#i kind of expected this though so it's fine

[blackenedsnow]

helloooooo, your writing is amazingggggg and i was hoping it would be okay if i requested a shadowww x reader. Where Maybe sonic ask shadow to bring medicine to you (to try and introduce you to shadow as your sick with something or have a major injury, etc). Shadow prehaps is annoyed but agrees anyways, then however when he meets you sees maria in you. Then veryday to be sure you get better shows up in the morning to help take care of you, and slowly the two become friends then prehaps at the end share a kiss and become lovers? Idk it sounded cute in my head lol.

familiar

WARNING: Illness

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Sick! Reader

NOTE: This is such a cute request and I'm pretty proud of this! Sending you all the love, and I hope this brightens your day a little! Take care of yourself <333

SUMMARY: Shadow reluctantly delivers medicine to you at Sonic’s insistence, but upon meeting you, he’s struck by a haunting familiarity.

It was late afternoon when Shadow approached the house tucked away at the edge of the city, a small bag of medicine clutched in his gloved hand. The only reason he was here, he reminded himself, was because Sonic had all but begged him to.

“Come on, Shadow,” Sonic had said earlier, exasperated but hopeful. “They’re too sick to go anywhere, and I’m tied up with something. Just drop it off and say hi. You might even like them!”

Shadow had scoffed at that. “Highly unlikely.”

Yet here he was, standing at your door. He knocked, sharp and deliberate, and waited.

A muffled voice from inside called, “Coming!”

The door creaked open, revealing you. Despite the exhaustion evident in your eyes and the pallor of your complexion, you greeted him with a weak but genuine smile.

“Oh, you must be… Shadow?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded curtly, holding out the medicine. “Sonic sent me. He thought you might need this.”

You accepted the bag with a quiet “thank you,” looking up at him with an expression so open, so trusting, that it stopped him in his tracks. For a fleeting moment, he was no longer standing at your doorstep but aboard the ARK, looking into the kind eyes of someone he thought he’d lost forever.

Maria.

The resemblance wasn’t physical, but there was something about your demeanor—gentle, unassuming, and kind despite the pain you were clearly in—that tugged at a memory buried deep in his chest.

“You okay?” you asked, noticing his prolonged silence.

He blinked, snapping himself out of the moment. “Fine. Just… don’t forget to take the medicine.”

You chuckled lightly, the sound hoarse but pleasant. “I won’t. Thanks again, Shadow.”

He nodded again, turning on his heel and disappearing into the fading daylight.

To Shadow’s own surprise, he returned the next morning.

It had been a restless night. Thoughts of Maria swirled in his mind, but they mingled with the image of your weary yet kind face. He told himself he was simply being thorough, ensuring you were following the instructions for the medication.

When you opened the door again, wrapped in a blanket and looking just as surprised as you were grateful, Shadow felt the smallest pang of relief.

“You’re back,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.

“You didn’t seem capable of taking care of yourself yesterday,” he replied bluntly, though there was no malice in his tone.

You laughed softly. “Fair enough.”

It became a routine. Every morning, Shadow arrived with something—soup, tea, a fresh supply of tissues—and checked on you. At first, his visits were brief and businesslike. He would make sure you had what you needed and leave with little more than a nod. But as the days passed, the conversations grew longer.

You learned to expect his dry wit and sharp observations, and he found himself oddly drawn to your quiet resilience. Despite how miserable you felt, you always thanked him sincerely, your gratitude genuine and unassuming.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you said one morning as he set a cup of tea on your bedside table.

“I know,” he replied simply, sitting in the chair he’d claimed as his own.

“Then why?”

He hesitated, his crimson eyes flicking to the floor. “You…” he paused, looking back at you with a sigh. “I don’t know.”

You didn’t press him, sensing the weight of his words, but your soft “Okay, thank you.” carried more meaning than either of you acknowledged.

By the time you were well enough to venture outside again, the bond between you and Shadow was undeniable.

“You don’t have to come by anymore,” you said one evening as he walked you back to your door after a short outing. “But… I’d miss you if you didn’t.”

He paused, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unspoken in his eyes, something vulnerable.

“I’d miss you too,” he admitted, the words slow but sincere.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened, and for the first time since you’d met him, Shadow looked genuinely flustered.

“Thank you, Shadow,” you whispered. “For everything.”

His lips quirked into the smallest of smiles, a rare and precious sight. “I... You’re welcome.”

And from that moment on, his visits were no longer about ensuring your recovery—they were about seeing you.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ Danny Phantom ~

If you need a hug, Danny will give you one.

———————

I wish I could wear a smile as easily as you do. There’s something about it—your smile—it lifts me up in ways I don’t fully understand.

Thank you for that.

But seriously, stop using that cold, irresistible charm of yours—it’s distracting, Danny.

———————

Atleast he gave me a cold hug. Because I needed one.

Colored sketches/drafts, whatever. Again. I am so lazy these days… depression hits hard.

———————

It’s late—far too late for anyone to be awake. But here I am, once again, sitting on the cold floor of my room, with my knees hugged to my chest. The dim glow of my cozy lights barely reaches the shadows stretching across the corners.

I don’t even know how he got here, but Danny is leaning against my doorframe, his face half-lit, half-lost in the gloom. His arms are crossed, but his usual lighthearted demeanor is gone. His glowing green eyes… they’re heavier than usual, like they’ve seen too much—carried too much.

“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice almost fragile, as though the words might shatter if spoken louder.

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

My throat feels tight, my chest heavier than the silence pressing down. Instead, I shake my head, my hair falling over my face like a curtain I don’t want to pull back.

Danny sighs, the kind of sigh that feels shared—like he knows exactly how I feel but doesn’t want to admit it. He steps into the room, his boots scuffing against the floor. Slowly, he lowers himself to sit beside me, his cold shoulder brushing against mine.

“I know how it feels,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “To… feel like everything’s too much. Like you’re carrying the weight of the world, even when it’s not yours to carry.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you disappear for days?” I glance at him, his expression flickering between guilt and understanding. “You don’t really have to be here, Danny. I’ll be fine. I’ll always be fine.”

But instead of answering, he reaches out, his gloved hand trailing against mine. It’s tentative, almost shy, but his cold seeps into my warm skin, grounding me in a way I didn’t expect.

“Stop that,” he murmurs. “Stop pretending you don’t need anyone. And stop pretending that you’re fine, because you aren’t.”

My breath shudders, and before I can stop myself, tears spill over, rolling silently down my cheeks. I hate crying in front of anyone. I hate that vulnerability, the exposure.

But Danny doesn’t look at me like I’m weak.

He just looks… sad.

For me.

For himself.

For whatever weight we’re both carrying.

Without a word, he pulls me into a hug. It’s awkward at first, like he’s not sure if I’ll push him away.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

His arms are strong, but there’s a hesitance to them, as if he’s afraid I might shatter in his grasp.

I don’t.

Instead, I fall into him, my head resting against his shoulder, his purr steady against my ear.

“You know I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Just remember that. I’ve been by your side as long as I can remember, even when you didn’t realize it,” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly. “But you have to let people in, instead of pushing them away. Just know you don’t have to do these things alone.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I’ve always been alone. That even when people care and I let them in, they leave anyway.

But his arms tighten around me, and the words crumble before they can leave my mouth. For once, I let myself believe him, even if it’s just for a moment.

The hug lingers, long after the tears stop falling. Neither of us speaks.

There’s no need to.

His presence says enough—he’s just here.

———————

My imagination is beyond otherwordly at this very moment.

[peachhcs]

we need more macklin fics and fluff bc that one was actually so cute. i need more asap 🩷

sorority formal

still debating if i should make a macklin au to add to my samy + will verse (HAHA my own fanfic verse??) but here’s some more fluff between the lovely rookie and his gf from santa clara university :) — also cleaning out my inbox so that’s why i’ve posted four times in a row LOL

also if this is bad i’m so sorry. i lowkey awkwardly switch between 2nd person and 3rd person pov sometimes so apologies for that. otherwise, i’m really starting to like writing about mack 😌 (slight allusion to sex but there’s no sex actually described just kissing)

masterlist

macklin had never been to a college sorority formal before, nor did he really understand what it was or what to expect, but he agreed to be your date nonetheless. plus, the look on your face was hard to say no to when you asked him two weeks ago.

the brunette was in his room trying to find the right suit to wear while will sat in the corner on his phone. he knew a little bit from when he was at boston, but he never found any interest in going to those frat and sorority parties, so the rookie was a bit in the dark when it came to this stuff.

will wasn’t much help either.

“i dunno man. i’ve never been to a sorority formal before. i assume it’s the same as any other formal? i’ve been to samy’s soccer banquet,” will shrugged, watching his friend try on his third suit.

“y/n said to just wear something neutral. her dress is pink i think,” macklin explained as he examined the dark navy suit in the mirror.

“i think that looks fine. navy and pink go well?” will nodded.

“i’m kind of nervous. is that bad? i don’t really know what to expect,” obviously, he didn’t want to make y/n look like a fool at her own sorority, so the boy’s nerves were at an all time high at the moment. what if he did something stupid?

“samy texted me back and she said it’s like prom but for college. there will be food and drinks and then you dance if you want. some sororities will do speeches or superlatives,” will read off the text his girlfriend just sent him.

“oh, okay. that’s not too bad then. i’ll be fine,” macklin assured himself and decided on the navy blue suit.

“yeah, it will be chill. you basically get to spend a whole night with your girlfriend,” will grinned and the brunette couldn’t help but smile at the thought. he hadn’t seen you in a few days because of your crazy busy schedules, so having this night to yourselves would be nice.

“yeah, you’re right. it will be chill and we’ll have fun,”macklin was basically saying positive affirmations to himself at this point which made will chuckle. he stood up to help his friend with his suit.

“don’t even sweat it, dude. she’s gonna love you,” the blonde assured and if will thought so, then macklin was gonna believe it.

once he was finished getting dressed, he grabbed his phone to let you know he was on his way over to your dorm. the boy rushed through the house, double checking his pockets that he had phone (check), keys (check), wallet (check), and a small bouquet he decided picking up for you because he knew you liked flowers.

“knock ‘em dead!” will called from the porch as macklin got into his car.

the brunette drove the short drive to the university. being new to driving in the states still and the nerves about tonight made his hands a bit shaky as he turned onto the drive that led to your dorm. he didn’t need to sweat this. it was you. y/n. his girlfriend. there was no reason for him to be nervous about some sorority formal.

he parked in the lot and climbed out, doing a third check that he had all of his belongings. you were waiting in the lobby for him after getting his text about being on his way. the hockey player stopped in his tracks though when he laid eyes on you.

your strapless, silky dress stopped around your ankles where he could see your pretty white heels. your hair was down like it usual was and macklin was pretty sure his pupils turned to hearts.

“hi,” you grinned when he got closer.

“hi..wow..you look..” the boy lost his words making you laugh.

“you look pretty..wow,” you complimented his navy suit.

“s-so do you. wow..i..i’m in awe,” he admitted earning a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re sweet. are these for me?” you noticed the bouquet wobbling in his hands. the brunette quickly flushed and handed them over to you.

“yes, sorry. they are.”

you admired the pretty pink and red petals, “thank you. these are pretty. wanna come up for a second so i can put them in water?” it wasn’t really a question because macklin was going to follow you regardless.

the two of you stepped into the elevator. mack’s nerves were now because of how beautiful you looked beside him and he didn’t know how to express it other than telling you and the building desire to kiss you. he followed you down to your dorm. your roommate grinned at him.

“hey mack,” maya waved.

“hey maya,” he waved back.

“look, he brought me flowers,” you showed maya the pretty bouquet.

“wow, brownie points for the hockey player,” she teased a bit which made him flush. he watched you find a vase and fill it with water from your bathroom. you came back out and placed the flowers into the vase.

“like them?” you asked for his opinion.

“i like them,” he nodded.

“i’ll put them by my desk for now. thank you, again,” you pecked his cheek.

“of course,” the boy was glad you liked them and he was glad he decided on getting them the other day because the smile on your face was so worth it after spending an hour at the store trying to pick them out.

“okay, we’re gonna head out now. we’ll be back later,” you called to maya who threw up a thumbs up.

“have fun! don’t get too drunk.”

you went back down the elevator and then out of the building where you latched your arm with mack’s. he rubbed your hand and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“it’s not far from here,” you explained as you led the way.

“i’ve never been to one of these before,” the boy admitted a bit nervously.

“don’t worry, it’s so chill. you’ll get to meet some of my sorority sisters, we’ll eat, dance, drink some, and then we can leave whenever,” you explained and it eased some of mack’s nerves a bit more hearing you explain it. as much as he appreciated samy’s brief explanation, he also liked hearing it come from your lips too.

the two of you came up on one of the college bars in the area. it was already blasting music that could be heard from outside. macklin followed you inside where you were immediately greeted with security to check your ids. you both got little x’s on your hands meaning neither of you were 21. mack’s gaze flicked around the space that was dimly lit and pumping base through his bones.

“omg, y/n, hey!” a girl greeted you.

“hi jen, you look gorgeous!” you admired your friend’s dress.

“no you do! is this your boyfriend?” she turned her attention to mack.

“yes, this is macklin,” you gripped his arm again and the boy managed a tiny smile.

“nice to meet you. i’m jen, the sorority president. come on in. we have food in the back and drinks at the bar so get whatever,” jen explained.

you quickly led macklin to the back because you were starving. the boy watched you take a plate so he copied whatever you did. you laughed at his behavior.

“don’t be so nervous, mack.”

“sorry. just getting used to it all,” he said. he’d never been into a bar before because he wasn’t old enough first of all and if he was caught underage drinking he’d definitely get a mean punishment from his coach.

“it’s okay. it’s overwhelming, but i’m right here remember,” you assured and some of the worries eased hearing you say that. macklin offered a grateful smile as he followed your lead with the food and then followed you to a seat.

you sat with some other girls and their dates which got all of you quickly talking. the more you talked, the more comfortable macklin became and flushed when a few people recognized him as a hockey player. being next to you made him feel a lot more comfortable too. seeing you look so calm and content helped him do the same and by the time you were done eating, he was having a full conversation with some of the guys without you involved.

“let’s get pictures!” one girl exclaimed when she came around with her camera.

you pulled mack up. he eagerly wrapped his arm around your waist, the two of you smiling wide as the flash went off—almost blinding you guys because it was so bright and the room was so dark.

“aw, you guys look adorable,” the girl spun the camera around so you could see the preview. macklin quickly kissed your cheek.

“i love it, thanks,” you said.

you guys ventured back towards the center of the dance floor to start dancing along with the others. macklin was big on getting to dance, so he took full advantage, urging you to join his energy. you giggled at the way he bounced on his feet and pulled out his best dance moves for you.

when everyone started coming onto the floor, it got warm fast so the brunette lost his suit jacket leaving him in just his dress shirt that was almost halfway unbuttoned by now. his arms were around your waist, the two of you swaying to the beat and being in your own world together.

any anxiety the rookie felt earlier had completely disappeared being in the center of the dance floor with you. all that mattered to him was you in his arms as he spun you around.

“did i tell you how gorgeous you look?” the boy leaned in closer as he spoke over the music.

“you did, yes,” you grinned.

“well i’ll tell you again. you look gorgeous. prettiest girl here,” his words earned a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re too sweet, mack.”

“i’m serious, y/n/n. you’re beautiful,” he leaned in closer, still wanting that kiss he hadn’t gotten yet. you saw his request and closed the gap.

the two of you shared a sweet kiss, not caring that there were others around you or watching. your lips felt like heaven against the hockey player’s. he never wanted to let you go, but forced himself to to get some air back into his lungs.

“i could kiss you forever,” he mumbled.

“me too,” and you reconnected your lips for another quick kiss. mack’s hands wandered a bit lower towards your hips and then swiping over your ass. a giggle left your lips at his behavior.

“we should save this for the dorm,” you smiled while directing him away for now. a little pout appeared, but he understood and let you go.

the music picked up again and it had him spinning you around once more. because all of his focus was on hockey growing up, the brunette’s never had an experience of going to an end of the year dance or prom or anything, so he was glad he was getting to make this up with you right now.

as the night winded down, you and macklin decided to leave. he threw his suit jacket over your shoulders for the quick five minute walk back to your dorm. you appreciated his gesture, tugging it closer to your body to hide yourself from the semi-cold evening temperatures.

“thanks for coming tonight,” you smiled as you rode the elevator.

“of course. i had a lot of fun. thanks for bringing me,” mack returned your smile.

“i’m glad you did. better get ready for next semester,” you teased a bit and mack’s heart swelled just a little bit at the idea of coming back to your formal because that meant you wanted him enough to stick around for the next one.

he knew what you two had meant a lot to both of you, but sometimes he got in his head just a little bit wondering if he was good enough for you or not enough because he was some big shot hockey player and he knew what everyone thought about hockey players. he worried he wasn’t the one for you even though you were 100% the one for him. he knew it from the day he met you, so hearing you say that made him burst with joy.

maya wasn’t in the dorm, probably taking the hint that you guys wanted the room to yourselves. macklin was glad because he wanted to continue that kissing you guys were doing earlier.

he watched you hang up his suit jacket like you did every time he brought his suits with him and kick your shoes off. he followed suit and then didn’t waste another second bringing your lips to his again.

that urge he’s had all night only got stronger the more he kissed you. you reciprocated all of his actions and unspoken wants, pulling your hand through his pretty brunette locks and running your hand down his chest.

“i love you,” the boy mumbled between kisses.

“i love you,” you breathed.

he found your gaze for a second, wondering if this was right. wondering if you were sure about him. his thoughts were answered though when you grabbed ahold of his face to kiss him again and lead him to your bed.

needless to say, all of his anxieties were eased by the end of the night and the love he had for you had never been bigger.

[completeoveranalysis]

[8]

FUN to find out that the entire reason Yuuko kept the store running in the first place was to help pay the price for Sakura’s existence. 

Also very interesting that, I think, the world of dreams is ‘the first’ world. Which makes a lot of sense, if every other world was built out of the promise of a dimension of dreams - which also explains why this place still exists if the rest of reality is broken or shattered. 

I’d love to hear a bit more about how she ‘warped’ the world. Like, does she mean by her existence or her actions? Was her pseudo-resurrection itself what warped the world of dreams, or does she mean that she took a part of the dimension and warped it into her store? Because I like that too! It threads a lot of connections behind the disappearing store that only appears when you need it, and Watanuki existing there just fine, and how it started to fade away when either Yuuko or existence itself started to crumble fall apart. 

There's also a little quirk of the wording where "in this store" kind of implies that they're in the store right now - which I suppose might as well be true. If the store is warped out of the world of dreams, and they're in that part of it now, then it makes sense that that's where Yuuko kind of still exists for the moment.

And THIS is fun too! Clow not even MEANING to try and break the universe to keep Yuuko (though that would have been delicious). Clow just being so infinitely powerful that his grief overtook his emotions and he just thought that he’d like her back and that was enough. That one unconscious wish was all it took to freeze her in time and crack a hole in the universe. 

No wonder he wanted to give up his power. No wonder he traded it away and broke it up and gave it to different people and hoped other people would do better. 

OH. Though that also confirms that it was not a wish granted by Evil Wolverine, as implied a few pages ago. I guess they translated the phase "that wish" without thinking about how it sounded in the moment.

Also - fascinating that Clow accidentally did Yuuko’s revival without even trying, but didn’t WANT to do the full thing. And Evil Wolverine has spent all this effort trying to Actually Do the real thing and having to shatter everything around him to get it to even partially work. Like, Evil Wolverine has done ALL this to try and FORCE the universe to do what he wants, and Clow was afraid of accidentally doing it by just thinking it too hard. 

Something something look what they need just to mimic a fraction of our power something something

I don't know what that's from

Oh and this page winds it back up with what I was just talking about earlier - Clow wanting to disestablish his own power because of how dangerous it was to reality itself. 

OOF. WOW. 

I was not expecting these reveals but like. I suppose if there’s only so many chapters left THEY WERE GOING TO COME SOON WEREN’T THEY?

FINAL VOLUME STARTING STRONG

[yermes]

The existential nightmare that is taking a break 🫖

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Pick a meme

123

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Disclaimer: please take what I say with a grain of salt and not as the gospel. I just want to share some ideas of practicing and giving advice using the medium as often as I can with school, work, and my own personal studies and practice. But I am working on sharing my notes soon so that will be exciting! Liking and sharing does a lot 🥰

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Socials: My Socials **☾**

Has link to bookstagram

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The cards

Gallium Ga 31

You need a break to go from one system to another, the state of being human is very fluid in nature, to be able to exist within your vary nature you must be fluid. In order to achieve this we must rest, we must rest, we must relax and in order to know whats the next best step we must rest. When we are in the trawls of the current effort and strain we cannot always think coherently or about potential other options. Take a break, think about your circumstances but don’t let it overwhelm you, don’t let yourself get overwhelmed on the break, boredom gives you ample time to think but also may lead you to think in a harmful way. Practice self care.

Yttrium Y 39

You are in between, in between choices, in between jobs, in between majors. Whatever it is you are at a point where you feel like you have to make a hard decision but you feel as though you are unable to do so. Thats fine, but I do want to challenge you to drag yourself out of the 5 second attention span brainrot to actively think about it. Think about what you want and a potential future for you and your endeavors, you are at a crossroads, you should think about making a decision about what you actually want so you don’t spend time floundering, and even if you change your mind later a good general course of direction is a good idea.

Silver Ag 47

Good things come as byproducts of others. You can start on a path and find something better. You may not be meant to be on a path as concrete as everyone else's you may be on a path where you may have to make. So take breaks, take a breather, be kind to yourself and treat yourself to some rest and brainrot because tbh its hard floating around because the ather in your place. Its hard being so untied down where people expect a steadfast path. Its hard to be so individual and so independent in your path that you must take breaks otherwise you will have a hard time. You will burn out being so unapologetically yourself.

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Extras:

Story/vent:

Im so inlove w this person shoot me

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[memorabxlia]

Silent Cry ━ 여상

genre: hurt/comfort summary: will you be saved in enough time? warnings: attempted suicide, mental health topics, harassment, bullying, insecurity, mentions depression pairing: idol!yeosang x fem!reader wc: 1.3k a/n: this fic is not for the faint-hearted. If any of the topics above are triggering for you, I highly recommend not reading this. However, if you choose to proceed, you are reading at your own risk. nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

"You know, the others can't stop talking about you." Yeosang's voice is soft, tender, the way it always is when the two of you are alone. You're curled up next to him on the couch in your shared home, his arm draped over your shoulders as you rest your head on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is calming, like a lullaby.

You smile at his words, though the weight on your chest doesn't lift. The members—Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, Mingi, all of them—have been nothing but kind to you since you started dating Yeosang. They treat you like family, as if you've been part of their lives for years. But no matter how much they adore you, how many times they assure you that you're loved and welcome, it doesn't change the fact that a different kind of attention lingers on the edges of your happiness.

The fans.

You scroll through the comments more often than you should. It's hard not to. Every post, every picture of you with Yeosang, is flooded with messages. Some supportive, but too many are venomous.

_"You don't deserve him."_

_"He could do better."_

_"She's not even that pretty. He should be with someone skinnier."_

The words sting, no matter how many times you tell yourself they don't. And it's not just the comments. They've started leaking into your private messages, too. Fans telling you to end it, to let Yeosang go so he can be with someone they think is worthy of him. Sometimes, they even threaten you. Not directly, but in the veiled way that makes your skin crawl.

You haven't told Yeosang about it. You don't want to burden him. He's already got so much on his plate with the group, the fans, the media. You don't want to add to that.

But it's getting harder to ignore.

"Hey," Yeosang's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet."

You tilt your head up to look at him, his dark eyes full of concern. You hate that look. It makes you feel like you're worrying him, like you're dragging him down into your mess. You force a smile.

"I'm fine," you lie, and he doesn't seem convinced.

"Are you sure?" he presses, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"I know," you mumble, sitting up a little. You look down at your phone, your fingers itching to open the messages you've been ignoring all day. You don't, though. Not while he's watching. "I'm just tired."

He watches you for a moment longer, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn't push. Instead, he shifts, wrapping his arms around you again and pulling you closer.

"If you're tired, let's go to bed," he suggests softly, his breath warm against your skin. "We can talk tomorrow."

You nod, even though you know you won't sleep. Your mind will race all night, replaying every hurtful comment, every cruel message, until you feel like you're suffocating.

The next day is worse. You wake up to more messages, more hateful words. You can't escape it. No matter how much you try to stay off social media, it's like the negativity follows you. You start to wonder if they're right. Maybe Yeosang would be better off without you. Maybe he deserves someone prettier, skinnier, someone who fits the image the fans have in their heads.

You try to brush it off, but by midday, it's too much. You can't keep pretending everything's fine.

So you send Yeosang a text.

*I love you. I just want to say thank you for everything. For all the love you've shown me.*

You stare at the message for a long time before hitting send. You don't know what you expect him to say, but it doesn't matter. You just need to tell him. You need him to know how much you appreciate him, even if things fall apart.

When Yeosang reads the message, it immediately sets off alarms in his head. He knows you. He knows when something isn't right, and this—this message feels like a goodbye. He doesn't bother replying. Instead, he rushes out of the practice room, ignoring the confused looks from the other members, and drives as fast as he can to your shared home.

You're standing on the edge of the balcony when he bursts through the door, your hands gripping the railing so tightly your knuckles turn white.

"Don't," you say, your voice shaking as you hear him approach. "Don't come any closer."

Yeosang freezes, his heart pounding in his chest. He's never seen you like this—so broken, so fragile. He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he can't lose you.

"Please," he whispers, his voice cracking as he takes a cautious step forward. "Just come down, okay? We can talk. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't understand," you choke out, your vision blurred by tears. "I can't do this anymore. The fans—they hate me. They hate me, and I can't take it. I'm ruining everything for you."

Yeosang's eyes widen in horror. The fans? This is because of them?

"You're not ruining anything," he insists, his voice stronger now, desperate. "I love you. You, not them. Don't listen to them, please. Just... step down. We'll figure it out together, I swear."

You shake your head, the tears spilling over. "I can't..."

Yeosang tries to move closer, but he stumbles, tripping over his own feet in his haste. The sudden motion startles you, and before you realize what's happening, your foot slips, and you're tumbling over the edge.

But before the ground can meet you, strong arms catch you.

"Mingi!" Yeosang's voice is full of relief as he watches the taller member steady you in his arms. Mingi had followed Yeosang, concerned when he saw his friend's panic. He'd arrived just in time to catch you.

"You okay?" Mingi asks gently, his arms still around you as you tremble in his grasp.

You nod weakly, but you can't find the words to thank him. Your mind is still spinning, too overwhelmed by everything.

Yeosang rushes down to where you and Mingi are, his hands shaking as he reaches for you. "Thank you," he breathes, his voice cracking again as he takes you from Mingi's arms. "I'll—I'll thank you properly later, I promise."

Mingi just nods, giving you both a worried look before stepping back to give you space.

Yeosang holds you close as he leads you back inside your home, his arms wrapped tightly around you like he's afraid to let go. You sit down on the couch together, and for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

Finally, Yeosang speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"

You can't look at him. You stare at your hands, your fingers trembling as you try to form the words. "It's... it's the fans," you mumble, your voice weak and broken. "They... they hate me. They keep saying I don't deserve you. That I'm not good enough, that I'm ruining everything for you."

Yeosang's heart shatters at your words. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You're not ruining anything," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't care what they say. You're the one I love. You're the one I want. No one else."

You try to respond, but the words catch in your throat, and all you can do is sob into his chest.

Yeosang holds you tighter, whispering soft reassurances, sweet nothings, until your breathing starts to slow, your sobs quieting.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Don't apologize," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry. I should've seen how much this was hurting you."

You shake your head, but he doesn't let you argue. He just holds you, whispering that everything will be okay, that you're not alone, that he'll always be there.

Eventually, the exhaustion takes over, and you fall asleep in his arms, your head resting against his chest. Yeosang stays awake a little longer, his fingers brushing gently through your hair as he holds you close, vowing to protect you from the world, from the fans, from everything that tries to hurt you.

Because to him, you're all that matters.

❥﹒ ateez taglist: @minkilicious

[one-green-frog]

Hello! May I request Kanto Mikey with a boyfriend who is very self sacrificial even though he’s not in a gang and one day Mikey’s bf wounds up in the hospital after saving someone from a life threatening incident?

Unspoken Sacrifices

Mikey's normally indifferent manner was shattered as he paced back and forth in the hospital hallway, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Every second that went by made the knot in his stomach tighten and twist. He hated hospitals—the sterile smell, the quiet hum of machinery, the way time seemed to drag. But today, he hated it even more.

He had never wanted you to get involved. You weren’t like him, weren’t part of his world. That was one of the things he loved about you, your kindness, your warmth, the way you saw the best in people even when they didn’t deserve it. But that same selflessness was what had landed you here, behind the hospital doors that separated him from you.

It had been a normal day, for Mikey at least. You were supposed to meet him for lunch, your treat of course. But then he got the call. A shaky voice hardly explained what had happened before Mikey was already out the door andhe sped toward the hospital on his bike

You’d saved a stranger. That much was clear. You shoved a young child out of the way when a reckless driver lost control of his vehicle as he was about to cross a busy street. You weren't quick enough, even if you saved the child. As those watching shouted for help the car collided with you full force, sending you flying across the pavement with blood pooling beneath you.

Mikey slammed a fist against the wall, the dull thud reverberating down the empty corridor. He should’ve been there. He should’ve stopped it, somehow, should have helped in some way. The idea of you lying on the cold pavement, hurt and bleeding, surrounded by strangers, was enough to make his stomach churn. He wasn’t used to this kind of fear, this helplessness. In his world, when there was a problem, he fought his way through it. But this wasn’t something his fists could fix.

The door creaked open, and a nurse stepped out. Mikey immediately straightened, his piercing gaze locking onto her. “Is he... is he okay?” he asked, his voice low and tense.

The nurse offered a small, timid smile. “He’s stable. The injuries were serious, but the doctors were able to stop the bleeding and set the fractures. He’ll need time to recover, but he’s out of danger for now.”

Mikey exhaled sharply, relief flooding through him so fast he almost felt dizzy. “Can I see him?”

The nurse nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

The sight of you hit him harder than he’d expected. You were lying there, pale and fragile against the stark white sheets, an oxygen mask over your face and thick bandages wrapped around your head. Your arm was in a cast, and bruises bloomed across your skin, cruel reminders of the incident. Mikey’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn’t move.

He pulled a chair up beside your bed, lowering himself into it with more care than he usually showed. His hand hovered over yours, unsure if he should touch you, if he might hurt you somehow. Finally, he rested his hand on top of yours, his fingers trembling slightly.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Why... why did you have to do that? Why couldn’t you just stay out of it?”

His words were harsh, but his tone was anything but. There was no anger in it, only raw pain and fear. He looked at you, his expression softening as he took in the rise and fall of your chest, the small signs that you were still here, still breathing.

“You don’t even... you don’t even get how much you mean to me, do you?” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve lost so many people, and I’ve been fine with it. I had to be. But you... I don’t think I could live on without you"

He let out a shaky laugh, dragging a hand through his messy blond hair. “You’re not even in a gang, and yet you’re the one in the hospital. That’s just... that’s just you, huh? Always putting everyone else first. Even when it puts you in danger.”

Mikey sat there for a long time, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. He thought about all the times you’d scolded him for being reckless, for taking unnecessary risks. And yet here you were, throwing yourself in harms way

When your eyes finally fluttered open, Mikey shot up, his face lighting up with a mix of relief and concern. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning over you. “Don’t try to move. Just... just rest, okay?”

You smiled weakly, your voice barely audible. “I’m fine, Mikey. Don’t... don’t look so worried...”

He shook his head “You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “just... don’t ever do that again. Please.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes meeting his. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “But... the child...I couldn’t just stand there.”

Mikey's shoulders were shaking as he put his face against your hand. "I understand," he muttered. “That’s why I love you. But please, for me... just be more careful. I can’t lose you.”

The two of you stayed like that, the weight of what had happened hanging in the air. But for Mikey, all that mattered was that you were still here, still alive. And he silently vowed to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

[earthlybeam]

Hellooo m’dear! I’m on a bit of a Gil-galad obsession train at the moment (to accompany my Adar obsession).

Your last post (https://www.tumblr.com/earthlybeam/770365509527027713/back-with-more) got my little Gil-obsessed brain whirring.

So, I’m now intrigued as to how Gil-galad would react to his human S/O organising him a birthday party, complete with homemade gift, and baking and decorating him a birthday cake.

If you have the time to indulge me, I would be so very grateful 😁 have a great day 🖤

I hope this is to your liking! I really enjoyed giving it a try—it’s quite lengthy! part two at bottom linked. ✨🫶❤️‍🔥 enjoy

Gil-galad would react to his human S/O organising him a birthday party, complete with homemade gift, and baking and decorating him a birthday cake.

✨👑🏵️ 𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭 🏵️👑✨

🜲 Gil-galad’s eyes fluttered open, as the soft light of morning filtered through the high windows of his chambers. His mind, as ever, was already awake, swiftly carrying the weight of his duties, the endless concerns of the realm, and the responsibilities he bore. His eyes were accustomed to the dim light of dawn, and as he lay there, his gaze wandered towards the intricate, carved woodwork of the bedposts and the gentle sway of the curtains, moving with the breeze of the morning. But something was… different. His sharp, elven eyes immediately caught the subtle shifts in the atmosphere—the small, almost imperceptible changes in the room’s usual austere, regal arrangement. For a brief moment, his mind wandered, unsure if he was simply imagining things, a trick of the light, or perhaps an illusion born of weariness. However, the longer he lay there, the more certain he became that something had changed overnight. The walls of his room, which typically held only the quiet majesty of Noldorin craftsmanship, were now softened with unexpected touches. Soft strands of finely woven garlands—delicate as moonbeams—hung like tendrils from the high beams. Flowers, carefully arranged, were placed in vases of glass and crystal, their vibrant hues seeming to sing in the early light. Each bloom, though simple, bore the unmistakable mark of care and thoughtfulness, far removed from the elegant yet minimalist design he was used to.

🜲 There were ribbons, fine and flowing, draped in patterns that suggested more than mere decoration—they felt like a celebration of something more personal, something deeply meaningful. Every corner of the room was filled with a lightness, a warmth that was rare in these halls. It felt… inviting, a sentiment that surprised him in the midst of his endless duties. Gil-galad, ever composed, sat up slowly, his heart thudding ever so slightly faster as he took in the full scope of the transformation. His gaze moved over the familiar furnishings—the tall bookshelves, the elegant tapestries—and yet now, they seemed imbued with a kind of magic he was not accustomed to. There was something distinctly human about the decorations, something raw and genuine in the way they had been arranged. The effect was both calming and unnerving, as if something he had not expected had quietly crept into his ordered world.

🜲 He could not fathom how he had slept through this—how the transformation had occurred while he lay there, unaware, as if time itself had momentarily suspended its constant march. His brow furrowed slightly, a reflection of his mixed emotions: part astonishment, part appreciation, but with the smallest hint of trepidation. He took a deep breath, allowing the weight of the surprise to settle. For a moment, he simply looked at the room, his gaze lingering on each thoughtful detail—the careful placement of a bouquet of lilies, the shimmer of golden garlands, the faint scent of something warm that clung to the air. It was… overwhelmingly personal, a shift from the grandeur he had grown so accustomed to. He shook his head slightly, almost as if trying to dispel the feeling of vulnerability that crept into his chest. Such displays of affection were rare in the world of Elves, and yet, in the wake of all that he had endured, there was something about this… something about you that made him feel like this room was no longer just a space filled with history and duty, but something more—something alive, something for him. A small smile touched his lips, though it was fleeting, hidden behind the mask of duty he so often wore. His eyes softened as he took in the peaceful quiet of the morning. The world outside still hummed with its usual pace, but in here, in this space, everything felt different. It felt as though, for just a moment, he had been allowed to simply be.

🜲 Gil-galad rose slowly from the bed, his movements deliberate but graceful. As he stood, his gaze fell upon the room once more, his mind already racing with thoughts of what this meant. But for now, he allowed himself this quiet moment of wonder, appreciating the beauty of it, the thoughtfulness behind it—your thoughtfulness. And with that, he turned to continue his day, still wrapped in the warmth of your surprise, his heart beating a bit quicker than usual, and a quiet sense of gratitude beginning to take root.

🜲 Till Gil-galad sees an unexpected sight, now adorned with a curious trail of flowers and confetti, leading out of his room. The soft petals seemed carefully scattered, as though placed with an artist’s touch, and the confetti—bright and homemade—fluttered lightly in the breeze, glistening like tiny stars against the stone floor. His first instinct was one of curiosity, the sharp tactician in him recognizing a path, but with none of the weight of his usual duty. He began walking, his bare feet brushing the soft petals as he moved forward, following the delicate trail. Each step brought him deeper into the unknown, where only these small, vibrant touches from an unexpected source awaited him. But it wasn’t just the path that piqued his interest—it was the peculiar, carefully placed parchment that caught his eye, propped against the wall with a sense of urgency. With a smooth motion, Gil-galad knelt down and plucked the note from where it had been nestled between a bunch of flowers. The handwriting was neat and human in its delicacy, each letter carefully written with an almost artistic flair. He unfolded the note, reading the first corny clue aloud to himself in a low, amused tone: “A king of great might, a ruler of lore, You walk with grace, but what’s next in store? Follow the flowers, don’t miss the mark, The next clue’s waiting near a place very dark.”

🜲 Gil-galad paused for a moment, his brows furrowing. Very dark? Surely, this couldn’t be the next step. He looked around, but the light in the halls of Lindon was soft, diffused by the light of dawn that filtered through the windows. He glanced at the floor, noticing more of the trail of confetti and flowers, and moved onward, confident that the answer was hidden somewhere just beyond the obvious. The next clue came quickly, tucked neatly into a vase, half hidden by more flowers. Gil-galad reached out, retrieving it with practiced grace. He opened it and read aloud: “A place that’s not dark, but the hint’s in the name, The flowers will lead you, no need for shame. A place for the hearts, where secrets are kept, A garden of peace where dreams are slept!” The King smiled, a faint expression of amusement flickering over his usually impassive features. Of course. The garden—where else could it lead? It was where the great matters of the Elves were decided, where moments of peace and reflection were held. It was the perfect setting. And yet, something about the lightness of the clue—especially with its playful rhyming—brought a hint of warmth to his heart.

🜲 Gil-galad continued on, now with more purpose. The flowers, now interspersed with more confetti, made the path feel almost whimsical—an aspect of life he rarely allowed himself to indulge in. As he turned a corner, he came across another letter, placed ever-so-delicately on a side table by the window. He picked it up, enjoying the playful nature of the mystery unfolding around him. The letter read: “A step further now, but beware the twist, You’re looking for more than you might have missed. A place that’s sweet, where cakes may reside, But first, dear King, do not let your pride collide!” Gil-galad chuckled to himself softly at the playful warning. Pride, indeed. He was more than accustomed to receiving praise for his valor and wisdom, but in these moments, all of that seemed to fade into the background. The clues were teasing him in the most human way, and yet there was something deeply endearing about it. As he continued on, he moved with the ease of a leader on a mission, yet there was an undeniable lightness to his step.

🜲 The confetti seemed to grow more vibrant, the flowers more abundant, leading him onward to a new clue, this one pinned to the door of the next hallway. He approached it, reading the next part of the puzzle aloud to himself: “At last, you’re near, just one more clue, A hint for a place where laughter will brew. It’s a space filled with joy, where happiness grows, And if you don’t find it, just follow your nose!” Gil-galad raised an eyebrow. Follow my nose? The mystery deepened, but the warmth in his chest only grew. Where laughter would brew, where happiness grows… He walked further along the trail, now certain of where the path was leading: the private gardens. He had spent many quiet hours in those gardens, away from the prying eyes of his court, and though the path had grown increasingly whimsical and human in its charm, the gardens remained an Elven sanctuary. But there’s more, he thought, as he took in the riot of flowers, confetti, and joy. As he continued walking, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

🜲 And then, just as he reached the final stretch of the path, the trail began to fade into the natural beauty of Lindon’s backdrop, the sun filtering through the trees, illuminating the space with its warmth. The next moment, the final clue would reveal itself. But for now, he stood on the edge of anticipation, feeling the surge of something new—an affection, a lightheartedness he rarely allowed himself to feel—wrapped up in these playful and heartfelt moments. Finally Gil-galad stepped softly into the private gardens of Lindon, his eyes drawn immediately to the breathtaking scene before him. The usual tranquility of this hidden corner of his realm had been transformed, but not in a way that felt intrusive. The grandeur of the place, always imbued with the timeless beauty of his people, was now interwoven with something distinctly different—something heartfelt, something personal. The view of Lindon stretched endlessly before him, the lush green hills rolling towards the horizon, the faint shimmer of the distant sea catching the light of the setting sun. A gentle breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the delicate scent of flowers, mingled with the earthy scent of the trees and grass. It was the perfect backdrop, one that made this moment feel almost magical, a rare quiet peace, untouched by the usual demands of duty.

🜲 But what truly captured his attention were the decorations—his eyes tracing the path laid out before him, taking in every detail as he moved forward. Between two grand, towering trees, a large cloth banner swayed gently in the wind. The words “Happy Birthday” were painted in elegant, hand-crafted letters, each stroke a testament to care and attention. The banner was surrounded by soft, flowing ribbons, each one carefully sewn together by hand, in colors that seemed to reflect the very seasons of Lindon. Earthy greens, sky blues, and rich golds, each ribbon fluttered gently, echoing the movement of the trees and the breeze. Gil-galad’s heart softened as his gaze shifted to the garlands of fresh flowers hanging between the trees. The lavender and daisies, woven with ivy, dripped with the natural beauty of the land. The sweet perfume of the flowers mingled in the air, creating an ethereal, almost dreamlike quality that surrounded the space. It was both regal and intimate, a harmonious blend of nature and creation, and it left him momentarily still, appreciating the effort that had gone into this unexpected display.

🜲 The center of the garden was the table, a simple yet profound focal point for the celebration. The table was draped with a soft white sheet, the fabric embroidered with branches, leaves, and stars—each stitch revealing a personal touch, a quiet message of significance. It was unmistakably human in its warmth, yet it somehow felt in perfect harmony with the Elven landscape. The centerpiece of the table was a cake, unlike anything Gil-galad had ever seen. It was simple in its design, but undeniably beautiful. The layers of the cake were light and airy, the smooth cream-colored icing perfectly balanced. Gold dust, delicately scattered across the top, shimmered in the fading light, reflecting the warmth of the moment. Atop the cake, an edible crown rested—small but exquisite, a reminder of his heritage, but soft in its representation, making the gesture feel more intimate, more personal.

🜲 As he stepped closer, he noticed the confetti scattered on the table—tiny pieces of colored paper, cut in the shape of falling leaves. Each piece seemed to catch the light, twirling in the breeze, adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise regal atmosphere. Surrounding the table were balloons, soft pastel hues, adding a sense of lightness to the space. The decorations, simple yet graceful, made the garden feel like a sacred place, a space transformed by love and care. Gil-galad’s gaze lifted to the small paper lanterns that had been carefully placed around the garden, their soft glow illuminating the area as the evening began to settle in. The light they cast was warm and inviting, filling the space with a sense of peace and intimacy. It was as if the entire garden had been bathed in soft, glowing light, and the stars above were joining in the celebration.

🜲 The contrast between the Elven grace of the landscape and the human craftsmanship of the decorations touched Gil-galad deeply. There was something about this moment that struck him profoundly—something beyond the beauty of the flowers or the cake, something that spoke to the heart. It was the personal touch that had been woven into every part of this celebration, the effort, the love, the care that had gone into creating such a moment. This wasn’t just a party—it was a celebration of him, of who he was, and of the connection between them, the Elven king and his mortal love. His heart swelled with emotion as he continued to take in the scene, and for a moment, the weight of his crown, his duties, and his responsibilities seemed to slip away, replaced by a quiet gratitude. There was no grand speech, no formalities. There was just this moment, this gift, and the love that had shaped it all.

🜲 Gil-galad paused for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath, his gaze shifting once more to the centerpiece—the cake, the lanterns, the flowers. A gentle smile tugged at his lips. There was something so deeply human about it all—so full of heart and life. It made him feel cherished, not as the High King of the Elves, but as the person he was when he stood beside the one who had created this celebration. The entire garden seemed to hum with the quiet joy of the moment, and Gil-galad closed his eyes for just a second, savoring the warmth that filled his chest.

🜲 Than as Gil-galad stood there, lost in the beauty of the scene, taking in every delicate detail, he felt a quiet presence behind him. A soft rustle, the gentle sound of feet brushing against the grass. His heart skipped a beat as the figure he had been sensing all along suddenly emerged from the shadows. Without a word, the person he loved—his human companion—stepped out from their hiding place, eyes sparkling with excitement, and with a bright smile that made his heart flutter. Gil-galad felt his breath catch in his chest, the sheer joy of the surprise. “Surprise!” they exclaimed, their voice full of warmth and joy. “Happy Birthday, Gil-galad!” Before he could even react, you rushed forward, throwing your arms around him in a tight embrace. The warmth of your touch, the scent of the flowers in your hair, and the overwhelming affection in your voice struck him to his very core. For a long moment, Gil-galad simply stood there, holding you in his arms, overwhelmed by the unexpectedness of it all.

🜲 The world around them—the beauty of the garden, the delicate ribbons fluttering in the breeze—seemed to fade away as all his focus narrowed to you. The tenderness with which you had decorated this sacred space, the love that was imbued in every detail, was a gift that touched him more deeply than any grand celebration ever could. “I…I don’t know what to say,” Gil-galad whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His chest tightened, and he pulled you a little closer, feeling his heart swell. “I never imagined…” His heart, which had once borne the weight of centuries, now felt light, lighter than it had in ages. “Thank you…” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “This… this is more than I could have ever expected. I… I am touched beyond words.” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a radiant smile, and in that moment, he saw something in your eyes—pure joy, shared affection, and the unmistakable bond that tied your hearts together. “I wanted to make today special, just for you,” they said softly. “Everything here was made with love, from the decorations to the cake… and even the gift.”

🜲 Gil-galad’s eyes sparkled with admiration as they reached into you pocket, producing a small, intricately carved wooden box. The surface of the box was smooth and polished to a soft gleam, the craftsmanship clear in every curve and detail. His fingers lightly brushed the surface as he accepted the box, a deep sense of appreciation flowing through him. He knew, without needing to open it, that this gift would be something meaningful, something that held more than just the value of the material. With a quiet smile, he carefully opened the box, revealing a handmade pendant in the shape of a star. It was exquisitely crafted, a symbol of his role as the shining light for his people, but it was not just the star itself that moved him. As he lifted the pendant, he noticed that it could open, and as he did, a soft gasp left his lips.

🜲 As Inside, nestled between the delicate edges of the star, was a small picture—of you and him, together. The moment captured in that image held a thousand memories, and it made his heart ache with emotion. The two of you, side by side, in this land of elves and men, in this world of light and shadow. Tears welled in Gil-galad’s eyes as he closed the pendant, holding it tightly in his palm. His breath was shallow, as if the weight of all the love, care, and thoughtfulness that had gone into this moment had overwhelmed him entirely in a way that only someone who truly knew him, who cared deeply for him, could understand. He raised his gaze to meet yours, and in that moment, he was filled with something beyond gratitude. “You’ve given me more than I ever expected,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “More than I deserve. This is not just a birthday… this is a gift of your heart. And for that, I will never be able to thank you enough.” Gil-galad whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion. “I will treasure it forever.” He looked up at his companion, his heart full, his gaze softening as he took in the entirety of the celebration around him—the hand-painted banner, the flower garlands, the cake, the little lanterns glowing warmly in the twilight. Every detail was a reflection of his human companion’s love for him. The whole garden seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of something simple yet powerful, a love that transcended all boundaries. “You’ve… you’ve made me feel truly cherished,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “This, all of this—words cannot do it justice. You’ve created something beautiful, something beyond even what I could have hoped for.” His hand reached out, gently cupping their cheek, his thumb brushing softly across their skin. “Thank you. For making this moment so… personal. So full of heart. I do not deserve such kindness, but I will carry it with me always.”

🜲 With those words, he pulled you into his arms once more, his grip tight with a kind of quiet desperation—as if trying to hold onto this perfect moment, this expression of love so deeply felt that it brought tears to his eyes. He rested his forehead against yours, his voice soft as he whispered again, “I love you.” The tears that had threatened to fall finally did, though Gil-galad made no attempt to wipe them away. They were tears of happiness, of wonder, of a love so overwhelming that it moved him beyond words. And in that quiet, glowing garden, with the stars beginning to twinkle above, Gil-galad knew that this birthday would remain in his heart forever—as the day he was reminded of the depth of love and kindness that lay not only in his people, but in you, his beloved human companion. There was no greater gift than this—this feeling of being truly seen, truly loved, in a way that only his human companion could give him. His birthday, once just another passing day, had become a testament to the love that bound them.

Part 2 continuing from this! ✨🫶🥹❤️‍🔥

[adams-sinful-wings]

Mercy

Prostitute, Pregnant, and Sick Adam gets some help

The streets of Hell were alive with their usual grim chaos—shadows flickering under dim, blood-red lights and the air thick with the acrid stench of sulfur. Adam shuffled back to his usual street corner, his every step labored and uneven. The broken concrete underfoot pressed painfully against his swollen feet, their sharp edges making him wince. He adjusted his threadbare cloak, pulling it tight against his feverish skin. The garment wasn’t much of a disguise, but it was enough to obscure the curve of his belly that seemed to grow heavier with every passing day.

He leaned against a cracked wall, the jagged stone pressing uncomfortably into his shoulder blades. The fever burning under his skin left him flushed and clammy, and every breath came with a shallow rasp. He tried to appear indifferent, as though he wasn’t battling both illness and desperation, but his body betrayed him—a slight tremor in his hands, the faint wobble in his knees.

From the corner of his eye, Adam noticed a tall figure approaching. The demon’s silhouette stood out even among Hell’s chaotic backdrop. He was sharp in every sense of the word—angular cheekbones, piercing eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light, and a sense of presence that set Adam on edge.

The demon’s gaze was intense, sweeping over Adam with the kind of scrutiny that made his skin crawl.

“You working tonight?” the demon asked, his voice low and smooth, but with an undercurrent of something unreadable. The demon looked like a lion, though notably taller than Adam’s 10 foot stature.

Adam forced himself to smirk, masking the discomfort that curled in his gut. He straightened up, shifting his weight against the wall. “Depends on what you’re looking for. I’ve got a few... services.”

The demon tilted his head slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing. “What’s your rate?”

Adam licked his dry lips, his smirk widening. He leaned forward just enough to seem provocative without losing his balance. “One hundred bucks for a quick round. More if you’re into something... creative.”

The demon didn’t reply right away. His gaze lingered on Adam, but not in the usual way. There was no hunger in his eyes, no lecherous gleam. Instead, they roved over Adam’s flushed face, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the way his fingers gripped the wall for support.

“You don’t look so good,” the demon said finally. “Are you okay?”

The question hit Adam like a slap—unexpected and unwelcome. His smirk faltered for half a second before he quickly recovered.

“I’m fine,” he said sharply, his voice tinged with defensiveness. “Just tired is all. You want me or not?”

The demon frowned, his expression more thoughtful than annoyed. His gaze dipped briefly to Adam’s swollen ankles, his trembling hands.

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” the demon said, his tone unnervingly calm.

Adam’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. “I don’t need a lecture, okay? I need cash. You want to fuck or not?”

The demon held up his hands in a placating gesture, the movement almost disarming. “Alright, alright. How about this? Let’s go somewhere more private. I’ve got a place nearby.”

Suspicion prickled at the back of Adam’s mind. The streets of Hell were a breeding ground for ulterior motives, and no one offered anything without expecting something in return. But the dull ache radiating through his body and the clawing hunger gnawing at his stomach left him with little room for negotiation.

“Fine,” Adam muttered, pushing off the wall. “Lead the way.”

——————

The building they arrived at was nothing like Adam had expected. Instead of the gaudy, sinister architecture that dominated most of Hell’s infrastructure, this place was... simple. Its stone walls were plain but intact, and a faint, sterile smell hung in the air—a strange and unfamiliar contrast to the usual sulfur and decay.

The demon opened the door and gestured for Adam to step inside.

“This your place?” Adam asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

“Not exactly,” the demon replied. “I’m a doctor. I work here. Thought you might need some help.”

Adam froze in the doorway, every nerve in his body screaming at him to turn back. A doctor? In Hell? It didn’t make sense. No one helped anyone here unless there was something in it for them.

“A doctor?” Adam repeated, his tone sharp. “What’s the catch?”

The demon—doctor—sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with deliberate patience. “No catch. I saw how sick you looked out there. Thought you might need someone to look you over. Especially considering your... condition.”

His eyes flicked pointedly to Adam’s midsection, though his tone remained neutral.

Adam’s hand reflexively rested on his belly, his suspicion deepening. “Let me help you,” the doctor continued. “No charge. Just sit down and let me do my job.”

Adam hesitated, his instincts warring with his body’s exhaustion. The walls around him felt too close, the air too sterile. Everything about this situation screamed “trap.” But the dizziness swirling in his head and the persistent ache in his muscles left him no real choice.

Reluctantly, Adam stepped inside and shuffled over to the table, climbing up onto it with a wince. His swollen belly made it hard to find a comfortable position, and the ache in his legs only worsened as he sat. He glanced around the room, noting the neat rows of vials and medical equipment. His mind drifted back to something back when he was still under Valentino’s thumb. About how people possessing a medical kink. He flushed at the idea but if it can help pay for a few meals, he might as well play along.

“So, Doc,” Adam drawled, his voice laced with forced bravado. “What’s the prognosis? Am I gonna need some... hands-on attention?”

The doctor didn’t even look up from his stethoscope. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed.

Adam smirked faintly, inhaling theatrically before letting out a low, exaggerated sigh, letting a moan slip. “Oh, Doc, your touch is so... professional~.”

The doctor’s eyes flicked up, his expression deadpan. “I’m not playing games. Now breathe properly.”

Adam frowned but complied, his smirk fading slightly as the doctor worked in silence. The cold diaphragm of the stethoscope against his feverish skin was jarring, but it was the demon’s quiet efficiency that unsettled him most. There was no malice in his touch, no hidden hunger in his gaze. Just... focus.

As the doctor pressed gently against his abdomen, Adam flinched. “Easy there,” he muttered, trying to mask the discomfort. “You’re gonna break me.”

The doctor sighed, his expression softening just enough to make Adam feel exposed. “If you don’t slow down and start taking care of yourself, you’ll break on your own. And it won’t just be you who suffers.”

His hand rested lightly over Adam’s belly, the weight of his words settling heavily in the air. Adam’s lips parted, but no words came out. The weight of the doctor’s hand on his belly felt both grounding and unbearable, as though it pressed down on truths he’d been too scared to acknowledge.

“I don’t need a lecture,” Adam muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands clenched the edge of the exam table, nails digging into the padded surface. “I just need to make it through tonight.”

The doctor leaned back, his sharp features softening as he studied Adam. “And how many more nights do you think you can keep going like this? I’m guessing not many.”

Adam flinched at the bluntness of the words, but he didn’t deny them. The fever, the swelling, the constant hunger—it was all catching up to him faster than he’d thought. And yet, the idea of admitting weakness, of asking for help, was as foreign to him as the sterile smell of the doctor’s clinic.

The demon doctor sighed and stepped away, grabbing a small bottle from a nearby cabinet. “Here,” he said, holding it out to Adam. The liquid inside glowed faintly, a sickly green that didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “It’s a tonic. Won’t fix everything, but it’ll help with the fever and the swelling. Drink it.”

Adam eyed the bottle warily. “What’s in it?”

“Do you really want the details?” the doctor asked, raising a brow. “Or do you want to feel like you can walk again without collapsing?”

Adam hesitated for a long moment before snatching the bottle from the doctor’s hand. He uncorked it and sniffed the contents, grimacing at the sharp, medicinal smell.

“If this kills me, I’m haunting you,” he muttered before tipping the bottle back and swallowing the contents in one go. The liquid burned going down, leaving a bitter aftertaste that made him gag.

The doctor watched him with a faint smirk. “You’ll live,” he said dryly.

Adam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at the demon. “You better hope so. I’ve got too much riding on this.”

The doctor’s gaze flicked back to Adam’s belly, his expression unreadable. “That’s obvious,” he said after a moment. “You’re not the first case like this I’ve seen, you know.”

Adam stiffened, his fingers tightening around the empty bottle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice sharp.

The doctor tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze unnerving in its intensity. “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said softly. “I know what it looks like when someone’s carrying a cambion.”

The words hit Adam like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the doctor. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again as he tried to formulate a response.

“I’m not—” he began, but the doctor cut him off with a raised hand.

“Save it,” the demon said, his voice calm but firm. “I don’t care how it happened or who’s responsible. What I care about is making sure you don’t die before you give birth.”

Adam’s jaw clenched, his heart pounding in his chest. The doctor’s matter-of-fact tone made the situation feel all too real, stripping away the layers of denial and bravado Adam had been clinging to.

“Why do you care?” he asked finally, his voice low and bitter. “No one else does.”

The doctor’s expression softened, just enough to catch Adam off guard. “Because someone has to,” he said simply. “And because if you don’t make it, neither will the child. Whether you like it or not, you’re not just fighting for yourself anymore.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Adam looked away, his gaze fixed on the far wall as he tried to process everything.

“I don’t need a savior,” he muttered after a long silence. “I’ve made it this far on my own.”

The doctor didn’t argue. He just placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, the gesture firm but not unkind. “You’re stronger than most,” he said quietly. “But even the strong need help sometimes. Don’t let your pride kill you—and the child.”

Adam’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he thought he might break. But instead, he forced a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You really know how to kill a mood, Doc.”

The doctor chuckled softly, stepping back and crossing his arms. “Just doing my job. Now, get some rest. You’re staying here for the night.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but the demon cut him off with a raised brow. “No arguments. You need it, whether you admit it or not. The streets will still be there tomorrow.”

For once, Adam didn’t argue. He leaned back against the exam table, his body heavy with exhaustion. As much as he hated to admit it, the doctor was right.

For now, survival was all that mattered.

[anonymouse9172]

They meet (again). Part 1. (Yandere! Poly! Twisted Wonderland x Male Reader)

Malleus and Leona: M/n is Divus Crewel's much younger half brother by 16 years. M/n and Divus did not really get along but neither hated each other either. Due to their age difference they didn't grow up together so they just never truly knew each other and were fine with that. That is until their Dad and M/n's mother died in a car leaving the just barely 18 year old boy, M/n, with no place to go. Though most argued in his family that he was old enough to live on his own and take care of himself even though he had not finished high school and refused to take him in but Divus surprisingly offered him a place to stay until he at least finished high school.

M/n had to move to Night Raven College. He knew it would be rough moving in the last year of high school but he didn't really see a choice other then dropping out and he didn't want to do that either. So he moved and was sorted into Scarbia. He did not interact with anyone outside of Scarbia, his brother, and other teachers for the first week. On the 8th day though he decided to wonder around the campus. He ended up lost in the woods though.

He was trying to determine how to get back to Scarbia when he heard two voices arguing. M/n quickly hurried to the voices. He stumbled upon the sight of a lion beast man in a savanaclaw uniform and dragon fae in a Diasmonia uniform looking ready to either go to blows with each other or kiss. M/n could not tell which.

He wasn't sure if he should interrupt them but he realized he didn't really a choice, he needed to get out of this damned forest one way or another. He cleared his throat drawing of their attentions sharply. "I'm sorry for interrupting but I'm completely lost. Wou...?", he starts but is cut off by the Lion beast man.

"So? That's not our problem, herbivore.", says the says the Lion beast man. "Don't be so rude, Kingscholar. The child of man is just trying to get out of the woods and we are the only people around. It's not like he insulted our gargoyles or something.", says the dragon fae.

The beast man glares. "There you go again talking about gargoyles. There are more important things in life then gargoyles.", says the Lion. The beast man and the fae begin to bricked again back and forth. It was really getting on M/n's nerves. "Can someone please just tell me the way out of here?", says M/n so loudly it verges yelling at them.

The Lion glares at the human Scarbia student. He starts to open his mouth to say something sarcastic but the dragon far beats him. "My apologizes child of man. There is a path about 12 feet behind me. If you follow it west towards the sun it should take you to the main campus.", says the dragon fae. "Thank you.", says M/n and then he quickly sets off down the path.

A minute after he is gone the dragon fae and lion look at each other. The lion grumbles out, "You were right. He's perfect." The dragon smiles. "I know.", says the fae.

Kalim and Jamil: M/n meet Kalim and Jamil as children. He was Kalim's other servant and Jamil's coworker. He wasn't quite treated on the same level as Jamil though. He wasn't as smart, polite, cunning, handsome, or as good a cook. He kind of just belonged in the background doing the more menial things for Kalim, and sometimes even Jamil, and he didn't mind that. When they went NRC he didn't go with them at first so he did not see them for two years. He didnt think much of it or really care.

Then at what would have been the beginning of their third year at NRC it was announced that Jamil and Kalim were dating and M/n was sent by Kalim's family to NRC to take over Jamil's work so that Kalim's boyfriend would not have to servants work at all anymore. M/n had expected to do much of the same as he had before Kalim and Jamil went to NRC and be in the background behind them. However when he arrives and enters the Scarbia dorm he is surprised when Kalim sees him that he rushes and sweeps him off his feet literally.

M/n had always been even tinier the Kalim so it was not all that surprising that the tanned albino prince could do this but that he would was shocking. Kalim had always been friendly to M/n but not overly so like he was with Jamil. When Kalim finally set M/n down again he was even more shocked to see Jamil smiling behind Kalim.

"Follow me, M/n. I'll show you to your room so you can get settled in.", says Jamil. Then the tall brunette turns and starts walking. M/n and Kalim follow while Kalim chatters away and M/n simply nods along with him. After enter his room and shutting the door M/n hears Jamil and Kalim walk away but he doesn't hear them whispering to each other as they do so.

"He's finally here. I want to play with him. It'll be so much fun. We should throw a party.", says Kalim to Jamil excitedly. "Patience, Kalim. We need to slowly ease him in before we officially make him ours. We can't just rush. He'll try to run. We need to play the long game.", says Jamil. Kalim pouts but nods.

Ace and Deuce: M/n's twin brother Yuu was always gallivanting around with Ace and Deuce since they ended up in Twisted Wonderland. However M/n did not think much of them or know them well. Instead he focused on trying to find away home. He spent the longest time scouring books for information and consulting books. After finding nothing the first three months he decided he needed help. First he tried going to Dire Crowley who he thought was also working on a way for them to go home. After a weird conversation he realized that Crowley knew nothing. Then he tried talking Divus Crewel who promptly slammed a door in his face upon realizing he wasn't in fact Yuu. So then he decided to go find the smartest students at NRC for help. He decided to start with Heartslabyul's dorm warden.

When he got there he found his brother in the garden with Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater, and Riddle, who was the dorm warden. When Yuu saw his brother he eagerly waved and yelled, "M/n, get over here." M/n sighed as everyone else's attention flew to him.

He waved awkwardly and walked over. Riddle, Trey, Cater gazes went of M/n but Ace and Deuce stared so unabashedly that M/n felt uncomfortable. Yuu however was about ready to bounce off his seat. "You finally took your nose out of a book and come to join us. I thought you were to good to hang out with the likes of us.", says Ace with a sneer that did not quiet reach his eyes.

M/n felt confused. "What are you talking about? I'm just trying to find a way home for me and Yuu but I couldn't find anything and I scoured every book in the library. I need help.", says M/n. Yuu frowns at M/n and looks down. Everyone falls quiet and Ace and Deuce look pissed. Riddle doesn't say anything and neither do Trey or Cater.

Ace clenches his fists and Deuce grits his teeth. Deuce speaks coldly. "So you don't really want to get to know us? You just want to get out of here and never think of us or see us again? You think that is okay? Like we are nothing.", hisses the blue haired male.

M/n's eyes widen and he feels afraid. He tries to backtrack. "Whoa. No. I just want to go home because I miss my family and friends there. I wasn't trying to insult or belittle you or anything.", he says quickly attempting to placate the blue haired guy.

"Well, you did. Now get out of our fucking faces.", says Ace. M/n feels defeated as he turns and walks away. He just wants to go home not hurt anyone.

When he is out of ear shot Yuu places a hand on Ace's upper arm. "Don't worry. He'll come around soon and you and Deuce will have him in your arms. Then he'll give up on going back to Earth.", says Yuu. Ace slumps, scowls, and says, "I want him now." "Me too.", says Deuce starring wistfully off in the direction the M/n went.

(Sorry this took so long. The other to ships will be in the second part. I got stuck of Leona and Malleus for the longest time and now I am stuck Riddle and Floyd. After the second part I will start of the second scenario and after that I will start taking requests but do not rush me.)

[ek-atherine]

Ink Manifestation

(Satoru Gojo x Reader)

Its been a full year since then, and life had taken on a new rhythm. Satoru and I were still going strong, and our new first-year class now consisted of just Megumi Fushiguro, with another student expected to join us in a few weeks. Megumi had proven himself to be an exceptional student, already demonstrating impressive strength and skill.

Despite my objections, Megumi was sent on a mission to retrieve one of Sukuna’s fingers—a cursed object of immense danger. The mission's location was less than ideal, and I had my doubts about the risks involved. However, Megumi had our contact information should he need assistance, and I made sure Satoru was prepared to teleport us if necessary.

As we awaited further updates on Megumi’s progress, I couldn’t shake the concern gnawing at me. The cursed objects were formidable, and Sukuna's fingers were particularly notorious for their peril. I hoped Megumi’s expertise and preparation would be enough to see him through safely.

“Stop worrying, he’ll be fine!” Satoru said casually, glancing at the assortment of sweets in front of him while I anxiously bit my nails. His phone rang, and he chuckled nervously as he answered. “Satoru Gojo speaking.”

“Is that Megumi?” I asked, leaning in closer.

“Yes,” Satoru confirmed, holding the phone to his ear. “What’s up?”

“The Stevenson hutch is empty,” Megumi’s voice crackled through the receiver.

“For real? That’s hilarious! Maybe it took a nighttime stroll,” Satoru replied, sounding more amused than concerned.

I shot Satoru a frustrated look. “Did he just say the hutch was empty?”

“I’m going to punch you,” Megumi threatened through the phone.

“So am I,” I muttered, glaring at Satoru.

“Well, no going home until it’s recovered, okay?” Satoru said cheerfully before hanging up.

“Satoru! What the hell! What if he needed help?” I yelled, exasperated.

Satoru shrugged, his usual nonchalance on display. “He’ll manage. Besides, it’s not like he’s out there alone. We’ve got his number if he needs us.”

I paced back and forth, unable to shake the unease. “I don’t like this. We should at least be on standby.”

“Alright, alright,” Satoru relented, though he still seemed unfazed. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll keep our phones ready. But remember, Megumi’s a strong student. He can handle himself.”

A day went by, and as the next night fell, I couldn't stand waiting any longer. Megumi hadn’t sent us any updates, and I was determined to make sure he was safe. I had Satoru teleport us to the roof of the school where Megumi was supposed to be. When we arrived, I saw Megumi, bleeding from his head, but the curses seemed to be dealt with. There was also a shirtless boy with pink hair standing next to him.

“Megumi!” I called out, making him snap out of his stance, ready to summon another shikigami.

“Huh? (Y/n)? Gojo? What are you doing here?” Megumi asked, clearly surprised to see us.

“(Y/n) wouldn’t stop worrying, and you weren’t updating us, so we came to make sure you were alright,” Satoru explained, his tone nonchalant. “But you got kind of roughed up, kid.”

Satoru then pulled out his phone, taking pictures of Megumi in his beaten state, laughing as he did. “I’ll show the second-years. Say cheese.”

I snatched Satoru’s phone from his hand. “Leave him alone, Satoru. We were also getting an earful from the higher-ups because the special-grade cursed object is still missing. Did you find it yet?” I asked Megumi, concern evident in my voice.

The boy with the pink hair raised his hand and spoke up, “Sorry, but I ate that thing.”

I blinked, processing what I just heard. “Really?” Satoru asked, barely containing his surprise.

“I did.”

“He did.”

“Wh–why would you…” I began, but then took a deep breath to calm myself. “Are you okay?”

Satoru leaned in close to the boy, studying him intently. “Oh yeah, I feel fine,” the boy replied casually, as if he hadn’t just consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers.

“Satoru, please tell me it didn’t combine with him and everything is fine,” I pleaded with my boyfriend, my anxiety rising.

Satoru burst into laughter. “Damn, it really did combine with you. That’s hilarious.”

“Are you able to swap with Sukuna?” I asked the boy, my voice trembling slightly.

“Sukuna?” he asked, looking puzzled.

“The curse you ate, yeah,” I clarified.

“Oh, yeah, I think I can do that,” the boy said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“Okay, give us ten seconds and change back into yourself,” Satoru instructed, stretching his arms casually.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” I added, not wanting to pressure him.

He looked a bit anxious, but Satoru’s confidence was reassuring. “Don’t worry. I’m way too strong for him,” Satoru said with a confident grin. “Hold this for me, babe?”

I accepted the bag from Satoru, the one he had insisted on buying before coming here. Megumi looked incredulous, realizing Satoru had been shopping amidst the chaos.

As Satoru continued to babble about the different flavors of snacks he had picked out, the boy began to swap with Sukuna. Within moments, Sukuna emerged, his menacing presence palpable. The King of Curses immediately fixed his gaze on Satoru, intent on confronting him.

I stepped in front of Megumi, ready to protect him from Sukuna’s wrath. “Stay behind me,” I instructed firmly. My ink began to gather around me, preparing for a defensive stance.

Sukuna, now fully in control of the boy’s body, wasted no time and charged at Satoru with a lethal intent. Satoru, unfazed, met Sukuna’s aggressive advance with his usual calm demeanor. The clash between their immense powers created shockwaves that reverberated through the roof.

I kept a vigilant watch over Megumi, ensuring he was out of harm’s way while trying to anticipate Sukuna’s next move. The battle was fierce, with Satoru's skill and Sukuna’s raw power creating an intense and dangerous spectacle.

Despite the chaos, I felt a sense of determination. I had faced numerous curses before, but Sukuna was a different level entirely. I had to be ready for anything.

Sukuna seemed momentarily stunned by Satoru's overwhelming power, unable to land even a single blow. Even at just one finger, Sukuna was still a formidable opponent, but this was clearly Satoru’s domain.

“Since my student and my girl are watching, I think I’ll show off a little, yeah?” Satoru taunted Sukuna with a smirk, his playful demeanor never faltering.

I shot Satoru a warning glance. As much as I admired his confidence, mocking the King of Curses, even at his weakest, was a risky move.

Satoru unleashed a powerful strike, sending Sukuna hurtling toward Megumi and me. I quickly summoned my ink, spreading it out to form a protective barrier. As Sukuna slammed into my shield, the impact created a resounding thud, and he bounced off, momentarily disoriented.

Sukuna’s eyes, filled with fury, locked onto me as he pushed himself up from the ground. “You dare interfere, brat?” he growled, his voice laced with a chilling menace.

I held my ground, the ink shield still shimmering and pulsating with energy in front of Megumi and me. A smirk curled on my lips as I met Sukuna’s gaze. “7… 8… 9… 10.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted from rage to confusion as his tattoos began to fade, his monstrous form shrinking back. The boy, now back in his own body, stood before us, looking relieved but slightly dazed. It was impressive that he managed to control Sukuna for even a short time.

“How did it go?” the boy asked casually, a faint smile on his face despite his obvious exhaustion.

I laughed in surprise. “Incredible. You really can control him.”

He shrugged, a hint of weariness in his eyes. “He’s kind of annoying, though, to tell the truth. And I keep hearing his voice.”

Satoru nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s a miracle that’s all he’s doing to you,” he commented as he gently touched the boy’s head. “You’ve handled it remarkably well.”

Before he could respond further, the boy’s eyes fluttered, and he quickly passed out. “What did you do to him?” Megumi asked.

“I just knocked him out,” Satoru replied, and I heard Megumi sigh in relief. “If he isn’t possessed by Sukuna when he wakes up, then he might have potential as a vessel.”

“But Megumi, what do you think we should do with him?” I asked, looking down at Megumi, who was still seated on the ground.

He seemed to think for a moment. “Well, even if he is a vessel, Jujutsu regulations demand Itadori be executed. However, I don’t want him to die.”

“Personal?” Satoru asked.

“I suppose. So, can you save him?” Megumi asked us.

Satoru then threw Itadori over his shoulder. “Just leave it to us, Megumi,” I told him.

[peppermintmagicianlynn]

TimBer Week 2024: First Sleepover

TimBer Week 2024 Day #7: First Sleeepover

Last one of the week. We made it!

It was amazing how casually it had come about.

They’d been dating for six months, officially boyfriends for only a few weeks. And yet…it felt like they’d been together for years. Bernard came by almost every day, they shared meals and swapped clothes, then bickered over whose turn it was to do laundry. It felt like they were sharing the boat as a home together and that filled Tim with delight that he couldn't fully express.

But the one thing they had yet to do was spend a night together.

N-not like that! Just…you know, sleeping in the same space. They’d done that a lot in high school, when they’d stay up late playing video games or watching movies, then crash at one person’s house. They’d make pallets across the floor or just collapse on top of someone’s bed, where parents would drape them in individual blankets.

It wasn’t a new thing… but this was a new thing!

One bed. One blanket. A pre-planned slumber party.

Granted, it had come about for a very non-romantic reason.

--

“Fumigate?!”

Bernard winced at his boyfriend’s outraged exclamation, setting the phone aside while he struggled to fold his clothes into his duffel bag.

“Yeah, some idiot called the health inspector on one of the neighbors. I don’t know what they found, but they gave us all an hour to pack up and get out. They said it won’t be safe to come back until tomorrow.”

“And where exactly do they expect you to go until then?”

Bernard wished they were on video chat so Tim could see his deadpan look. “Tim, babe, this is a low-income district. They don’t care if I sleep on the street as long as I don’t come back until they give the go-ahead.”

Tim squawked over the line while Bernd packed some underwear. “I’ll just sleep at a friend’s house. It’s fine. Jared has a pull-out couch and as long as Toby didn’t get kicked out of his girlfriend’s place again, I can just-”

“Stay here.”

“Huh?”

“Here. At the boat. With me.”

“Uh, are you sure about that?”

“Am I- Bear! You just told me you’re going to be homeless for a night. Why wouldn’t I want you to be here with me?”

“Well, when you put it like that, sure. I have a work shift for the next few hours, but I’ll come around sometime after 8. That cool?”

“Sure, that’s perfect. See you then.”

“Love you.”

Tim was quiet for a moment. Bernard was patient. Then, “I love you, too. See you later. Bye.”

Bernard grinned. It was a tactical risk pulling that on him. It hadn’t been that long ago Tim could call them boyfriends without stuttering. And now, they were going to have their first sleepover together since high school.

Bernard looked at his clothes as he packed them up, particularly his pajamas. They were hand-me-downs from Toby, and while Bernard liked them well enough, would they be a little too ratty for this? And moreover, would showing up there in Batman pajamas be a little too on the nose? He loved teasing Tim about his secret identity but that might actually get him suspicious that Bernard knew the truth. He’d need to pick up something else after he was done with work. He would not show up to his boyfriend’s boat looking like a slob!

--

Tim was a slob messy person. His mind was sharp, his deductive reasoning unparalleled, and his skills across various fields were masterful. But like most geniuses, he thrived in chaos of his own making, and there was no clearer sign of that than his houseboat. Once, his neighbor Lauren had stopped by to ask him to have dinner with her and Tammy, and nearly killed herself walking down the stairs when she slipped on a discarded takeout bag. Not Tim’s fault, though Tammy’s wrath after that incident said otherwise.

So while Tim definitely had to clean up any evidence of his Robin activities - case files, hardware, suit pieces, gadgets - he also gave the space a proper cleaning. Like on-the-floor-with-a-scrub-brush, window-washing, dishes-put-away kind of cleaning. The laundry… well, that went under the bed. He only had so many hours!

The fervor with which he cleaned his living space surprised even him. He had ignored it when his siblings talked about his junky boat; Bernard had already seen it this way from the very start. But he still wanted to make it shine for him. Make it just a little bit better for his boyfriend’s first night over.

--

Bernard arrived in the evening, with his necessities and valuables he didn’t want to leave behind where strangers might rummage through his drawers. A Gothamite born and raised. Tim tried not to linger over the idea that his boyfriend's whole life could probably fit in just three bags and met him on the dock for a welcoming kiss. They had been sharing a lot more kisses since officially calling each other boyfriends (though apparently, Bernard had been calling them that way longer). When they finally pulled back, Bernard was beaming with unrestrained glee. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Tim returned, picking up one of the bags and bringing it into his home.

Bernard gawked at the place. “Uh, did you buy a new house without telling me? Because I swear I haven't seen the floor of your boat since the day before you moved in.”

“Ha-ha,” Tim said, setting the duffel bag down on his clutter-free floor. “If you wanted to sleep in a Five-Star hotel, you should have spoken up sooner.

Actually, his back-up apartment over near Crime Alley might qualify. If Bernard was really uncomfortable sleeping on the boat, maybe he could bring him over there instead. He’d have to be extra careful about the access points to the Nest but…

“No way!” his boyfriend declared, sounding offended at the idea. “I love your boat. It's so cozy and homey and so totally you. It’s perfect just as it is, even when it’s messier than a frat-boy’s dorm!” He just couldn’t resist that last dig.

But Tim appreciated his words all the same.

--

They ordered delivery for dinner, a local Thai place that they both adored. While sitting around Tim’s table, Bernard brought out his laptop to show him his latest discover: a fan-made Green Lantern movie. Tim was genuinely impressed by the flick and was already plotting how to get Bruce into a situation where he couldn’t escape watching it. The aroma of green curry and spring rolls, Bernard’s theories that the filmmakers were actually part of a Lantern Corp splinter group wishing to sway public opinion and take over the universe - all of it felt right. For them, at least.

“It just makes sense,” Bernard insisted between bites of his curry. "By hiding in plain sight on YouTube, they can secretly influence galactic events and just blame it on the more famous members!”

Tim laughed, urging him on. Bernard's eyes sparkled when he was passionate about a new idea.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving through topics of jobs, school, family and anything else they wanted. There was a lightheartedness to it all, but also a deeper connection, an unshakable comfort and safety that let them be as unfiltered and silly as they pleased. As the night went on and their movie ended, they were still talking, ignoring their food that had long gone cold. Bernard leaned back against the bench, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. "This is what I like most about being here. It’s just you and me. It’s nice.”

Tim smiled, reaching out to squeeze Bernard's hand. "I love having you here.”

--

Bernard’s yawning told Tim they’d stayed up long enough. He had already called off of patrol for the night but the other still had work tomorrow, so they couldn’t burn the late-night oil like the might any other time. Tim insisted Bernard could head to the bedroom first and get changed while Tim cleaned up the mess.

“He’s already mending his ways,” Bernard wiped a fake tear from his eyes. “I’ve never been more proud.”

He ran to the bedroom, closing the door fast before the couch cushion could hit him.

--

Bernard felt far less sure about his choice of sleeping clothes now that they were on his body. He’d only allowed himself thirty minutes after his shift to dash into a store and grab a “respectable” set of pajamas off the shelf. No garish logos, no quirky patterns; just something nice and neat for when he shared a bed with his Significant Other.

But seeing himself in the light blue, pinstriped flannel, he looked...wrong. Like he was trying to hide behind something "presentable" and fake his way through. A harsh reminder to his teen years, causing a rush of those old insecurities he'd tried to hard to shed. He shouldn't have bought this. He was proud of who he was and what he liked. So why did he keep having these moments of doubt that made him do things he would end up regretting?

Tim knocked on the door, politely refraining from barging into his own bedroom. Bernard would have given anything to rewind, hit pause, and change his life’s decisions. But he couldn’t.

“Come in,” he said, his voice as steady as he could manage.

Tim pushed the door open, took one look at him, and smiled. “Cute.”

Usually, that word from Tim would make him happy, but this time it hit a little wrong. “Yeah, I know it’s… it’s stupid.” He gripped the offensive fabric between his fingers, hating it more with each passing second. “I should have worn the Batman ones instead.”

“Well, that would be very much your style, you fanboy,” Tim said, coming closer. He wrapped his arms around Bernard’s waist, pulling their bodies together, then murmured into his ear, “But these are nice, too. You're a handsome guy, Bernard, no matter what you wear. These look good on you."

Tim’s boldness was unusual, but his ability to read Bernard's insecurities and immediately sooth them was commonplace. Bernard hugged his wonderful boyfriend in gratitude for those words. He then left the room so Tim could change into his own pajamas, which were a lot simpler: basketball shorts and an oversized T-shirt.

Bernard didn’t let their dissimilarity of outfits bother him a second time. He chose to savor the moment; brushing his teeth together in Tim’s tiny bathroom, hip-checking each other for space in the mirror, and trying not to choke on foam amidst their laughter.

--

Tim’s bed wasn’t small, but it was compact. Enough for one person comfortably and two if they didn’t mind touching in the middle. Bernard waited to see which side the other preferred climbing under the sheets with him, taking the spot closer to the wall.

Was that intentional?

The dock lanterns outside shone their light through the windows, the only illumination they had. Bernard was 80% certain Tim could actually see in this dark, so he felt a little more self-conscious than he might have otherwise. A calloused hand found his beneath the blanket and squeezed it, offering silent reassurance to what he must have read on Bernard’s face.

Finding the right sleeping position was hard; Bernard was used to a much firmer (and lumpier) mattress, so his body was a little unsure how to work with Tim’s memory foam. For his part, Tim couldn’t seem to settle on what part of the bed he actually wanted, going from the very edge of his side to taking up a good chunk in the middle. There was a lot of shifting limbs, sometimes kicking each other which provoked retaliation, but that was a familiar part of their old sleepovers too. It was nostalgic.

“Fair warning: I’ve been told I snore,” Tim whispered.

“That won’t bother me. My roommates are like grizzly bears trying to harmonize with one another in an all-night concert. When my eyes are closed, I’m deaf.” Bernard paused, considering, before adding, “But, um, I might wake up in the middle of the night. I get nightmares sometimes.”

Tim was quiet; Bernard wished he could see his face. Then warm arms came up around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug that always felt like a safe place to hide. “I’ll be right here if you do,” Tim promised, soft yet unyielding. “I’ll be here when you get up tomorrow, too. You're safe, Bear. "

Bernard bit his lip to keep the tears of gratitude at bay. How had he found someone who care so much, who actually paid attention enough to see the fears he’d never admit to. Bernard shifted until his lips found warm skin, trailing them across Tim’s cheek until he could properly kiss the man he loved. It was gentler than what they’d had outside, but twice as meaningful. Simple but perfect, just like this moment. Just like every moment they got to share in this comfy houseboat.

The night dragged on, their attempt to sleep interrupted by whispered comments and gentle touches. Snuggling under the blankets was the best part by far, feeling heartbeats and gentle breaths, the warmth and safety of having a lover’s arms to hold you tightly through the night.

The bond they shared was already strong, but taking a step like this made it feel like they were truly unbreakable.

---

I wonder if you can tell how tired I was after a week of writing. Still, I gave it my best to end TimBer Week 2024 on a good note. That said, I might come back through these on a later date and do some editing. Not for a while, though.

Thank you to everyone who read even one of my posts and a special thanks if anyone joined me in this project!

Let's see what next year brings!

[reignpage]

Saw ur divorce head cannons and omg, I did not expect nanami in the most likely. But yeah, as someone who fumbled a relationship due to my own insecurity I can empathize with reader. Its just that you think so highly of your partner that you feel so small in comparison to them and that you wouldn't be enough for them and that kind of leads to some self loathing and yeah it's does make you both miserable in the end

Yeah idk just some thought hehe (sorry for the tmi that happened long ago I'm fine we're fine never got back together but we're friends i think)

Also, lastly I've said this before I'll say it again. I love your works so much. Keep going 🫶🫶🫶

I mean, I like to think they work on her insecurities through their relationship but that's cause I wish the very best for reader. she's so precious. when I said I put a bit of myself in every reader, the insecurity part is mine with her, and the hiding things with humour stuff. so even though I'd love for their relationship to work out and I do think it likely would, I think it could just as easily fall apart, because all it takes is one bad night or bad moment and everything comes falling apart

bless up Nanami's reader tho 🫶

and thank you 😣

[komaedas-fragments]

[Komaeda’s expression turns into a smile, trying to think of how to word things.]

Okay, well. I think- the first thing to note is that no matter what the outcome is…or who you end up liking doesn’t change who you are as a person. People shouldn’t- view you any differently, and if they do that’s a problem they can sort out on their own because that’s their own perception.

It doesn’t make you unlikable, or less of who you are, and it shouldn’t define you. You don’t really have to come to a conclusion or place a label either, you can simply be you, and like who you like.

[Once Komaeda had started, his wording became a lot more precise and cohesive, focused on trying to help Hinata out.]

You’re not a bad person for who you like. Sometimes for people, staying closeted is beneficial because of religious reasons or where they live, but that also doesn’t make those people less than those who are open about it.

I think the way I came to my conclusion was letting it sit for a little while - you should take your time if you need it, don’t rush yourself or force yourself to make a decision on how you feel. When I was ready, I did ask myself a few questions about it. I mainly just thought on if I’d be fine with doing typically romantic things with a man as opposed to a woman, turns out I’d rather not do something like that with a woman at all, haha… A lot of people do try to envision themselves in the future, and who they see themselves with and what kind of life they think they’d lead.

I didn’t do that, though. So I can’t really say if it helps. I think that’s- most of what I wanted to say. Expect uhh- there’s not- a tax, Hajime.

mh…

*Hinata blinks, groaning as he wakes up once again. He squints at the clock. 8:30, because Hinata Mod has no concept of real time.

He stays there for a minute or so before he remembers what happened. What he’d said. What he’d almost said.

An overwhelming feeling of dread twists in his stomach and he screws his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and dropping his head onto Komaeda’s shoulder— oh God, Komaeda. How was he gonna explain himself to them?*

(My life is over…)

@ultimatesomething-1191

[Komaeda was a sound sleeper, weirdly enough. By now, he would’ve woken up at least once from some sort of night terror, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep for more than an hour at a time or something at least, but with Hinata he slept just fine.

They had let themselves get wrapped in Hinata’s arms, entangled in their sleep and seemed to be relatively comfortable. But almost as if he knew Hinata was distressed, he began to shuffle, slowly waking up without saying anything at first.]

…

[houseofwolvess]

ow. my thigh kinda hurts now

[itspileofgoodthings]

had a very nice realization about peace, especially spiritual peace, the other day. (Been brewing for a while.) and it’s just: peace is for the non-peaceful.