconds, Paige knew she was doomed. Alexia moved like she was playing an intense game, which, unfortunately for Paige, meant she had not a single ounce of mercy in her bones. The second Paige even thought about trying to defend, Alexia nutmegged her so smoothly that Alba screamed from the sidelines, falling out of her chair in laughter.

“Oh my god—SHE COOKED YOU,” Alba howled, kicking her feet on the ground.

Cecilia wasn’t much better, barely holding the camera steady as she gasped through laughter. “Amor, bend your knees, stay low—oh, never mind. She got you again.”

Paige was starting to sweat. She knew she wasn’t a football player, but this was getting embarrassing. She tried again, this time using her basketball instincts to anticipate Alexia’s movement. It almost worked until Alexia spun around her like she was an orange traffic cone and easily slotted the ball into the mini goal.

Paige groaned. “Did you have to add the spin move? That was excessive.”

Alexia smirked. “I was holding back.”

“Holding back?” Paige echoed, hands on her knees. “I think my soul left my body on that last turn.”

Alba clapped her hands like a delighted spectator. “Ale, you should’ve been a bullfighter. The way you let her charge and then just moved out of the way? Beautiful.”

Paige shot Alba a betrayed look. “You’re supposed to be the fun aunt.”

“I am,” Alba grinned. “That’s why I’m enjoying this so much.”

Fifteen minutes later, Paige lay face-down on the grass, sweaty, breathless, and questioning every decision in her life.

Alexia stood over her like a victorious warrior. “That was embarrassing.”

Paige groaned, her voice muffled against the grass. “You slide tackled me.”

“This is Spain,” Alexia shrugged. “We don’t take it easy.”

Cecilia jogged over, shaking her head. “Ale, you’re literally the most overprotective person in the world when it comes to family, but you just sent my girlfriend flying across the field.”

Alexia crossed her arms. “If she wants to date you, she needs to be strong enough to protect you.”

“From what? A rogue defender? A pigeon in Plaça Catalunya?” Cecilia shot back. “Besides, she’s a basketball player!”

“You never know,” Alexia muttered ominously.

Paige groaned louder, still sprawled on the ground. “Is this the last test?”

Alexia smirked. “One more.”

Paige dared to glance up. “Oh god.”

Alba grinned. “Good luck. This one’s psychological.”

Paige sat slumped on the couch, exhausted, while Alexia paced in front of her like an overzealous teacher preparing for a final.

Cecilia sat cross-legged next to her, munching on a snack with the carefree air of someone who had zero stress in life, unlike Paige, who had just been subjected to a day of physical and psychological warfare.

Alba was leaned up against the kitchen counter, watching the whole ordeal like it was a reality show.

Alexia finally stopped pacing, turning to face Paige with the gravity of a judge about to deliver a verdict.

“Final question.” Her voice was calm, but there was something undeniably intense about it.

Paige, despite being wiped from the impromptu 1v1 and whatever else Alexia had put her through, sat up a little straighter, her exhaustion fading under the weight of the moment.

Alexia took a step closer, studying her with sharp, discerning eyes. “Do you love Cari?”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “With everything in me.”

Cecilia, who had just been about to take another bite of her snack, paused, her expression softening.

Alba let out a quiet “Awww” from the kitchen.

For a moment, the room was silent. Alexia simply stared at Paige, as if searching for any cracks in her answer. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she gave a slow, approving nod. “Good.”

Paige exhaled, feeling relief flood her body. Maybe, finally, she had passed the test—

Then, with absolutely no warning, Alexia leaned in close, her voice dropping to an ominous whisper.

“Because if you ever hurt her,” she murmured, “I know people.”

Paige froze. Her brain went blank for a solid five seconds before she blinked rapidly.

“Did you just threaten me?”

From the kitchen, Alba howled with laughter, nearly knocking over her drink. “Ale, you can’t just say that to her!”

Alexia shrugged, completely unfazed. “I’m just saying.”

Paige turned to Cecilia, still slightly shaken. “Does she actually know people?”

Cecilia sighed like someone who had pondered this question too many times. “Honestly? I don’t even know.”

Alexia remained dead serious for a moment longer, letting the weight of her words linger. Then, finally, she cracked a smile, the first genuine one she’d shown all day.

“Welcome to the family, Paige.”

Paige exhaled deeply, her entire body sagging into the couch.

“Jesus Christ.”

Alba, still grinning, raised her glass in Paige’s direction. “You survived, Bueckers. I honestly wasn’t sure if you would.”

Paige groaned. “Neither was I.”

Cecilia leaned into Paige’s side, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You did good, amor.”

Paige huffed. “I better have. I think I aged five years.”

Alexia smirked, arms crossed. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen what I did to Alba’s first girlfriend.”

Paige paled and her throat grew dry.

Alba threw her head back and cackled. “Ale, stop terrifying her!”

Alexia just smiled. “No promises.”

[h1biscusgal]

Blockages and fear : so close, but out of reach, how to destroy them to get what you want?

If you want to get straight to the point, scroll down.

Hey y'all! So as you may know, yesterday I posted that I'm gonna enter, right? My mindset was perfect, my timing was perfect, I just had posted a method (hypnagogic state) and I was really confident I could enter.

Now some of you will ask, "but Coco, you posted that you didn't enter! Why's that?"

Before I "tried" for the void, my mind subtly shifted, going towards a certain fear of a deadline I was having, because we all have them, right? Some want to do it now, maybe tomorrow there's something, some wanted to do it before a certain month rolls by, for me, it was because I got extremely tired these days with studying for my national held exams in June, that I was slightly burning out, so obviously, my mindset was not on "I will enter the void" it was more on "I HAVE to enter the void because of xyz."

And believe that's a mistakes, and it's calling yearning and desperation.

All of y'all know how CLOSE I get all the time, and yet it sounds out of my reach, weird, right? I managed to command myself to wake up in the void, last time entered it in 5 min, and yet here I am, still unable to identify what was it that's stopping me a bit, because y'all, there's no shame in trying and finding things along the way, I'm as human as everyone, so naturally I got frustrated, and sat down to see my problems, everyone has them, the key is to solve them.

Again, my blockage was the desperation, which a lot of us have that takes us nowhere, I used to have it 24/7 before but I managed to get it away, the deadline didn't use to bother me, either way I found out it's trying to creep in again, and now, let me show you a way we can both try to gently show our mind we could do it.

(first of all, all these methods and shit I post like these are not necessary at all, but since it works, it's helpful, here you go 🌺)

Identify the fear or block, this is something new to many of us, we've all been taught to just push the fear aside and throw it out of the window, no, it's alright, sit down and find what's the fear, what's blocking you from the mindset that should be "I can enter anytime, the void is me and I've been doing this since ages, I have no fear." Here is a coupe of lists of common fears people have when trying for the void :

Deadline for something.

Feeling tired of this reality.

Escapism.

Fear of the unknown in the void.

Boredom.

Fear of failure, doubt.

Overthinking and perfectionism.

Panic.

Victimized mindset.

There are many more, these are just some examples, identify it, for me it was wanting to get out of here from studying too much, as it was draining me, so, feeling tired of this reality, that's why desperation came along, now that we have found the root of the mistake, how to block it?

Choose a couple of days to reset your fears and blocks, guys I swear it helps so much, for example, 3 days to fix the thought of being desperate for the void, choose how many days as you want, minimum is one day.

During that given days that you have now, use it to your advantage to be aware of the fact that your fear did not exist, ever, be in that natural state that it wasn't even there. (Best is if you won't try for the void these days, simply act as if you had nothing to fear against the void)

Every doubt, every nagging, every negative thoughts? Banish them GENTLY, do not push them away, simply tell yourself "but that won't happen at all! I'm already natural with the void." This will help your mindset immediately and immensely.

Best affirmation you can say during the day is "the void is my natural state."

It is done, there is no blockage, I suggest doing the HMM method too, with the suggestion of "the void is so natural to me." Good luck y'all 🌺

[hedwig221b]

Hi! I love ur recommendations so much and I know u did a feral Derek rec but I was wondering if u had any good feral Stiles u have in mind? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Hi 💕 Here you go!

Little Wild Animal by DiscontentedWinter

Derek Hale finds a feral human on his pack's property. Humans are supposed to be extinct. But then, Stiles is full of surprises.

In this Darkness (It's You I Hear) by Kedreeva

Deucalion bites Stiles on the way out of town, and Derek finds him in an unexpected condition….

Ready or Not by spaceprincessem

Ready or not here I come “Is it him?” The man whispered to the woman standing next to him, a gleeful smile on his face. “Is that-” “Void?” Stiles asked. Derek took a shuddering breath. Stiles no longer sounded broken or pleading. His tone was cold, cruel, calculating. “Void.” The woman repeated with a small nod of her head. Stiles' smirk widened now, “That’s what you wanted, right?”

Dragon my Heart by Armybrat26

Stiles goes missing for three months. Kidnapped, tortured and suddenly realizing he's not fully human, Derek and the others find him. The only thing is, his mind isn't exactly what it used to be.

Duumvirate by Effra

There's a connection there, right from the start. But the bond that they cannot understand when they are barely more than children, becomes crucial to them both when fate takes an unexpected turn. Stiles has been bitten. And he's an Alpha.

It Was a Wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?” Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping. Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death. “Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least. “Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?” “Yes.” “Why?” “How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Only You Can Calm Me Down by AMatchInWater

Stiles turns into a fox after the Nogitsune leaves him and he thinks that Derek is his Alpha and not Scott. With Derek having left for South America with Cora, Stiles feels separated from not only his pack but his mate and goes feral. Of course Derek immediately comes back when the sheriff calls him and demands he come fix Stiles. It isn't until he's back in Beacon Hills that he sees just what he needs to fix.

Throw Me to the Wolves by skoosiepants

He feels the physical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mind struggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shuddering breath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish way they’re weakly healing. There is nothing, nothing he wants more than to have Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known, though, that something like that would never happen to him. OR - Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

Other fic recs: angsty fics + pt2 + pt3 | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious Stiles | oblivious sterek | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic | void!Stiles | sheriff dissaproves | Stiles doesn't know about werewolves | soft fics | hales love stiles

[shortcakesturns]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 - 𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐑. 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

summary: rob fucks you in soulties lol

warnings: unprotected sex, public sex (nobody sees) pet names, female reader, kind of cheating mentions? (not locked in with anyone.) p in v, oral (f recieving) sorry if it’s not that good ☹️

being in a couple rob had its ups and downs, he likes to explore but you liked him. unfortunately the exploring led to him getting by another girl. rob was genuinely upset, he respected you. He felt different about you way different.

The whole day you couldn’t get it out of your head. You sat at the villa staring at liv and rob talk it away to you it didn’t look natural. they looked awkward and you had ill feelings towards liv coming and stealing him from your grasp. You couldn’t let her know you were salty, no..but you could get back at her.

Your legs moved quicker then your brain as you walked closer and closer to rob. “hey rob can I talk to you?”

“yeah sure.” rob got up from where he was sitting and began to follow you as you led him to soul-ties.

“so, I just want to talk to you about what happened last night you know.” you said as you laid down on the cushioned area. Rob quickly laid down next to you.

“me too.” he agreed with you.

“so, I’m lowkey upset by what happened, I know it’s not your fault but I feel like we had a insanely deep connection rob.” you look at him.

“yeah no me too, I think what she did was uncalled for and I was exploring others but I made it clear you were my number one and wasn’t open to the idea of being picked.” he frowns a bit.

“can I make it up to you y/n?” he looks into your eyes.

you pondered how he could make it up to you, you weren’t sure what could fill the void that you once called your couple in the villa. you had been publicly humiliated in front of thousands on tv.

“sure..” you hesitated but gave in. because who could resist those beautiful enticing eyes.

Rob wasted no time grabbing the back of your neck softly but strong enough to pull you to his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth every few pecks, the pecks became slower and deeper but rougher. Eventually both of your tongues meet and rob tugs on the waistband of your shorts.

he lays you on your back and slowly slips off your shorts and underwear tracing his fingers along your pussy. The warmth grows by the seconds and each small touch rob makes. “can I y/n? words sweetie. please.” he groans.

“yes rob, yes please.” you nod desperate for his touch.

“good girl.” he wastes no time sipping down to your wet pussy and pushing your knees to your chest to get a better angle when tasting your sweet spot. His tongue lapped your clit over and over again every other lap entering your hole before tongue fucking your hole while using his thumb to rub your clit.

He mumbles into your pussy as you feel as if your getting dragged to the edge with each lap and dip of his tongue, his thumb rubbing your clit continuously until you tense up feeling your orgasm approaching.

“that’s it let go for me sweet girl.” rob keeps the attack consistent letting you ride out your high.

“more..more rob please.” he smirks when you beg.

“begging for me? since you wanna be good i’ll give you more.” you hear him fumble with his belt buckle.

his pants drop leaving him with just underwear but those are quickly slipped off while he rubs his tip up and down your slit teasing you.

“no teasing rob.” you cry out.

“okay princess no teasing.” rob aligns his tip with your hole and begins to sink in bottoming out throwing his head back in pleasure.

“best pussy ever.” his pace speeds up roughly.

moans escape from your lips, the pleasure so intense that you can’t help but let mewls slip past your lips. his whispers and moans are incoherent too pussy drunk to form words. you guys were in a trance.

a white ring forms around the base of his cock, cream coating his length. “fuck i’m close sweet girl.” his pace begins to get sloppier and sloppier.

“me too rob fuck.” you clench around him as you feel ropes of cum hit your cervix. rob pulls out and pulls your pants up and puts your shirt on and fixes himself. he lays next to you moving strands of hair out of your face.

“if we recouple soon it’s you, your like a drug, and i’m way too addicted.” he presses a kiss against your lips while holding you

—- SORRY IF ITS BAD OR SPELLING MISTAKES ITS LATE NOT PROOFREAD

[greynatomy]

limited

alessia russo x reader

hello 👋

this fic is inspired from the movie ‘seven pounds’. have you watched it? i had this idea after i finished watching and was bawling my eyes out.

i think i’ve made it known to some that i like angst on my birthday, so as a gift from me to you, here’s some angst.

let me know what you think

wc: 8.8k

trigger warning: suicide

———

in seven days, god created the world. in seven seconds, i shattered mine.

Alessia Russo had always known that her career wouldn’t last forever. No footballers did. But a career ending the way Alessia’s did come unexpected — abrupt, final, and out of her control.

Alessia was living the life of her dreams. Signing for Manchester United after playing for the University of North Carolina, she felt unstoppable. Nothing can slow her down… until. 

Eighty minutes into the match against Manchester City, the score is tied at two. Alessia was running down the right side, ball at her feet when…

“Alessia Russo has gone down!” The announcer screamed. “Russo has not moved. The medical team is rushing to her now.”

The stadium was eerily silent, players on the field formed a circle around her and the medical team to give them privacy. Everyone was holding their breath. The stretcher came out and carried Alessia away, still no signs of life.

“I was just told that both teams have decided to forfeit the match. Everyone’s a bit shaken up, understandably so. Thank you all for watching. Prayers and well wishes to Alessia Russo.”

Once Alessia becomes conscious, the first thing she hears is the beeps from the monitors, wires attached all over her. She was confused at first, the last thing she remembered was running down the pitch and now here she was laying in a hospital bed.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” A nurse walked into the room, checking that everything is still in good order. “I’ll go ahead and call your doctor.”

More waiting.

“It’s nice to see you awake.” The doctor says, sitting on the stool.

“What happened?” her voice was raspy, throat was dry.

“Well, this isn’t easy to hear, but you suffered a cardiac arrest.”

“What?” She was speechless.

“We found out that you have a congenital heart failure. It was surprising to us that it hadn’t been caught before.”

“What-what does this mean? I can still play right?”

The doctor sighed, “I’m sorry Alessia.”

Football is… was her whole life. What was she supposed to do now?

The news of her retirement came as a shock to everyone. No one knew. Not even her teammates, her friends. Alessia just up and left, the social media post was the last thing people — except her family — had heard from her. 

You were sitting on a chair placed in the corner of the living room. The room was almost pitch black, all the curtains were shut. You were staring into space like you’ve been doing for the last couple of weeks. You were a void. You shut everyone out.

The phone ringing brings you out of your thoughts. Sighing, you slowly get up from your seat, trudging to where the phone is. 

“What?” you grated out.

“Well, hello to you too sunshine.” the voice on the other side replied.

“What d’you want Samuel?”

“Can’t a brother check up on his sister?”

“If that’s all you’re calling for then goodbye.”

You were about to hang up the phone when, “Wait, wait, wait! Don’t hang up yet.”

“What is it?” you put the phone back to your ear.

“I wanna come see you.”

“Goodbye, Samuel.”

You hung up, carelessly throwing the phone somewhere. You needed to get out of the house, so you threw on a jacket and made your way out, walking to a cafe not far from where you live. You sat at a table in the corner observing all the people in the room. The bell of the front door rings, alerting everyone of another customer.

You see a flash of blonde from the corner of your eye, but you were too occupied with staring at your cup of coffee. Eventually getting bored, you scan the room again, seeing some new faces. One particular face intrigues you though. She was alone, like you, staring out the window. You don’t realize that you’re still staring until her eyes lock onto yours.

Her eyebrows furrow, probably wondering why you were looking at her. Curious, she gets up from her seat, cup in hand, and walks towards you. You move your gaze back to your coffee hoping she doesn’t walk up to you.

“Were you looking at me?” she asks, sitting down on the vacant seat across the table from you.

“Huh?” you reply, looking at her.

“I was sitting over there,” she points to where she was sitting. “Were you staring at me? Why were you staring at me?”

You take a sip of your coffee, taking a deep breath. “You intrigue me.”

“I-what? I intrigue you?” She was taken aback, not expecting that to come out of your mouth.

“Yeah, I don’t know. There is just… something about you.”

“Do you recognize me or something?”

“No? Am I supposed to?” you ask, now curious as to why she would think you would recognize her.

“Story for another time.”

You both start talking about anything and everything, the conversation easily flowing.

“Alright, listen. I gotta run, but it was great chatting with you.” You chug the rest of your coffee, smiling at Alessia as you walk away.

“Wait!” she exclaims, a hand grabbing onto your arm. “I’d like to continue our conversation.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’d like your name and possibly also your number.”

A small smile makes its way to your lips. You pat your pockets, hand going into your right pants pocket pulling a pen out. Taking the napkin on the table, you scribble your number on it, clicking your pen to be put back in your pocket.

“Name’s Y/N. Yours?”

“Alessia.”

“Well Alessia, I’ll be waiting for your call.”

With that, you walk away, leaving Alessia with a giddy smile on her face.

Pulling into a parking spot, you grab all that you have and head to the counter. You don’t see anyone, so you walk around when a person steps out from behind the curtain, signaling you to walk back to the front.

“Welcome to the Travel Inn, can I help you?”

“I need a room.”

“How many hours?”

“A couple weeks.”

Turning the key into the lock, you push the door open, quickly scanning the room. Setting your things down, you sit on the bed, reading over a newspaper you’ve kept for the last couple of months.

Seven Killed In Fatal Car Crash, One in Critical Condition

That night kept replaying in your mind.

The next day, you’re stood at Alessia’s front door, her inviting you over this morning.

“Hey, come in.”

Sitting at the table, she places a fresh cup of coffee in front of you.

“Thank you,” you say, taking a sip. “This is good coffee.”

You both picked up where you left off at the cafe, the conversation easily flowing. Alessia was light and full of life, but you can tell there’s something hidden beneath it all.

“What’s your story?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt, but the happiest people usually have the saddest story.”

You can see a sad smile appear on her face like she was reminiscing.

“I used to play football.”

“Used to?”

“Yeah and not to brag but I was pretty good.”

You chuckle, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Well, one game, I was on the field and the next thing I was lying in a hospital bed.”

You pause, your mind going back to your memories.

You look around the room. Everything is a bit blurry.

“Wh-where am I?” 

“Ms. Y/LN, calm down please.”

You rip the oxygen mask off of your face. “Emily! Where's my Emily?”

“Hey,” a touch on your arm brings you out of your head. “You okay? You spaced out a bit.”

“Yeah, sorry. What happened when you woke up?”

Alessia bites her lip, trying to keep it together.

“I was confused. I mean one moment I was on the pitch, running towards the goal and the next I was waking up in a hospital bed. I didn’t know why I was there, wires attached all over me.” You reach across the table, placing a comforting hand on her own. “They told me that I was lucky to wake up. I asked them if I would be able to play football again and they said ‘One more match could be the last thing you ever do.’ There was only one thing I had to do and so I announced my retirement.”

Your heart aches as you listen, the weight of her words sinking in. You squeeze her hand gently, offering a silent support before speaking.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been,” you say softly. “Giving something up that’s been your whole world… I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes flicker with a mix of pain and acceptance. “Yeah, but I had to choose life, even if it meant letting go of the dream.”

You nod, understanding the sacrifice. “You’re still that player, though. Everything you achieved—everything you fought for—that doesn’t just disappear.”

A faint smile tugs at her lips. “Thanks… I needed to hear that.”

The air between you shifts, heavier with understanding but lighter with hope.

You get back to the motel, carrying a glass tank, the guy behind the counter following behind you.

“You know you can’t take that in.”

“That’s good to know.” You smile at him, opening your door. “Have a good night,” you say, shutting the door on him.

You step into the warm cascade of water, letting it wash over your skin. The droplets trail down your body, mingling with the weight of your thoughts. The day has been heavy—every day has been heavy—but for a brief moment, the water feels like a release.

“C’mon! Just tell me where else we’re going!” she grabs onto your hand, the one that was resting on her thigh.

You run your hand across your face, clenching your eyes shut.

“I’m not telling you!” you glance at her, smiling at her before you look back toward the road. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Let me surprise you.”

“It better be good then baby.”

You turn the shower off, drying yourself off with a towel. Stumbling out of the shower, you wrap the towel around yourself, taking a seat at the edge of the tub.

“Oh, you have no idea!”

It happened so fast.

You’re driving, the road stretching out ahead of you, the hum of the engine steady beneath your hands. Her laughter is still ringing in your ears—light, warm—filling the car with life. You glance over at her, just for a second, catching the curve of her smile. She’s happy. They all are.

Your heart was full.

And then—

Metal twists. Tires scream. Glass explodes into a thousand stars. The world flips and everything slows as you’re weightless — suspended in the wreckage of a single, irreversible moment.

You hear it before you see it — the crunch of steel, the splintering of lives. 

Her laughter is gone, replaced by the sound of cries.

You reach out, but your hand finds nothing.

The car settles. The silence was thick and suffocating.

Standing in front of the mirror, you stare at yourself, hands gripping the edge of the sink. You want to forget it all, but you can’t.

You call her name — desperate and pleading. Your voice cracks, but there's no answer, just shallow breaths fading, then nothing at all.

You see her face, all broken and bloody. Her warmth was stolen away in an instant.

Your chest caves under the weight of it. The guilt floods in, sharper than any shards of glass.

This is your fault.

You scream.

You killed the person you loved.

Tears stream down your face.

The adrenaline wears off. You’re laid next to her, clutching her body in your arms. That’s how the paramedics found you, passed out, your arms around your lover.

You wake up but don’t open your eyes just yet. 

For a few seconds, you let yourself in that in-between space — half-asleep, half-aware, floating just outside of reality. The bed is warm, your body heavy with exhaustion from all the tears you shed last night. You wanted to stay in bed, not having the motivation to get up. 

Your eyes open.

The ceiling stares back at you, unchanged, but you know the moment is over. The memories from that night haunt your mind. You are about to close your eyes and drift off when your phone rings. Not looking at the screen, you answer.

“Hey, sorry for calling you so early,” you hear through the phone, making you sit up.

“Alessia,” you say breathily. “No, no. You’re fine, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to, uh, you know, have breakfast with me? And maybe spend the day together? You know have to. You could be busy. Shit, I should’ve asked that first. Are you busy? You probably are…”

You listened as she rambled, the corner of your lips twitching up. 

“I’d love to have breakfast with you.” That made Alessia stop her rambling, her side of the call going silent for a moment.

“Really?” she asks, not quite believing you.

“Of course. How could I say no?”

“Okay, cool. Cool. I’ll, uh, see you soon then.”

“You will.”

Hanging up, you go back to staring at the ceiling, trying to find motivation to get out of bed.

You ended up spending the whole day with Alessia, wasting the hours away. You were still wary around her, not wanting to get attached. Despite being so guarded, Alessia was determined to get some information out of you.

You’ve now found yourself walking alongside her, somehow making it to the beach.

“You’re like a locked book,” Alessia said one day as they walked along the pier.

“Maybe I like it that way,” you replied.

Alessia frowned. “What are you so afraid of?”

You stopped walking and turned to face her, her expression unreadable. “It’s not fear, Alessia. It’s reality. Some people aren’t meant to stick around.”

Alessia’s heart clenched at the finality in your voice. She wanted to push further, to break down the walls you had so carefully built, but she could sense that you weren’t ready.

“Are you okay?” Alessia asked, concern threading her voice.

You gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath, then said, “If you could start over, knowing everything you know now, would you do anything differently?”

Alessia blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t know. I guess I’d try to hold on to the things that matter more. The people who matter.”

You nodded, expression unreadable. “That’s a good answer.” Before Alessia could reply, “Let’s head back,” you say, walking ahead of her.

The walk back to Alessia’s was silent. Stopping in front of her door, you stare at her, Alessia oblivious to the way you are staring at her as she fumbles with her keys. Finally getting the key through the lock and twisting, you move your gaze when you notice hers moving toward you. 

“Have a good night Alessia.”

“You don’t want to come in?” Her eyebrows furrowed, looking disappointed.

“Not tonight,” you give you a small smile. “Sleep well.”

Dragging a giant cooler to your room, you were once again being trailed by the man from the front desk.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of shady stuff you got going on, but what are you bringing now?”

Opening the door, you step inside, dropping the cooler on the floor.

“Goodnight Steve.” You shut the door in his face.

“It’s Dave.”

You carry the cooler to the bathroom, opening it up, and you grab a bag, holding it up in front of you. You dump the contents out into the tank you brought in the night before, the water inside sloshing gently before settling. The room is quiet — too quiet — except for the soft hum of the filter. The glow from the tank casts a faint blue light, flickering against the walls, reflecting in your tired eyes.

You stand there for a moment, just watching.

The jellyfish drifts through the water, its translucent body pulsing in slow, rhythmic movements. Weightless. Effortless. It doesn’t fight the current; it simply exists. Something is mesmerizing about it, almost peaceful.

You rest your hand on the glass, fingers resting lightly. Cold. Smooth. Unforgiving.

You take a breath, steady, measured. You’ve planned every step, considered every detail. And yet, standing here, watching this delicate creature move with such quiet grace, a strange feeling tugs at you—something you can’t quite name.

But it doesn’t matter.

You pull your hand away from the glass.

The jellyfish continues to drift, untouched by the weight pressing down on your chest.

It doesn’t know what it’s here for.

But you do.

“The first time I ever saw a box jellyfish, I was twelve. My father took us to the aquarium. I never forgot what he said, that it was the ‘most deadly creature on Earth.’ To me it was just… the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

You called your friend over, wanting to discuss a few things. You’re sat at the desk, filling up some paperwork as he stood watching the tank.

“I talked to your doctor the other day, send over your files in the morning.”

“Is this everything?” you ask, not looking up from the papers. “Any questions?”

“Same one.”

“Same answer then.”

“You know, I was thinking last night, when we were fourteen and we made that pact.” You look over at him briefly. “Remember on the beach, in front of your grandparent’s house, we, uh, we agreed that we would never, never date each other’s girl. And I remember the day you told me that you liked Stacy Miller, that you were gonna ask her out and I said, ‘Woah! Hey, man, you can’t! Her and I already did it.’” You’ve put your pen down, paying all your attention to him. “But we didn’t. I wanted to, but she… liked you more than she liked me and — so I lied to you because I was so jealous and I’m carrying around this- this lie in my heart for the last twenty—”

“Stop it,” you throw a book at him. He stares at you. “Stop it. Stay focused,” you tap on the side of your head forcefully. “Do what you promised me.”

“What, you think I’m…”

“Do what you promised me.”

“You think I’m gonna let you down now.” He stands up, pointing a finger at you, accusingly. “I’ve known you my whole DAMN LIFE! Okay.” He taps on the papers you’re signing, “This, this! This is not something you do every day. Okay. This, this…” he waves his hands towards you, “is not easy for me. I’ll make sure everything goes to plan,” he wipes the tear that fell from his eye, shaking his head in disbelief. “Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” You can’t bring yourself to look at him as he cries, not wanting to cry yourself. “Thank you.”

You’ve managed to avoid Alessia for three days after that night at the beach. You didn’t do much, spent most of it in your room. 

Sat on a chair you placed in front of the tank, you watched them float through the water. They somehow give you peace with how they move, almost innocently, something you’re quite sure you don’t have anymore. The sound of your phone ringing brings you out of your thoughts. Hesitantly rising from your seat, you trudge to where your phone is, answering and holding it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

You hear someone take a deep breath. “Y/N?” The person sighs, “Hi. I’m sorry I called so late.”

“Alessia? Um, did-are you okay?”

“Uh, I was- I was having trouble breathing after going for a walk. And I fainted,” your eyebrows shot up in concern, “an ambulance had to come and take me to the hospital.” She takes a couple of breaths. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I called you and I just-I wanted to — Y/N? You still there?”

You lock the door, walking out of the motel. “Yes.”

“Do you ever think about dying, Y/N?”

“Every now and again.” You answer, walking on the sidewalk.

“My face is, um, blue-ish. It’s not exactly a good sign.”

“You should try to rest. Just-why don't you try and get some sleep?”

“I like talking to you.”

“I like talking to you too.”

“Would you tell me a story?” You look around, contemplating whether you should. “Please.”

“Okay, um, alright. Once upon a time, there was a, uh, little girl named—”

��—Lucky me. I just got it on reserve like that, okay.” You hear the rustling of sheets through the phone. “Let me guess, her name is Y/N?”

You chuckle. “No, actually, this little girl’s name is Jane.”

“I like the name Jane. Go on.”

“Jane’s little sister was always pestering Jane to make paper airplanes ‘cause she’s, you know, good at it,” you shrug. “But Jane had much bigger dreams than making paper airplanes.”

“‘Kay. Then what happened?”

“Then one day Jane went out to the backyard, put leaves and taped branches to her arms and started climbing the big ol’ tree. Her little sister said ‘Jane! You can’t fly!’ She said, ‘Yeah? You just watch!’” You couldn’t see, but Alessia had a smile on her face. “Got all the way to the top, and jumped.”

Alessia’s eyebrows furrowed. “How… tall was this tree?”

“Um, it was pretty tall. She broke her arm.”

“Oh-oh, my god! This is a horrible story.”

“Well, no, no. It gets better. Um, from that experience, Jane realized that she wanted to fly. So she dedicated her life to making spaceships.” The sounds of the city can be heard in the background, but you just keep walking and talking. 

“I thought you said this was a good story?”

“Oh, well, yeah that is,” you stutter, not expecting to be called out. “Until the-the dragon showed up.”

“Oh, okay. I see. Now it’s getting better. I like dragons, especially dragons in space.” You can hear her voice fading.

“Yeah, these were fire-breathing, space dragons with really bad attitudes.”

“I see.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you try to fall asleep and when you do, I’ll just hang up.” You suggest.

“M’kay. Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for listening. And for talking.”

You don’t say anything for a while. “Try to fall asleep.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Alessia.” Phone still pressed up to your ear, you walk through the automatic doors. “Alessia?” Not getting a response, you keep walking until you reach the room. “Alessia?” you ask again. Looking through the window, you see her, lying on her side on the hospital bed, asleep. 

You hang up the phone and just watch her for a moment. She looks peaceful.

Stepping inside her room, you stand by her bedside, eyes scanning over her face, almost like you were trying to memorize them. You drag a chair to where you stood, sitting in it, never taking your eyes off of her.

The next morning, Alessia’s eyes flutter open. The sunlight peaking through the window blinds shines in her face. Pushing herself to sit up, she looks around the room, a bit startled, she sees a figure by her side, sitting — slouching — on a chair.

“Y/N,” she said softly, hoping to wake you up, but with no luck. She tries again a bit louder, that doing the trick.

You jolt awake, the loud call of your name pulling you out of restless sleep. Your neck protests, stiff from hours spent slumped in the uncomfortable hospital chair, and for a moment, you’re disoriented— caught between your dreams to the blinding fluorescent lights overhead. 

You hear your name again, a bit weak but certain.

Your eyes snap to the bed next to you.

She’s awake.

You stand abruptly, moving closer to her bedside.

“You’re awake,” You whisper as if saying it aloud would make it not real.

“Yeah and you drool in your sleep,” you bring your hand up to wipe at the corner of your lips. Seeing a teasing smile on Alessia’s face makes a chuckle come out of you. 

“You’re an ass.”

“Hey!” She reaches out to swat at you. “Don’t call the sick names.”

“Oh, I apologize, my queen,” you give her a mock bow.

Shortly after your banter, the door opens, and a doctor walks into the room.

“Good morning!” the doctor was overly cheery in your opinion. “How are you feeling Alessia?”

“I’m as good as I can be.”

“Well, I’ve got some news. As we’ve briefly talked about last night, your heart isn’t getting better,” your jaw tightens. “That being said, UNOS has you at the top of their list.”

Alessia froze, not believing the words coming out of the doctor’s mouth. “What?” she asked in disbelief.

“The first heart available is yours.” She was emotional, understandably so. She hands something to Alessia. “This is a pager. When a heart becomes available, this will go off and you take yourself back here.” The doctor decides to give her some space to process everything, you following her out the door.

“How long does it usually take?” you ask once the door clicks shut. “How long does it take for a heart to become available?”

“It honestly is hard to say because it just depends. We can’t just take a heart from anyone.”

“How long do you think she has until her heart completely shuts down?”

“That’s also hard to say, but I’d give it a couple of weeks.” She sees the look of defeat on your face, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Just have some faith.” You nod, thanking her, and step back into the room.

Alessia was looking into the distance still trying to process the doctor’s words. You place yourself next to the bed, not saying a word, offering some silent support. She gently grabs your hand, startling you from the contact, giving it a light squeeze. You squeeze her hand back, communicating without words. She pulls you closer, resting her forehead to the back of your hand, wanting to feel closer to you.

You walk through the lobby of your motel. The manager trailing you again, asking why you’ve now got a bag full of small fish. You tune him out like always, closing the door on his face.

Popping the top of the tank off, you rip open the bag, pouring the contents in. You sit on your bed, watching the fish swim around. The fish run into the tentacles, dying almost instantly. You don’t flinch, just curious about the fee—

The next morning, you’re picking Alessia up to go home, her having to stay another night for observation. The same doctor from yesterday escorted you both out, pushing the wheelchair Alessia was on. She gets in the passenger seat, you reach in the put her seatbelt on for her.

The drive to Alessia’s house was silent, but not uncomfortable. As you pull in front of her house, she breaks the silence.

“Have you- have you ever been in love?” 

You swear your heart stopped. “Alessia, please,” you say, almost pleading.

“You have!” her tone teasing. You didn’t answer. “Yes, you have. C’mon, you can tell me.”

“Um, yes. But it ended.”

“What happened?”

“Stop it.”

“No, tell me.”

“Stop it!” your voice raised. “Get inside. You need to get some rest. Maybe sleep.”

She hastily takes her seatbelt off, practically jumping out of the car. 

“Alessia, hold on.” 

“Just leave.”

“Alessia!” You get out too, chasing after her.

You’re both standing in front of her door staring at each other.

“Thank you for everything.”

You go back in your car, hands grasping at the wheel, and then you scream. You scream all your anger, all your pent-up feelings.

A few hours later, Alessia was making lunch when she sees movement outside of her kitchen window. There you were, pulling on weeds.

She goes up to you, questioning what you are doing.

“Is this your way of saying sorry?”

“No, I just, uh, saw these were getting overgrown, so decided to take a day off.”

She watches you work for a while longer before stopping you.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” she says, a hint of longing in her voice.

She leads you into the house to a room at the end of the hall. She unlocks the door, one you hadn’t really noticed before. When she pushes it open, you’re met with a room that isn’t like any other in the entire house. It’s not grand or overly decorated — if anything, it feels a bit hidden, almost like a personal secret she doesn’t show just anyone.

Inside, the walls are lined with framed jerseys, newspaper clippings, and photos capturing moments from her time at university. A glass cabinet holds an array of trophies and medals, each carefully placed yet slightly tucked away as if she doesn’t like to make too much of a fuss about them.

You step closer, eyes scanning the awards. There are championship medals and even a few personal accolades from her standout performances. One shelf holds a pair of worn-out boots, laces frayed, their soles bearing the marks of countless games.

“These were from my first goal in uni,” she explains, stepping around you and picking them up with a nostalgic smile. “I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out.”

You watch as she moves through the room, her fingers grazing over the items, each one holding a story she remembers like it was yesterday. There’s a quiet pride in her voice—not boastful, just appreciative of the journey she’s been on.

“You don’t show this room to everyone, do you?” you ask softly.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Not really. I don’t like to dwell too much on the past, but… sometimes it’s nice to remember where it all started.”

You take another look around, imagining the countless hours of training, the sacrifices, the triumphs. Seeing it all in one place, tucked away in this private corner of her home, makes you appreciate her journey even more.

As you turn back to her, she’s already watching you, a curious look in her blue eyes. “So, what do you think?”

You smile. “I think you are incredible. And I think you should be really proud.”

She exhales, almost as if she needed to hear that. You see a pink hue forming on her cheeks but don’t pay them any mind.

“Look,” she pauses, trying to find the right words. “I don’t really know anything about you or where you came from, but you keep showing up. And I’m glad.”

“Okay.” you nod, looking at her.

Then, with a playful nudge, she says, “Come on, you hungry? I’ve got lunch ready.”

You pause by the door, looking around for a while longer. Thoughts of what more she could’ve achieved if it weren’t for her heart filled your mind. It shouldn’t have ended like this. You walk out, closing the door behind you.

It’s been a week since then. You and Alessia grew a lot closer, but the memories of the accident become more frequent when you sleep. Or at least when you do get to sleep. You knew your time was ticking. 

You’re limping to your room, bracing yourself against the wall.

“What the hell happened to you?” The manager asks as you walk past, but you ignore him. “How much longer are you gonna stay in my hotel?”

“Motel,” you correct him.

“How much longer?”

“Actually, I was planning on dying here,” you say, no amusement in her voice.

“Well, you need to pay in advance.” You block him out, shutting your room door.

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. You search under the piles of paper scattered on the bed for it. You answer once you find it, holding it up to your ear.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s Alessia. Are you- are you sleeping?”

“Yeah, uh, no. I’m, um, how are you?”

“I’m good. Was wondering if you were busy later? Come by to say ‘hi’ say around seven?”

“Busy? Uh—”

“Look, I totally get if you don’t want to hang out with a dying girl,” she gets out.

“No, no. I- I can come at seven.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye,” she whispers, a smile forming on her lips.

At seven on the dot, you’re at her front door. You knock, the door opening shortly after. 

“Hey! Come in.” She shuffles away towards the kitchen. “Do you mind if we eat outside?” she asks over. 

“Eating?” you ask, not expecting it.

“Yeah, you didn’t eat yet did you?” you can hear in her tone that she was worried you did.

“No, um, um. No.”

“Well, it was a surprise, but you’re on time.” She’s getting a dish out of the oven, placing it on top of the stove. “Um, I haven’t cooked anybody food in a while, so I hope you like it. Don’t lie to me.” She lets out a nervous giggle. She then grabs a present, wrapped neatly with a bow on top, holding it out to you. “This is for you.”

“Dinner’s ready and you’re not,” she walks away, holding the dish, “so hurry up. Chop chop.”

You go into her bedroom, stopping by the wall to look at all the pictures that lined it. Seeing Alessia setting a table outside, you open up the present, seeing a shirt. You quickly get dressed, walking out to the backyard. She’s sitting at the table as you stand in the doorway, gesturing towards the shirt you changed into.

“You look great,” she says, giving you a wide smile.

“Yeah, uh,” you look down at yourself, “it’s pink.”

“It’s salmon,” she says like it’s obvious. She waves her hand for you to come. You walk up to stand next to the table. Taking your time, you take it all in.

“You’re so nice.”

“So are you.” You take a seat, a bit uncomfortable with how intimate it all looks; candles, wine. “Everything is vegetarian. Um, I hope you like eggplant parmesan.” 

You fidget in your seat, not really knowing what to do. “I, uh, haven’t treated myself very well in the past few years.”

Alessia nods in acknowledgment. “Start now.” You grab your silverware, “Bon appétit.” You take a bite, pausing at the flavors. “What do you think?”

You look towards her with sincerity, “it’s delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

The conversation started flowing easier after a bit. The awkwardness going away. Soft music fills the air around them. The song changes and Alessia perks up. She gets up towards the speaker, turning the volume up. She starts swaying to the music, getting lost in the melody. You sit back and just watch her. You couldn’t look away, mesmerized by how she moved, how happy she looked. 

She then turns to you, a teasing smile on her face, holding her hand out to you.

“Oh, no. I can’t— I don’t dance.”

“Come on. Let loose.” She grabs your hand in hers, pulling you up and you know you didn’t have a choice. She pulls you close, placing one of your hovering hands in hers, the other on her side. The music changes to a slower song. You start swaying, trying not to be stiff. Her head rests against your chest. You hope she couldn’t feel the way your heartbeat starts to speed up — she does but doesn’t say anything. She pulls her head away after a few moments.

The air between you crackles, thick with something unspoken but impossible to ignore. You’re standing too close, your breaths mingling in the charged silence. Their eyes flick to your lips, just for a second, and your pulse stutters.

A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. You turn your head slightly, hoping she won’t see, but of course, she does. Her fingers, gentle and unsure, brush against your jaw, tilting your face back toward her.

“Hey,” she murmurs, searching your eyes. Her concern only makes the ache in your chest tighten.

You don’t know why this moment — why she — breaks you open like this. Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at you like you’re something fragile but worth holding. Maybe it’s the way she’s here, close enough to touch, even when everything in you tells you to pull away.

But you don’t pull away. You do the opposite.

With a shaky breath, you reach for her, grabbing the back of her neck. Her lips parted slightly in surprise as you closed the distance, pressing your mouth to hers. It starts slow, tentative, but the second she kisses you back, something in you snaps.

You pour everything into it—every unsaid word, every suppressed feeling, every ache that’s been sitting heavy in your chest. She meets you with the same urgency, her hands threading through your hair, pulling you closer. The heat between you builds, wiping away everything else — the pain, the doubt.

You feel her hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingertips skimming your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You exhale against her lips, a soft, needy sound escaping before you can stop it.

Then you’re moving, tangled together, finding the bed without ever breaking apart. Clothes fall away, but it’s more than just hunger now. It’s desperation, longing, a need to feel — to be seen, to be held, to be hers.

For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you’re falling apart. You feel free.

Legs tangled under the sheets, you both hold each other close, the rain can be heard pouring just outside.

“Do you wanna play a game?” she asks, voice soft, not wanting to break the calm atmosphere.

“What game?” your fingers trace the features of her face.

“What if game.”

“The what if game.”

“Mhm.” Her fingers caress your face. “What if… my pager goes off… and it’s a heart and it works and my body doesn’t reject it. And what if I have time.”

You’ve become a bit speechless, but after a few beats, it was your turn.

“What if… we have children? What if we got married?” You can see tears forming in her eyes, threatening to fall. She kisses your shoulder, trying to hold back a sob. The tears finally fall and you hold her close. “I love you,” you mumble. She pulls away from your neck, hand grabbing your face to pull you in. “I love you,” you say it stronger. She kisses you.

She falls asleep in the comfort of your arms. You lay on your side, head propped up on your hand as you watch her, watch how peaceful she looked.

You carefully slip out from under her, making sure to not wake her up. Quietly getting dressed, you look at her once more. Everything you’ve bottled up with her slowly hitting you one by one. Leaning down, you give her forehead a gentle kiss, before slipping out.  

You run.

The rain pours down, drenching your clothes, but you don’t care. Your breath is ragged, your footsteps heavy, your body pushing forward as if fueled with determination alone. Your soaked shirt clings to your chest, water splashing with each step.

You push the heavy hospital door open, breathing heavily, steps filled with a purpose.

“Alright,” you reach the nurse’s stations “Is Doctor Briar on- on duty tonight?” you ask, out of breath.

“She’s… doing her rounds,” the nurse looks at you in concern.

“Can you tell her it’s Y/N Y/LN? It’s very important.”

“I’ll, uh, page her.” The nurse picks up the phone, paging the doctor, eyes not straying away from you.

You were close to hysterics, thinking that you didn’t have enough time. You turn around, find a chair, and take a seat, still breathing heavily. Hearing a door open, you turn your head to the right, seeing the doctor walking towards you. Getting up, you meet her halfway.

“Hey.”

“Is it Alessia?” she asks, concern in her voice.

“Uh, no. No. I’m sorry. Is there- sorry.” You try to find the right words. “Do you have any more- any optimism about Ales- Alessia that you did the other day?”

“When- when you’re looking for donors with a rare blood type,” you nod, listening intently. Eyes bloodshot. “the odds go way down.”

“To what? They go down. What’s- give me a percentage.” The doctor’s reluctance to answer makes you raise your voice. “Give me a number.”

“Three, five percent.” You put your hand up, not wanting to hear anything else. “I’m sorry. I- I wish the numbers were higher.”

“Thank you.” you walk past her. “Thank you, thank you,” you’re mumbling, walking out of the hospital.

The rain pours heavily on you, but you don’t think about it. Pulling your phone out from your pocket, you quickly dial a number.

“Hey,” you whisper once the person picks up. “It’s time. I love you,” your voice breaks. You hang up, not giving him a chance to reply.

Stepping into your room, you pause by the door. 

You stand in the dim motel bathroom, the weight of your decision pressing against your chest like an iron vice. The letters were written, and your affairs are in order. You have spent almost a year preparing for this moment.

You twist the bathtub knob, water rushing in as you slit open the bag of ice. The ice tumbles into the tub, the chill spreading as you check the time on your watch, carefully placed on the edge. Hurriedly, you jot down a note and set it on the floor beside the tub.

The hotel phone feels cold in your hand, dialing the dreaded number.

“999 emergency.”

You’re breathing hard, the weight of everything heavy on your shoulders.

“I need an ambulance,” you run your hand down your face.

“I have you at 9216 Street.”

“That’s room number two.”

“What’s the emergency?”

“There’s been a suicide,” you sigh.

“Who’s the victim?”

“I am.”

“You are really gonna need to stop looking at that thing,” you let out a laugh, looking over to the person in the passenger seat, driving the both of you to somewhere special.

“Why? Is it gonna crack?” The woman is holding her hand out in front of her, admiring the ring that sits on her finger.

“Oh no. I paid extra for the non-cracking kind.”

“Yeah, I bet you did.”

A notification from your phone pulls your attention from her. Taking it out of your pocket, you read the text, occasionally looking back at the road.

“Honey, why don’t you just turn that off?”

“Yeah, hold on. Sorry, no more. No more work, I’m almost done, almost done.”

“Y/N!”

You don’t expect it, hearing tires screeching, horns blaring, her screaming. You swerve, narrowly missing the car, but there is another one. It hits head-on to your passenger side.

You’re flipping.

Flipping.

Flipping.

Then everything stops.

Bracing yourself against the wall, you step into the water, fully clothed. The water, ice cold, makes your breathing unsteady. Now sitting, you grab the edge of the tub, hands turning white with how hard you’re gripping.

Your mind drifts back to Alessia, how beautiful she looked lying next to you in bed. How warm her hand felt as she rested it on the side of your face.

You grab the bucket filled with the jellyfish that was placed on the foot of the tub, quickly dumping them in the water before you have second thoughts.

Then you feel it.

A searing pain explodes across your body as the tentacles wrap around your arm, your chest. It is fire and ice all at once, electricity surging through your veins. Your muscles seize, your breath catches, but you don’t fight it. You let it take you. 

You bite your tongue, holding a scream in. You grab the shower curtain, pulling so hard that you rip it off. The scream you try to hold in can’t be contained.

You’re running. 

You don’t know where to, but once you’ve pulled yourself out of the car, you run, climbing up the steep hill you fell into.

You clutch onto the curtain, the pain becoming unbearable, hyperventilating. 

You see the aftermath of the crash, freezing in disbelief.

Hugging the side of the tub, you let out another scream.

You’re running, seeing something in the distance. A flash of red.

Red.

The color of her dress.

Fully submerged in the water now, your energy draining. 

You stop next to a body, crouching down with your hands out. Legs giving out, you slowly crawl up to her.

Everything feels numb. The pain doesn’t feel painful anymore.

“No. No no no.” Your voice cracks, hands hovering, afraid to touch her. “Baby, wake up.”

Your fingers brush her cheek — still warm. A flicker of hope flares in your chest. You press your palm to her face, stroking the cheek that you’ve kissed a thousand times. “Come on, look at me. Open your eyes.”

But she doesn’t.

A strangled sob tears from your throat as you gather her into your arms, cradling her against yourself, rocking back and forth. Leaning down, you press your forehead against hers, body shaking with grief, mind clinging to denial, as if you hold her tight enough, love her hard enough, that she’ll take a breath, that her eyes would open and everything would be alright. 

But she doesn’t.

A sigh of relief escapes you.

Your vision blurs. The walls of the motel bathroom fade. The sound of your own heartbeat roars in your ears then softens, then slows. The pain becomes distant, then almost peaceful.

Then — nothing.

The sound of the heart monitor fills the room. Doctors and nurses surround the bed, doing everything they can.

But they couldn’t.

Beeps wake Alessia from her deep sleep. Her eyes shot open, narrowing on the pager that sat on her bedside table. She’s in disbelief, grabbing the pager making sure she wasn’t dreaming. She looks around, trying to ground herself.

“Y/N?” she sits up, excitement in her voice.

Next thing she knows, she’s laid in a hospital bed being rolled into the operating room. 

“Hi. How are you doing?” The doctor greets Alessia, ensuring her that this is real. She doesn’t say anything, still in a state of shock.

Your friend breaks down in his office, not wanting to believe his best friend is gone.

Alessia’s new heart beats strongly in her chest, still unknowing of where it came from.

Your brother sat on a chair in your motel room, finding your newspaper clippings pinned on the wall, all about the accident. He never understood why you shut down, why you distanced yourself.

Now he does.

He held a stack of envelopes, each with a different name, the same names that he found in a list in your notebook.

“About a year after the accident, I got sick. I got, uh, lung cancer. I needed a double lobe transplant. Y/N could only give me one of course.” Your brother, Sam, sat at the table, Alessia sitting across from him. “That must’ve planted the seed cause six months later she, uh, donated the right part of her liver to this woman.” He gives her a picture, you stood next to a woman in a hospital bed, smiling widely. “Her name is Holly.” She brushes her thumb over your face, tears now streaming down her face. 

Once Sam had left, she opens an envelope, pulling the paper out. 

My Dearest Alessia,

By the time you read this, I will be gone. I wish I could have had more time, more moments, more laughter, more mornings waking up to the sound of your breathing. But time isn’t something I deserve anymore.

I have carried the weight of my past, every mistake, every regret, and every life I have shattered with me. No matter how much I have tried to let go of my past, that night still haunts me. You once told me that love has the power to heal, but Alessia, some wounds run too deep. Some burdens cannot be lifted. Not even by the hands of someone as beautiful as you.

I have spent my days trying to make up for the lives I took, giving away pieces of myself in the hope that it would bring back the ones I lost. And now, I am giving you the last piece I have left. Not because I feel I owe it, but because you deserve life. A full one. A long one. A life without fear, without hesitation, without the pain that has held you captive for too long.

I have seen the way you look at the stars as if you are searching for something, some hope, some sign that things will be okay. I hope that after tonight, you will look up and know that you were loved. That you changed me. That you gave me something I never thought I’d have again. Peace.

Please live, Alessia. Live enough for the both of us. And if you ever feel the darkness creeping in, remember me not in sadness, but in love. In every heartbeat. In every breath.

Forever yours,

Y/N

She clutches the letter to her chest, legs giving out from under her.

Later that night, Alessia lays in the bathtub, feeling numb as the water surrounds her. Slowly, she sinks under the water, stopping for a moment once her ears are under just to hear it.

Lub-dub.

Lub-dub.

Lub-dub.

She places her hand over her heart to feel the beats momentarily before fully sinking under.

Alessia’s hands trembled as she stepped into the small music shop. The warm notes of the piano fill the air. She scanned the room, her breath caught between anticipation and fear.

Then she saw him.

A man sat in the corner, watching the pianist play their songs. His expression was calm, and peaceful, as if everything was right with the world.

Her heart pounded as she stepped closer. He turned to her, sensing her presence. 

“Hi,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ezra smiled. “Hi.” His head tilted slightly as if reading her silence. “Can I help you with something?”

She opened her mouth to speak but the words failed her. Instead, her gaze locked onto his eyes—warm, deep brown, achingly familiar.

Your eyes.

Her breath hitched. A sharp, unrelenting ache surged through her chest. It was as if he was standing in front of her, looking at her, seeing her.

She tried to hold it together, but the tears came fast, unbidden. A sob escaped her throat before she could stop it. She covered her mouth, shaking, overwhelmed by grief and love crashing into her all at once.

Ezra frowned, concern washing over his face. “Are you okay?”

Alessia forced a nod, wiping her cheeks. “I just—” she swallowed hard. “You have beautiful eyes.”

A small, knowing smile flickered across Ezra’s lips, as if he understood more than she had said. “Thank you.”

Her chest tightened. She could barely breathe, but she could feel you, right there in front of her. And for the first time since you were gone, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run from the pain or hold onto it forever.

She was back.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Alessia stood on the edge of the penalty box, her heart pounding — not from fear, not from exhaustion, but from the pure, electrifying thrill of the game. The England shirt clung to her, damp with sweat and the weight of everything she had been through settled in her chest. But it wasn’t heavy. It was powerful.

The ball came to her feet—a perfect pass, spinning toward her as if fate itself had lined it up. For a split second, everything else disappeared. The surgeries, the hospital beds, the whispers about whether she’d ever play again. The months of grueling rehab, the moments of doubt.

None of it mattered now.

With one touch, she controlled the ball, took a deep breath, and struck it cleanly. Time slowed as it soared through the air, past outstretched hands, and into the back of the net.

Goal.

The stadium erupted. Her teammates swarmed her, wrapping her in tight embraces, their voices became a blur against the roaring of thousands. But Alessia barely heard them. She staggered backward, hands trembling, sinking to her knees as the weight of everything came crashing down. 

She choked back a sob, looking up at the sky, wishing — hoping — that somewhere, wherever you may be, that you could see her now. Pressing a hand over her heart, she felt it beat strongly.

Thank you.

Her teammates pulled her up, holding her as she sobbed. As the final whistle blew, a new wave of emotion hit her. She closed her eyes, tilting her head up to the sky once more. She swore she could hear your voice.

“I am so proud of you.”

[kangnoeulsdoll]

Lend me a hand.

Kang No-eul x fem!reader

ִ ˚｡‧ ୨୧ ‧ ˚ ♡

synopsis: you make a post on rednote asking people to send hand pics and one in particular stands out <33

a/n: this is literally inspired by a TikTok post I saw on TikTok abt asking rednote girls to post their hand pics to I wrote abt it :3

warnings: suggestive!!! ^_^

You’re lying in bed, half-draped in your sheets, scrolling through Rednote with lazy amusement. Tonight the timeline is a real trainwreck—thirst traps, midnight confessions, and way too many purse-rattling, blurry mirror selfies. Nothing new. Nothing interesting. Just the usual blend of chaos and thirst, a digital void where people throw out their most reckless thoughts and hope someone bites.

Your thumb rests on the record key and without much deliberation, you push it down.

"Alright, I’m just gonna say it—hands are hot. Like, good hands? Nice veins, rings, long fingers? Yeah. If you have them, drop the proof below. Do the right thing."

You smirk at the camera before stopping the recording. The caption practically writes itself:

“Hand lovers, rise up. Don’t disappoint me.”

With a swipe of the finger, you share and drop your phone on the bed. It’s not that deep. Just a few minutes of distraction, maybe a good chuckle, maybe, someone quite rare actually flourishes.

But you don’t expect anything serious.

Certainly not what happens next.

The next time you glance at your inbox five minutes later your stomach somersaults just watching an email.

One reply stands out among the sea of comments.

@noxx: I got you.

Your heart stutters. Your skin prickles.

Attached is a photo.

You hesitate, pulse hammering as you tap on it.

As soon as it loads, all the breath is gone from your trachea.

No-eul’s hand.

Lying casually on a dark background, effortless—as if she just snapped the picture without thinking. However, it is the fine details that make your thighs to be squashed.

The faint veins tracing over her knuckles. The long fingers, elegant and deceptively relaxed. The harsh opposite of her black-lacquered nails ontop of her flesh, broken just enough to ruin you. The rings—silver, a little worn, snug on her fingers, the kind that would feel heavy if they ghosted over your skin.

Your mouth goes dry.

Oh.

You shift on your bed, pressing your thighs together, trying not to let a damn picture of her hand affect you like this—but it’s already too late.

Another notification pops up, making your stomach lurch.

A DM.

Noxx: Did I pass?

You inhale sharply, fingers hesitating over the keyboard.

Your body is already betraying you—too warm, too aware, too restless.

You: Are you trying to kill me?

The typing bubble appears.

Noxx: Depends. Is it working?

Heat licks at your skin.

You bite your lip, acutely aware of how you lie there, forgotten, dreaming about her hands in a way that, frankly, they really shouldn't both excite bore you.

You: You should be arrested for this.

Noxx: For what? Sending a picture?

Your breathing is now shallow, your body is stiff enough that the task is too trivial. But it’s not simple at all, is it?

Because she knows.

She knows.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you type.

You: For knowing exactly what you’re doing.

A pause.

Noxx: Oh? And what exactly am I doing?

Your stomach tightens.

Your thighs press together harder, frustration mounting because she’s baiting you, and it’s working. She wants you to say it, to admit it.

And God, you want to.

You hesitate.

You: You’re making it hard to think straight.

A longer pause this time.

Noxx: Interesting choice of words.

You swallow hard.

You should walk away from this. You should avoid her and pretend that one and only photograph did just pull everything apart.

But—

Another message.

Noxx: Should I send another? Maybe a video this time?

Your breath catches.

Your body reacts before your brain does, heat curling low in your stomach at just the thought of seeing those hands move.

For a second, you stall (long enough to think about turning away from the cliff's drop), but your fingers are already flying across the keyboard.

You: Show me.

The very second you click the "send", you swear you lose the ability to breathe.

The typing bubble appears. Then disappears.

Your pulse is a thunderous rhythm in your ears.

Then, finally—

A new message pops up.

Noxx: Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Attachment: Video

You hesitate, fingers trembling as you press play.

The screen opens to her hand—slow, deliberate movements as her fingers flex and curl, stretching in a way that feels way too intentional. The lighting is moody, casting sharp shadows that emphasize every detail—the veins, the tendons shifting beneath her skin, the glint of silver rings catching the light.

A your breath comes to a standstill, she pulls her thumb across her palm in a slow, teasing caress, a motion that is threatening.

Then, the audio kicks in.

A soft, amused hum. Low, rich, dangerous.

"That flustered already?"

Your stomach drops.

Your entire body burns.

Sudden feeling of warm current races through your body and hips close to each other while tremor runs up your back.

Oh. Oh.

You were not prepared for this.

Your fingers shake and you struggle to type a response.

You: You’re actually evil.

The typing bubble appears immediately.

Noxx: And yet, you’re still watching.

You suck in a sharp breath, pulse hammering.

Because she’s right.

And you have a very big problem.

<33

[yvesssssssss]

HEAR ME OUT!!! Natsuki, shin, and Nagumo with a reader who’s just constantly plotting—and I mean PLOTTING. Like even in the most mundane situation they think about how every action could affect an outcome as if life were just a game of chess to them. Every move they make is planned and coordinated when it comes to daily life. A little hint of silliness perhaps 😼😼

Sakamoto days men with a 4D-chess brain reader

Natsuki seba

Natsuki stares blankly at the grocery cart.

"…You arranged the snacks by expiration date?"

You push up imaginary glasses. "If we consume the shortest lifespan items first, we’ll reduce food waste and maximize freshness. Obviously."

He blinks. "You color-coded them by brand too."

"To subtly influence your mood. Blue brands calm you. Red gets you hyped. I need you calm when we hit checkout—so you don’t accidentally get in a duel with the barcode scanner again."

Natsuki opens his mouth to argue, but stops. He does feel weirdly relaxed. “…What else did you do?”

You lean in with a grin. “I positioned a crying baby two aisles away to mask the sound of me opening a bag of chips early.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m thriving.”

Shin asakura

Shin tries so hard. He really does.

You’re both at a cafe, and he’s halfway through sipping his drink when he hears: “Move your cup three inches left. Now.”

“…Why?”

“The glare from the sunlight reflects off the ice, into the barista’s eyes. In seven seconds, she’ll miss the milk pitcher, spill it, and I’ll use the distraction to sneak an extra muffin onto our order tray.”

“…Why not just ask for a muffin?”

“Too obvious. This is the long game, Shin. The muffin must be earned.”

He grips his temples. “You plotted a muffin heist using optics and physics.”

“And the barista’s mild sleep deprivation. I did my research.”

“…I’m both impressed and mildly terrified.”

Nagumo yoichi

Nagumo catches on quick, but that just makes things worse.

You're laying out your socks in a specific left-right, color-coded pattern when he leans over your shoulder. “What’s this? Planning a heist or just doing laundry?”

You smirk. “Both. Sock arrangement dictates how the laundry load interacts with the spin cycle. I’m using centrifugal force to rotate the inner pocket of my hoodie—where I stored a flash drive—to a less detectable location.”

He pauses. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You glance at him. “Don’t distract me. If I mistime the rinse cycle by three seconds, the entire operation fails.”

Nagumo throws his arm around your shoulder and grins. “You know what this means, right? You and me? We could take over the world. Or at least the laundromat.”

“Oh, I already have. I bribed Mrs. Tanaka in Unit 3 to let me run the machine on Sundays. She's the linchpin.”

Nagumo just laughs. “I love you. But also I’m scared of you.”

“Good. That’s part of the plan.”

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