#someone stop time until i figure this out

[purplesaline]

Are vaccines dangerous?

Absolutely they can be. But they are less dangerous than the illness they help protect you against.

Anything the vaccine can cause the illness has a higher chance of causing.

Are you guaranteed to get the illness though? Well thay depends on the illness, and a bunch of other variables such as how much time you spend around other people and whether you're protecting yourself with equipment like masks, and whether you're washing your hands often etc.

So let's say the vaccine has a 5% of causing X and the illness has a 30% chance of causing X. The vaccine makes more sense right? Unless, maybe, you live alone out in the middle of nowhere and have maybe a 2% chance of getting the illness. I'd take those odds for sure!

But most of us don't live like that and most of us have a far higher chance of getting the illness.

Most of us also live around people who have compromised immune systems or are otherwise at higher risk of complications. You getting through vaccine means they have a lower chance of being infected by the illness.

Vaccines aren't perfect and we aren't trying to pretend they are. They're like seatbelts in a car. Sometimes people are more seriously injured in a car accident because they were wearing a seatbelt (happened to me!), but the vast majority of the time wearing the seatbelt is gonna prevent more serious injury, or even death.

I knew someone who almost died after getting the flu vaccine. She developed Guillain-Barre syndrome, a rare but known complications of the flu vaccine. She was at the point where her lungs had started to become too weak for her to breathe properly and thankfully that was the point she finally started to recover. It was a really scary experience and for awhile after that I stopped getting the flue vaccine until my mom got cancer again and I decided the risk to me was less than the risk to her.

I also didn't know about any of the post-viral conditions that illnesses like the flu can trigger or I'd never have stopped getting vaccinated. I have one of those now. I had been vaccinated that year but vaccines don't cover everything. I was bedridden for nearly 5 years before figuring out what was happening and starting treatment. A few different treatment attempts I found one that helped. A year later and now I can manage a task or two a day and I can stand for 30 minutes at a time most days! This is a vast improvement for me.

And yes, there is a risk with some vaccines of developing a post-viral condition, but again it's a far lower risk than if you get the illness.

Vaccines aren't 100% safe, but then neither is any of the other safety equipment we trust our lives too. What it boils down to is a simple risk assessment. If you lay out all the risks on each side and you genuinely have more on the vaccine side then yes, don't get vaccinated. In fact please don't! If it's weighted the other way though? Please don't blindly pretend the risks aren't as great as they really are just so you can feel like you're on the right side of some argument.

Research the risks associated with the vaccines and actually look at what the chances of those risks happening are. Don't just assume "vaccines cause blood clots" is the entire story there. Research the illness and look to see if the same risks crop up there (they most likely will). Gather all the info and then make an informed decision about which is right for you.

So I reblogged that “vaccines cause adults” post from @copperbadge and predictably my inbox has gone to shit with a handful of people asking me how I can “trust” vaccines and if you’re looking for me validate your fear mongering over vaccines causing autism, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place.

I’m the bitch that has anaphylactic reactions to vaccines due to my mast cell disorder and still turn up for my Covid booster shots with my epi pen in one hand and a fistful of Benadryl in the other.

I had reactions to all my MMR boosters and every other booster I’ve ever needed and I still show up because I look at the choices and I prefer the risk of potential immediate death over potentially getting shit like measles and spreading it to the wider community.

The only one I don’t get is the flu shot because the speed at which I react is terrifying and it’s in my file that I’m not allowed it anymore. Doctors made that decision for me, I didn’t.

My MCAS might make me a crunchy hippy dippy bitch against my will, but I’m a science based crunchy hippy dippy bitch and vaccines do not cause autism.

Measles will fucking kill your kid though.

[unluckilyimnot]

Bed chem – trafalgar law

You have nightmares and happen to bump into your captain in the middle of the night. ~2k

Note: first one piece post, not the last, i just restart reading it. made this late last night. My bsf told me it was nice so here it is

main m.list | m.list | rules

It was the middle of the night when you woke up from yet another nightmare. You’re gasping for air, having a hard time collecting your thoughts and grounding yourself. Tears peak at the corner of your eyes – you need to get away from this feeling. So you get up, not bothering to put some pants on based on the hour and go looking for a glass of water. Chills can be seen on your arms, but you swear yourself you’ll be quick. You walk fast around the ship you know now like the back of your hand, you’re not really looking, not bothering turning the light on – until you hit into someone right in front of the kitchen.

“Shit.” You cursed before you can even make sense of who’s in front of you. He turned on the light, that way can finally see your captain, bare chest, making his way to the kitchen as well – you figured. If you had a hard time grounding yourself, hitting your nose right in Law’s chest was very efficient. You didn’t mention how he’s dressed, neither does he for you. There’s just a knowing look between you two.

“Couldn’t sleep too ?” you ask, walking in the kitchen and getting your needed glass of water while he took an apple.

“No.” He waited a moment, enough for you to finish your glass in one go, before asking, absently. “Nightmares ?”

There’s a long silence, more comfortable than you’d expected. He knows what he’s talking about, you don’t need to hear him saying it – you just know. That’s probably not the first time he hears you wandering around the Polar Tang at night, and it’s certainly not the first time you hear him either. You’re always awake around the same hours, but it’s the first time you ran into each other.

“Yes.” You answer in the same tone.

He nods, taking a knife, then sits at the table. There’s chills on his back as well, but he doesn’t seem to care. You look away quickly, not wanting to face him when you just checked him out. You pulled another glass from the shelf, filling them both before sitting next to him. You lean slowly on the table ; your hands couldn’t reach the other side, but you still liked to try. You don’t really know why you sat next to him when you usually don’t even bother to check on him, but finding yourself in the same room as him, in the middle of the night, felt a little intimate. You liked it : sitting in silence, giving him a glass of water he didn’t ask for. It felt right.

Without a word, Law handed you an apple’s slice. You looked at it for a second, blinking twice before taking it. You took a bite, eyes glimmering at the sweet taste before he ate one himself. It goes on for a while. Law gave you another one after finishing his, and so on, until the apple was done.

“You want more ?” he asked roughly, his voice was deeper than usual from the late hour. When you shook your head he got up and threw it away, leaving the knife and both glasses  in the sink and leaned on the counter. You knew he was staring at your back, probably dying to ask something, just like you, but wouldn’t dare. Then he moves again, his hand brushing along your shoulders.

“Come with me,” he whispers, as if talking would push you over the edge. It wouldn’t, but you didn’t say anything. You look up at him, not knowing where this was going. A small frown formed on your face, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m not gonna eat you,” he snored before patting your shoulder gently.

You got up this time, following him in the dark hallway to his cabin. You stopped by the door, not daring to take a step ahead. There’s a twisted feeling in your guts, you’re not sure you can walk through the door and then leave the same. Law turns back to look at you.

“Let’s stay awake together, if neither of us can sleep,” he clears things out quickly, of course, but it still feels weird. Yet, you take that step and walk into his cabin as he closes the door behind you.

You don’t really know what to do at first, and now you feel really self-aware ; you regret the small pair of shorts you could’ve easily put on. Noticing you fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, he showed you his blanket, authorizing you to lay in his bed as he puts on a shirt before sitting at his desk. So you do. Let the warmth engulf you, drowning in his scent – you feel safe, finally, and your body understood it faster than you because you yawned quietly.

You're laying on your side, rolled into his blanket, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I sleep here ?”

“Sure,” he said softly after a moment, you can tell he wants to ask something else but isn’t sure. You fight to keep your eyes open for a few more minutes.

“Do you mind if I join ?”

“No.” You didn’t hesitate, maybe because you’re already half asleep. “It’s your bed.”

You hear him chuckles, but it’s far away already. Your eyes close slowly and you hold the sheet a little closer. You’re not even fully asleep when you feel his arms pulling you up and bringing you up to the pillow before he lays next to you. There’s space between you, but he’s radiating so much heat, you’re drawn to him like a moth to light. You don’t remember touching him, not really. You think you do but you can imagine it totally as well. You fall asleep with the weird feeling of his arm around your waist.

When you wake up the next morning, the sun is piercing through the round porthole falling right to your face. You roll away from it, hitting Law's arm. He’s covering his eyes but slowly moving as well. Your eyes are still half closed when you catch his also half asleep eyes. He groaned, stretching his arms above his head even if his limbs hit the wall. You pull the blanket closer to your face, hiding the small blush you can feel coming dangerously to your face.

He’s hot. His hair is a mess, his eyes shine with sleep after he yawns. It feels like cheating, seeing him so vulnerable. He doesn’t say anything, neither do you, not yet. He gets up before you, only putting pants on before giving you a shirt – longer than the one you wear at the moment, so you can go back to your cabin and change.

“I’ll make your coffee,” he says, finally, his voice still deep and rough from sleep.

Something flips inside you. You bury your head in your pillow before nodding. You hear the door close behind him and sigh, before groaning in the pillow. You take your head out of it, gasping for air a little, feeling so flustered. It feels weird thinking about it, you don’t even dare talking about it ! But it was nice. You slept well, you were hot all night, not curled up on yourself. It was comforting having him close, being able to touch him and hear him breathe. You shake your head. You don’t want to think about it.

But you do. It doesn’t leave your mind all day. You kept thinking about his arm around your waist you’re sure you didn’t imagine. How you just fell on him in the middle of the night, how he wanted to sleep at the same time as you, how you two woke up at the same time… You couldn’t help but think you two match each other too much.

Of course you noticed how well rested he looked as well, it didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in fact. He’s less on edge, a bit less firm in his words, he laughed at one of Sachi’s jokes – almost made the man choke on air. It wasn’t just you, he slept way better as well.

Yet neither of you mentioned it. You go on your days like you usually do, without looking at each other more than necessary, without lingering touch. It didn’t change anything, after all. Right ? It was a one time thing, you wanted to believe it.

Until you woke up again in the middle of the night later the same week. You went for a glass of water, like usual, but this time you stayed a little longer in the kitchen, waiting. You felt silly, but you kept your eyes on the ocean on the other side of the porthole with your glass still in hand. Until you hear him walking around the corner, the barely marked stop in his track when he sees the lights on before you imagine him walking in.

“You again ?” he chuckles but there’s no fun in his voice, only a strange softness you didn’t expect. Or maybe you did. You don’t want to think about it. You turned his way, smiling at him.

“Who else ?”

He’s still bare chest, he can still see the beginning of your ass because your shirt barely covers it but you don’t mind. He walks to you, stealing your glass from your hand before filling it and drinking.

“Nightmares ?” It’s your time to ask now as you stare softly his way. He turned around and leaned on the counter next to you, crossing his arms.

“Didn’t have time to fall asleep yet,” he cleared, but didn’t say he didn’t have some. You whine at his words.

“It’s three in the morning, captain,” you nagged. “You should try at least.”

“’Cause you do ? Then why are you here, almost every night, at the same time ?” there’s a mocking smirk on his lips – he’s not buying it.

“Well, yes, I do sleep. I’m just the best at it,” you pout a little, before laughing lightly. There’s nothing to laugh about, but the conversation made you laugh anyway. You miss the light in his eyes, and you for sure would never think his heart would ache at the sound. And yet. 

“We have a really good bed chem, Law,” you confessed after some time. You’re now leaned on the counter, leaving your head on your arms. He doesn’t dare look at you, you guess, because he’s suddenly stiff beside you. “We wake up at the same hours in the night. Fell asleep at the same time the other night, and woke up together as well,” you comment, not sure if you expected him to speak or not. “It felt nice,” you confessed, finally. “I slept well that night.”

He can see you half naked by now, but that’s only fair in your opinion. His eyes linger on your for a second before looking away and finishing his glass. “Yeah, me too.”

Your heart skips a beat at his word and you can’t help the smile on your lips.

“Can I sleep with you tonight ?” you ask, confidence showing up out of nowhere.

“Sure.”

He’s distant, not looking your way anymore as he pushes himself off the counter but he waits for you by the door, and he lets you choose the pillow you prefer. And he pulls you to his chest when you turn your back to him after saying goodnight this time, holding your waist so close to him you can barely move. But it’s fine, you’re not arguing that, not when you fell asleep so easily ; not when all your nightmares go away when he’s near.  

I might do another part, idk yet. Ace is gonna have his version too hihi. Let's me know if you liked it!

[maskedbyghost]

With possessive reader what is it gonna be like when she’s decided it time Simon proposes? Like is she a this is the ring you buy me girl or is she a it’s a shame I don’t have a ring to show off to the bitches who dare to flirt with you girl?

I love your series so much! ❤️❤️❤️

I think possessive!reader is absolutely the “it’s a shame I don’t have a ring to flash at the girls eye-fucking you from across the room” kind of girl.

You’re not shy about it. You’re not coy. You don’t drop sweet little hints about marriage—you make it a goddamn territorial threat.

You don’t care about the wedding, you don’t care about the diamond, you just care about making it publicly known that Simon Riley belongs to you and no one else.

Something permanent. Something no one can argue with. You don’t want a pretty proposal under the stars; you just want a visible warning label on your man.

You’re out one night with him and a few of the guys, tucked into his side with your drink in hand, and you’ve already noticed the two girls sitting at the next table who won’t stop glancing over. They’re not even trying to be subtle about it—giggling, whispering, giving him looks that make your blood boil. Simon hasn’t noticed. He’s relaxed, laughing with Johnny, focused on his beer, and not paying attention. But you are. Of course you are.

You don’t even bother whispering when you say, “Y’know, if I had a ring on my finger, bitches might stop thinking they’ve got a shot.”

Simon turns and just stares at you. His mouth opens, then closes again, like he’s trying to figure out whether to be offended or terrified. You just keep sipping your drink, resting your hand on his thigh like nothing happened.

“Not asking,” you add. “Just saying. Might be smart to lock it down before someone gets hurt.”

Johnny chokes into his drink, but Simon doesn’t laugh. He just squints at you like you’ve grown horns, making you smile sweetly.

Later, back home, you’re in bed scrolling through your phone, and he leans over your shoulder to see three tabs open—engagement rings, all wildly different styles. When he raises an eyebrow, you don’t even try to hide it.

“What?” you say. “Just wanted to see what those other girls won’t be getting.”

He groans, mutters something about you being a menace, and rolls over with his arm flung over his eyes. You toss your phone aside, climb over him, and sit on his chest until he looks at you.

“I’m not saying you need to propose tomorrow,” you say, tone way too casual. “But I am saying if another girl makes a joke about how available you seem, I will propose to myself with your credit card and then beat her with the receipt.”

He looks up at you with that stunned face, like he’s not sure if he should argue or marry you right there.

You lean in, press your forehead to his, and whisper, “Just think about it, yeah?”

And yeah. He will. Right after he survives being so deeply and dangerously wanted by someone who’s already one bad look away from proposing for him.

And the bitch actually proposes after a fight one day.

You were on the couch, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the TV that wasn’t even on, trying to look unbothered even though your heart was still thudding from everything you’d screamed at each other half an hour ago.

Then, out of nowhere, he stopped in front of you.

“You think I’m leaving?”

You blinked up at him, annoyed already. “Did I say that?”

“No. But you look like you’re waiting for it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

His hand went into his pocket. You almost laughed—because really, what now? Another excuse? A lighter for a stress smoke? A grenade?

But then he dropped something into your lap.

A ring.

You stared at it, your mind blank.

He didn’t kneel, didn’t soften. He looked exhausted and angry and—himself.

“You wanna throw shit at me for the rest of our lives? Fine. Say yes.”

You blinked again.

“I wanna fight with you and make up with you and argue about fucking curtains and then fuck you until the neighbors call the cops. Got it?” His voice cracked a little. “So say yes. Because I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

You picked up the ring and slipped it on like it was always meant to be there.

And then, without even looking at him, you muttered, “I was gonna carve my initials into your chest tonight but I guess this works.”

He sat down next to you with a groan and covered his face. “Fuckin’ psycho.”

You leaned into him, proud. “Yours.”

----------------------------------------

fuck me i love them so much you guysss.... also, thank you for the request love <3333

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs

[sqgeism]

haii!! Can I ask the reaction of amphoreus men to the reader don’t feel like they deserve them and feeling guilty about it? 🙏

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 if i'm turning in your stomach | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; am i making you feel sick ? he's so.. happy with you, and you don't seem to understand. they're in the glory and light as a chrysos heir, what could have possibly be seen in you for them to ever want to share that light?

love mail — haiii anonnie ! thank you for requesting :D in this fic, i mention the very likely theory of phainon being kevin from hi3 ! it isn't a major plot point but it is mentioned so if ure confused dont worry so am i ヽ(´Ａ`)ﾉ love u guys mwah ! 2/5.

now.. anaxa isn't a fan of gossip, accepting words at face value is foolish. especially he is a man from a field of alchemy, trying and testing until he sees results. in this case, the truth.

but when a mutual companion, that babbling blue haired student of his, tells him that you've been feeling rather.. sad recently, he was determined to find out why.

in your defense, you were never meant to have him figure out, but this concoction you were working on was really starting to get on your nerves. you figured anaxa was still at the academy, so you were free to yell at the vial of glowing liquid like you could peer pressure it into getting it to cooperate. "stupid, stupid." you grumbled, your fists curling into a ball on the table. "i hate this, why can't i just... be like anaxa? he must feel ashamed with me. i can't do something as simple as a healing potion, after all."

you know these words aren't true, but you can't completely erase the fact you still feel them. your boyfriend was praised for his expertise in his field, couldn't you at least have learned something?—

it was then that you felt someone press up against your back, head leaning over your shoulder as anaxa sighs. his hands wrap around your waist, looking at your face like you're the moon. "your ingredients are perfect, dove. down to the measurements, but i'm sure your error comes from your order of mixing. listen to me, start with.."

you listen to his guide, trying to perfectly replicate the sequence as he speaks, but it's distracting. he hasn't.. stopped looking away from you while you work. not to mention, his hands trace the curves of your waist, as if keeping your body to memory. his sultry voice in your ear is NOT helping either.

"i heard you, you know." he mumbles, shifting his head to press kisses to your shoulder blades, somewhat relishing the way you shiver.

"do you really think i'd ever focus my time on someone who self proclaims their inadequacy?" you don't answer. "your intelligence is unmatched, dove. i couldn't think of anyone with a brain like yours, while also having a heart kind enough to open a man like me."

his advances move up to your neck, and at this point, the potion is long forgotten. your hands are too shaky to focus anyway. "please.. never think you're not good enough for me. i couldn't handle you leaving me for false truths."

your husband is a literal king, warrior, and an unmovable force.. you wonder why he settled down with an ordinary mortal. you're not quite in the spotlight, and instead, a humble historian. which means you're well versed in mydei's tales, especially ones pertaining to his past. according to rumor; mydei is fated to fall for someone for all of eternity, they were originally a warrior sworn to him, but had died tragically for mydei in the middle of a battle, in fear that the enemy had possibly been able to reach his weakest spot. after a desperate plea from the gods, they had been kind enough to have his lovers soul reborn every time they've come face to face with death. you.. were apparently the first one he's met ever since 'your death'.

and while you're.. comforted by that idea, the fact that you're fated to find mydei in every life you'll live, you also feel.. unsure. had the chrysos heir fallen for you, or for someone you used to be. and you could never really live up to be who you were.

that person was a warrior, one mydei cherished like his other half, and the myths of the two of them are romantic. how he spent hundreds of years mourning them, how they haunted his narrative. could he ever truly love who you are now?

"sweetheart?"

mydei's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you come back to reality—surrounded by your ancient maps and history. you're in your study, staring down at one of the many books written on the chrysos heirs. "are you staring at that old thing again? i told you, i don't like the way they drew me in that book." his laugh makes you feel guilty, you aren't even sure why. something about his love feels undeserving.

when you don't reply, he realizes you're not quite on a page about him.. but about you. your past life.

mydei knows how you feel about it, you've talked about it under the moon with him in hopes that its light will keep your secret safe. but he knows reassurance won't fix your insecurity easily, he needs time, and he'll give you all of it. he's waited to find you for all these years, what kind of man would he be to make you think you're anything less than precious?

carefully turning your body to him, his hand trailing up your cheek as he feels his heart ache. "sweetheart, my darling.." before he can even finish, you lean your head against his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat in silence. "mydei, do you promise.. that this heart is mine? you.. you aren't after someone who i once was, and rather who i am now?"

he knows he'll have time to give you proper reassurance, but he knows you just need a few words now. "i promise, with all i am, that i have fallen in love with you all over again. and that i am yours, body and soul."

with all the mystery that surrounds your boyfriends identity, you can't help but think about it as well. do you.. really know him? does he not trust you to know him? you aren't sure. maybe you aren't as special as you thought you had been, that phainon's sweet words of how much he loves you are.. false prayers.

but you have no reason to doubt him, he's never stayed out too late or hung around people that made you question his motives, he's a good man. and you're starting to think that you don't deserve him for doubting that.

the idea clouds your mind the whole day, and for aeon's sake.. you and him are having a date night at his place. he notices it quickly, how your mind just can't seem to focus. how you move away from his touches and hesitate with every kiss, was there something troubling you? was he troubling you? that's when he's had enough of the lack of communication, he turns off the tv, pulls the blankets down, and gives you a confused but also rather upset look. "honey, what's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?

he holds his hand out to you, but you move away, the cold shoulder has never been so sweet. "phai.." you hesitate to finish your sentence, but phainon waits.

he's been known for his patience, he always has been. he was a composed man, a gentleman, he could surely hold himself togethe—

"am.. am i really anything special to you?"

he feels his heart sink to his stomach.

there's an sting that he's never quite felt before, overwhelming his body greatly. he's sure he can hear his heartbeat, or perhaps lack thereof, it's as if his world has stopped at those words.

you've begun to tear up now. "i don't know i just.. the people have been telling me things— and i'm realizing now that i don't.. i don't really know anything about you and.. i.. i'd want to get to know you better, but i understand if you don't want to, and don't trust me but—"

seeing you cry makes him remember something distant, a life he once lived in a different world. making someone he also loved so dearly cry because of what he's done.

phainon crumbles, moving closer to you to wipe your tears. you two are face to face now, his lips only a breath away as he's reminded why he loves you so much.

you're you, so human, so selfless. how could he be blind to your struggle, when he claims to watch you so carefully? "oh, angel. i'm so.. so sorry. there are things i cannot tell you yet, but i can tell you that i could never let my heart be taken by anyone else."

feather light kisses press against your eyelids, and you shudder at the contact. "sweet, sweet angel. please don't cry. i promise i'll make it up to you one day."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[syrecjh]

──.✦🪐♡ Only You at Midnight

˚🎀༘⋆ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

Bakugo has a bedtime. A strict one. Lights out at eight, no nonsense, no distractions, no excuses.

Which is why it never makes sense when he’s the one knocking on your door at 11:47 p.m. Hoodie half-zipped, hair still damp from a shower, muttering, “You comin’ or what?”

You never ask where you’re going. Sometimes it’s the roof to stargaze—just the two of you, sitting shoulder to shoulder under a sky heavy with secrets and constellations. Sometimes it’s the vending machines three blocks down where he insists you split two cups of the spiciest instant ramen, even if it makes you cry. Sometimes he just wants to play a dumb card game in the common room where no one can see the rare curve of his smile when you win.

And sometimes—most times—it’s silence.

The kind that’s not awkward, not empty. Just full of unspoken things. Of comfort. Of home.

You sit beside him, knees barely touching, and you swear he always leans just the slightest bit closer once he thinks you’re not looking. You never call him out on it.

You should. You should say something. About the way your chest feels full to bursting with things you shouldn’t be feeling for someone like him. About the way your name sounds softer when he’s the one saying it at midnight, like it’s only meant for him.

But you don’t.

Because he’s Bakugo Katsuki. And people would find it weird and would ask, Why him?

Why the guy who glares first, speaks second, and never says the right thing the first time around?

Why the guy who pretends not to care until you’re halfway out the door and he’s already following behind, coat in hand?

Why the boy who hides all his softness behind a snarl—and only ever lets you see past it?

You don’t know how to explain it.

That you’re falling in love with the way he shows up when no one else does. That somehow, between stargazing and spicy ramen, he’s become your safest quiet. That even though he never says the words, he means them—every time he knocks on your door instead of letting you sleep through the night.

You know this isn’t some storybook love. It’s quieter. Rougher around the edges. Made of small moments and even smaller confessions.

But it’s real.

You don’t know when it started—maybe the night he handed you his hoodie without asking. Or when he stayed behind after classes, saying nothing but waiting anyway.

Or maybe it was always there. Just waiting to burn quietly beneath the surface.

Bakugo's the only one who drags you out after midnight, even when he’s the one who obsesses over sleep schedules and training regimens. He’ll grumble, yeah. Say you’re lucky he can tolerate your company.

But somehow it’s always you he shows up for.

And tonight, when he shifts beside you and mutters, “You good?”—his voice unusually careful—you turn your head and finally ask,

“Why do you always ask me to come with you?”

He freezes for a moment, chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth.

You see it—that tiny flicker in his expression, like you caught him off guard. Like maybe you weren’t supposed to ask that yet.

The silence stretches between you, heavier than it’s ever been.

“Dunno.” he mutters, but it’s a little too fast. A little too forced. But he doesn’t look at you when he says it.

You almost laugh—almost.

Because that’s not the part that hurts.

It’s what he says next, under his breath, just barely loud enough for you to catch:

“...Figured you’d stop coming if I said the real reason.”

Your breath catches. But before you can say a word—

he stands up.

“C’mon. You’ll get sick out here.”

And just like that, it’s over.

Or maybe it just started.

[bartxnhood]

god given solace | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: in which bucky realizes just how in love he is with you.

w/c: 1k

a/n: hey guys!! i know you must get tired of me saying the same thing lol but i decided to write again. i have been sooo busy these past few months. trying to navigate adult life with graduation and my new job, plus i had a surgery that knocked me off my feet but i have been ITCHING to write. so, even though this is small, i hope you all enjoy!!!

Copyright © 2025 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧

bucky never knew he could love until he met you. all of those sleepless nights, begging, praying to any gods out there just to make them stop. he just wanted peace, no more war, no hydra, no night terrors, and no more fighting.

he wasn’t aware that love is what he so desperately needed. someone to soothe those nightmares, to hold him close and hush him during the worst moments of his life.

but, bucky was convinced he was not capable of being loved. because, who in their right mind would love someone as tortured and damaged as him?

after all, that’s what he was. damaged goods.

but you? god, you were the purest things he had ever seen. you were like an angel that came before him, cascading in white light and warmth every time your gaze lingers on the super soldier.

even now, watching you from the doorway of your shared balcony, bucky finds himself unable to take his eyes off your frame. sometimes, he felt pathetic for the life he harbored for you. trapped in the memory of your first encounter.

relishing in the memories that he looked back on so fondly.

you, the angel, being the only person who could see through bucky. through the “i’m fine” and the “don’t worries” he’d spill, you never put up with his lies.

“you can’t fool me, barnes” you’d say while wrapping your arms around his midsection. bucky sighed as he rubbed his temples, “i know..” there was absolutely no fooling you.

“you can tell me anything, buck..” you pressed a kiss on his shoulder, just above where the metal began.

“does it hurt?”

bucky shakes his head, “no, not right now.”

he’d find himself leaning against the glass door, his eyes trained on your figure as you lean against the metal railing. the skyline of brooklyn in the distance, the moonlight shining on your skin, which only convinced him further into believing you were some sort of angel that was meant for him.

you could do no wrong in his eyes, you could commit a thousand crimes and bucky would still look at you like you hung the moon and stars for him. still, in the end, he felt satisfied knowing that you were his. his to shower with affection, to whisper sweet words in the middle of the night as your bodies lie tangled beneath the sheets of the dark bedroom. not even death could pry you from him.

in the beginning, he tried his hardest not to succumb to his feelings for you. he didn’t want to get attached because attachments always lead to heartbreak, and bucky didn’t know if he could handle another heartbreak.

but you were incredibly persistent, and ultimately it worked.

“i love you..” the words would spill from his lips like honey; the words came so naturally for him, easy as breathing.

the worst left a sweet taste in his mouth.

you turn on your heels just as those words left his lips.

“what?” you laugh, not at him though, but because it was random and very rarely did he. not that he doesn’t love you, but because he doesn’t want the words to lose their meaning.

“i love you,” he repeats as he walks towards you. his hand finds home on your lower back, his fingertips memorizing the texture of your skin that peeked from your sleep shirt.

you smile, hands coming to rest on both of his forearms, and for just a moment, bucky swore he could feel the warmth of your touch against his bionic arm. if he closed his eyes, he could picture it.

“i love you too, james.” you called him every nickname in the book, but sometimes it felt better calling him by his real name. especially in an intimate moment like this.

your brows furrow, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll slip from his grip. like you’re a figment of his imagination. “what’s wrong..?” you inquire, hands moving from his arms to the base of his neck. fingers entangling with his hair.

bucky shakes his head, “nothing, i just..i just love you s’all”.

you smile, looking into his baby blues that held so much affection when looking at you. like you were the only thing in the universe.

he loved spending his time with you, being in your presence, wrapping his arms around you, and finding peace. no nightmares, no flashbacks, no regrets, just you. just your soothing voice, the stillness of your breathing as you lie next to him. he was so in love with you.

“you are so..beautiful..” bucky found it hard to find a word to describe you. you weren’t just beautiful, you were so much more. you carried this gentleness about you that made him feel at home. home. you were his home.

a smile spreads on your face, a quiet giggle stuck in your throat as you watch his eyes rake over your figure. “bucky..”

“m’serious,” he mumbles. he pulls you closer against his frame, his lips pressing fleeting kisses just below your earlobe.

“you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, your hands still resting at the base of his neck.

“mhm,” he’s still pressing kisses to your flesh, relishing in your signature scent. a gentle reminder that you’re real.

“buck,” your words cut him off, hands finding either side of his face. “cmon..what’s goin on?”

“i don’t say it enough.” he was reluctant to pull away, but he was looking in your eyes again. his hands moved from your lower back to your waist, now. thumbs massaging circles absentmindedly.

you press your lips into a thin smile, tilting your head to the side while your fingers push some hair from his eyes. “oh..bucky..”

“no,” he shakes his head.

“you are my god given solace, y/n. you know that?”

you’re a bit taken aback by his sudden words, your hands pausing their movements. “what?”

“i know it hasn’t been easy to love me, but you’ve been there for me” he’s rambling now, wanting to get his words out while he still has it on his mind. “you’ve shown me love, doll” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, letting it linger for a moment.

“you saved me.”

[16wolke11]

Notice Me - Lando Norris

A/N I just wanted to write something short and fluffy...Maybe one part of this was unsuccesful :D

WORDS: 2578

_____

Working with the Formula 1 team of McLaren wasn't my dream, but somehow, I still ended up working in their team after graduation. Slowly making my way up from simple duties, nothing with much responsibility, until I reached one of the upper levels of the PR team. Starting to work around the drivers, brainstorm for videos and content with the rest of the team and it feels like I am finally settled into the group.

Even though McLaren is paying me generously, I still like to take my bike to the headquarters. Only needing a fifteen-minute ride through some fields is as quick as driving a car. And usually that it is no problem, but right now it is pouring outside. I sigh at the thought of being drenched after seconds and that my clothes are probably going to be muddy after driving over the dirt road. Just when I want to step outside, someone calls my name.

When I turn around, I see Lando approaching. He and Oscar were at the headquarters today to film some stuff, spend time in the simulator and I am sure the bosses even squeezed a meeting into their time schedule. I like Lando, he is always friendly to the team, even though he does express when he isn't really interested in filming videos. But he knows we just do our job and in the end, he and Oscar usually still have fun in the end.

"Let me drive you home, it's on my route home anyways," Lando speaks up, gesturing outside and I look at him confused. My apartment being on his way home isn't exactly true, at least that's what I thought.

"I thought your house is on the other side of the city. Like...the opposite direction." I ask Lando with a hesitating voice, thinking I might have got something wrong in my memory, but he just laughs softly.

"Got me there." He admits, before adding, "Still, I don't want you to cycle through the rain." I bite on the inside of my cheek. This is a nice offer, but I can't take it. There is no way I am going to allow Lando to drive me home, taking a longer route to finally get home as well. He is spending so much time away from home and I don't want to stop him from doing it as soon as possible.

"But I need my bike to get here tomorrow." I quickly say, which is the truth, because currently I don't have a car and even though I could be walking or take the bus, I don't want to get up earlier, just because the bus leaves at such an impractical time. "And I need to shower anyway." I then add with a shrug of my shoulders. There is nothing better than taking a warm shower after being drenched in the rain. Lando looks at me for a moment, testing like he is trying to figure out if I just lied to him, before he shakes his head.

"Get in my car. I am going to pick you up tomorrow." Lando tells me and I can't let him do that.

"Lan..." I try to speak up, but he just cuts me off.

"Not discussing that." I look at him, debating with myself, but decide that I am not in the mood to discuss this with him.

"Fine." I huff and let Lando lead me to his car, which is luckily parked on the covered part of the parking lot. He puts on the heater during the drive, and I sigh to myself, maybe it isn't too bad being driven home instead of cycling through the rain, being miserable.

"Thank you." I mutter to Lando, who just smiles proudly of himself for getting what he wants.

The weeks go by, and the season starts again, but I stay working at the headquarters. Not long enough in the team to be in for a race weekend yet, or more, not on the rotation list yet. McLaren tries to give the team a balance between being away from home and being able to stay with their families and as much as I appreciate it, I still would like to experience a weekend at the track, preferable sooner rather than later. Being occupied by racing again, Lando and Oscar aren't as often at the headquarters as before, but still come by from time to time.

"You are in early." I notice when I step into the room where we film the teammate videos and Lando is already spread out on the couch. Usually, he stumbles into the room last second, looking like he would fall right back asleep if we let him.

"I can be on time." Lando huffs, sitting up, before he stretches his arms and adds, "If I want to."

I laugh at his words and start to prepare the room for filming. Open the windows for some fresh air, get the scripts for the video. All that was followed by Lando's eyes. At one point, I frown and look at him, no longer accepting being stared at.

"Everything okay?" I ask him and Lando flinches like he is deep down in his mind. Then he reaches for his backpack, pulling out a bag from a bakery. I lean my head to the side when Lando holds out the bag to me and I hesitantly grab it.

"I got you these." Lando mutters, eyes now looking everywhere but at me and I open the bag to look inside. There it is, my favourite pastry in all its glory. The cinnamon smell immediately flooded around me and I looked at Lando in awe.

"You got me franzbrötchen?" I ask him, eyes wandering back to the pastry which I love so dearly, but just don't manage to get in England. Craving them from time to time, but not talented enough to bake them myself.

"You said you liked these, so I brought them for you." Lando shrugs his shoulders like it is no big deal, but I know how difficult it is to get these. And yes, I tried so many bakeries that I lost count of them.

"Where did you get those? I am searching for a bakery selling them forever." My voice is excited like a child on its birthday, and I really hope it is not one of those high-end bakeries that are way too expensive. Well, I might even pay the price if that means I get to eat my favourite pastries again from time to time.

"That's my secret." Lando grins mischievously and adds, "But if you are nice to me, I will bring them more often."

There is a soft smile on my lips, and I can't do anything to be happy about this gift. "Thank you, Lan."

Finally, my first race weekend has come and even though it might be stressful, I still can't get the smile off my lips anymore. Right now, I am on my way to get Oscar and Lando for a bit of filming, but stop in my tracks when I hear them talking. Knowing it is not nice to overhear them, but can't stop myself from doing so.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Oscar. It is like she doesn't even notice me." Lando groans and I tilt my head to the side. I have never heard him be so desperate and I wonder who the girl he is talking about is. Ignoring the soft ache inside of me, I keep listening to them talking.

"Maybe you just need to tell her and not only show her." Oscar suggests and I think that's good advice. Sometimes words are better than actions, even though sweet actions are still a great way of showing feelings. It sometimes just needs a little bit more. "And embarrass myself because she doesn't like me, no thanks." Lando huffs and my heart clenches at his tone. Looks like he is really in love with someone.

"Did you ever think about the possibility that she might also be like you, but isn't sure if you are just nice to her." My heart beats quicker, part of being scared of getting seen listening to the boys and part because it gets me thinking. Lando does do some nice things for me, but that could mean nothing. Or?

"I am not letting a baker specifically make someone's favourite snack or drive them home in the rain, so they don't get sick." Lando's voice is so low now that I need a minute to realise what he said. Getting the favourite snack, especially made for someone...that sounds like the time he got me my favourite pastries and the thing with the rain? Slowly, more pieces click into place, and I step around the corner, deciding I've listened to enough of their conversation.

Oscar spots me first, eyes widening just slightly, but Lando has his face buried in his hands and doesn't notice. I take a deep breath, trying to act like nothing happened, but every time I look at Lando, my heart stumbles again.

"Boys, are you ready for the filming?" I speak up, startling Lando to look upwards. His eyes glimmer with frustration, but I feel like I have to act like I don't notice anything is wrong. Like, I just stepped around the corner and didn't hear him confessing his crush on me.

"Sure." Oscar is the one to answer and then we just go on with our day.

It only takes for Sunday to come until Lando snaps. I wanted to give him time, give myself time to think about everything and doubt all of it. Did he really mean me? Of course he did. Do I want to make the first step? Hard pass. Would it be better to give him signs that I like him as well? Totally. Still, I don't dare to say something, not before the race anyway.

Right now, I am chatting with one of Lando's mechanics. I am amazed by what they are doing every weekend. How they manage to tweak the car exactly like the boys like it and it kind of makes my work feel small. Like it isn't important. He tries to explain me stuff, but when I look at him, more than confused, we both just burst into laughter.

Just then, fingers curl around my wrist and with a harsh pull, I am forced to walk. "Lando, what?" I ask him, almost stumbling behind him while he pulls me away under the confused looks of the mechanics. Lando doesn't look at me, just keeps pulling me behind him until he reaches an empty door, slamming the door close behind us.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask him, trying to lower my voice, but the anger and confusion are bubbling inside of me. Rubbing my fingers over my wrist, trying to ease the soft ache, while Lando just paces up and down.

"What is wrong with me?" He asks like I am imagining things, before huffing, "What is wrong with you!?" I blink at him once, twice, not even knowing what I did wrong from his point of view.

"I just chatted with one of your mechanics, you were the one pulling me away like a madman." I explain my side of the situation and finally, Lando stops the pacing, but he doesn't look at me, eyes planted firmly on the ground.

"You were laughing with him." He mutters and I need a second to understand what he just said, before arching an eyebrow.

"And I am no longer allowed to have fun?" I ask him, leading to him ruffling his curls.

"Fuck, you are...I am just." He tries to explain, stumbling over his own words, before he starts pacing up and down again.

"Lan, what is wrong." I ask him, trying to keep my voice soft. When he doesn't react, I am the one grabbing him by the wrist and finally, he stops in his tracks, before whispering.

"I just want you to see me."

"I don't understand." I manage to choke out, not able to connect the dots, but then Lanno starts to ramble.

"And I just try to figure you out." He just starts and before he even really starts, the fog in my head is clearing up.

"You always have different songs stuck in your head and hum them without even noticing." Lando tells me and I blush a little, hating that I forget the people around me when I have a specific song stuck in my head and just hum a mixture of melody and lyrics.

"You make everyone around you feel wanted." He continues and I know Lando likes to observe his surroundings, but didn't know he thinks that about me.

"You scrunch your nose a little when you think about something." There is a soft smile on his lips, and I can't stop myself from offering him one back.

"And your favourite colour is blue! Not a bright one, but one like the ocean on a stormy day." Lando lets his voice trail off and my heart flutters. This isn't something everyone knows about me, but Lando listens, no matter how dumb or unnecessary the fact might be.

"Lan..." I whisper, trying to tell him about my feelings, but the words get stuck in my throat.

"Fuck, I fell in love with you months ago and tried to show you because I am not good with words, but if I have to stay away from you for any longer, I am going to explode." Before Lando starts his pacing again, I grab his second wrist, holding him in front of me.

"Can I kiss you?" I blurt out with a shaking voice, not knowing how to form the right words to confess my feelings for him. So why not show?

"What?" Lando asks back, eyes wide, flicking between my lips and eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask him, slowly, while looking at his face.

Lando doesn't even answer, doesn't nod his head, instead just leans down and lets his lips crash down on mine. Like he is afraid the moment is going to vanish if he hesitates.

It might not be perfect, a little too desperate, a little too messy, but kind of perfect for us. His hand holding up my chin, my fingers getting tangled in his hair, while my other hand rests right over Lando's heart. I try to stand on my tiptoes to get more out of his touch and he sighs softly against my lips. When we finally break apart, it is just for gasping for air. Mind not ready to be parted, but our lungs are craving for air.

"You have no idea how long I wanted to do that." Lando sighs, forehead resting against mine and his arms wrap around my waist to keep me close to his chest.

"I can imagine when I think of the time when all of your attention started." I smile at him and a laugh rumbles in his chest. Thinking back, I can figure out when his liking for me started and I don't know how I didn't notice earlier.

"I am sorry for not noticing earlier." I apologise to Lando, who just tightens his grip around me, whispering an "No need for apologising" and then presses his lips on mine to kiss me over and over again.

[pukefactory]

Can I request more Oliver from Threadville headcanons please?

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. A GARDEN IS A LOVE SONG .* :☆ﾟ.

✿ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Oliver X Reader

✿ Character(s): Oliver (Threadville)

✿ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

✿ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✿ Image Credits: @SleepyBlueii on X

❀ Oliver is the kind of guy who flusters when you brush dirt off his shirt. You barely graze his chest, and he practically sputters, tugging at his collar like it might let the warmth out. “Shucks, uh, thank ya kindly… I, uhm… I usually just let the wind take care of that, y’know…” His whole face turns the same color as a ripe tomato. But later, once you’re not looking, he sneaks a tiny flower into your pocket—morning glory, his favorite. “For bravery,” he says when you find it. “For touchin’ a muddy ol’ scarecrow like me without batting an eye.”

❀ When Oliver’s having a hard day—like when the worms chewed through his carrots again or Rocky gave him the stink-eye for three hours—he doesn’t tell you he’s sad. He just shows up at your door with his floppy straw hat pulled low and a half-baked rhubarb pie clutched in both hands. “It’s got too much sugar and not enough rhubarb, but… it still made me feel better makin’ it. I… I figured maybe you needed a slice, too.” He sits with you on the porch, legs swinging, watching the sun go down in silence. He never says what hurt, but your presence fixes it.

❀ He’s never really had a crush before. So when he realizes he likes you, really likes you, he reacts like someone told him the barn’s on fire. There’s panic. There’s pacing. There’s him staring into a pail of water whispering, “Oh, Jeepers. I like them.” Veena’s the one who finally corners him. “You’ve been sweeping the same patch of floor for ten minutes, Oliver.” “Shhh!” “Just tell them.” He tells you in the most Oliver way possible—by shyly handing you a bouquet made entirely of bee-friendly flowers and whispering, “Would ya… wanna be… my garden partner? Forever, maybe?”

❀ Oliver doesn’t just want to hold your hand. He wants to earn it. He asks things like, “Would it be alright if I held your hand now, if you’re not too busy?” and “I washed my gloves extra good this morning just in case you needed some help walkin’ through the thorns.” And when you do take his hand? Oh, he stares at it like it’s a rare fruit. Thumb brushing yours, trembling a little—but warm. So very warm. “You’re softer’n a plum,” he mumbles, and turns away so you won’t see his bashful grin.

❀ When you’re sick, Oliver panics like you’re dying. He makes five pots of soup and spills three of them. He fumbles your forehead with dirt-smudged hands until Veena yells at him to use a rag. But he refuses to leave your side. He curls up in a wooden chair next to your bed with his hat over his heart like he’s mourning your cough. “Don’t you go scarin’ me like that again, now. I thought… I thought the bugs had gotten ya. Not the sick bugs. The, uh… puppet ones. The scary ones.”

❀ He tells you the story about his dad under a blanket of stars one night, voice all shaky and eyes far away. “He had a hat just like mine. Mama said I was born with dirt on my hands and a weed in my hair…” You don’t say anything. You just rest your head on his shoulder. Oliver holds you a little tighter. “He’d’a liked you, y’know. Anyone brave enough to love a feller like me is someone worth sittin’ next to in the dark.”

❀ When he plays the piano for you, he always gets nervous and messes up the third chord. Every. Time. He insists it’s the piano’s fault, even though he built it himself. “I-it’s just got character! Just like me! Crooked but honest!” But when you hum along, he glances at you like you just lit up the room. And if you sit next to him while he plays? He stops pretending to be brave. He just lets himself feel—soft, and small, and so very safe. “Thanks for listenin’. I only get this brave when you’re nearby.”

❀ Oliver’s always asking if you’re eating enough. If your shoes fit. If you’re warm. If you’ve seen any wasps recently because he’ll personally go chase them off if he has to. “Y-you matter, okay? Even if you ain’t perfect at math or talk funny or like the weird kind of pie.” He says it like it’s a secret, like it’s something he’s not supposed to know but does anyway. “Just thought… you should know someone’s rootin’ for ya.”

❀ You catch him once—talking to your jacket like it’s you. “Miss ya already,” he murmurs, gently folding it and patting it like it’ll feel his touch. “Wish I could keep ya in my pocket or my hat. But I reckon you’d get dizzy in there.” He jumps when you walk in, face going bright red. “I-I was just, uh—foldin’! Just foldin’ things! Real productive like!” He won’t live it down for a week. But your smile makes the embarrassment worth it.

❀ Oliver doesn’t kiss like the heroes in his favorite romcoms. He doesn’t sweep you off your feet. He just leans in one day while you’re planting tomatoes, hands covered in soil, hair stuck to his cheek, and murmurs, “Could I? Just real quick?” And it’s gentle. Like the way sun catches on dew. Like the softest promise. When he pulls back, his face is pink, and he mutters, “W-wow. I-I’ll write about that one in my journal later.” Then he trips over a rake.

[maple-writes1802]

Sevika x reader angst!! (with a happy ending)

Someone badly hurts reader to get back at sevika since it’s known they’re in a relationship. Sevika realizing she’s endangering reader, distances herself from her so reader doesn’t get targeted anymore. Reader finds sevika after searching for her and begs her to stop running away from her. Sevika realizes that distancing herself from reader hurt her more deeply than the initial attack. She apologies and swears to never do that again :}

ship: sevika x reader

word count: 1843

tags: short break up, hurt/comfort, reconciliation, set in s1

The bedsheets feel cold, everything feels cold when Sevika isn't near you. It's been days since she left and respecting her decision becomes harder with each moment that is spent in her absence. Sevika was never a loud person to live with, but her presence was certainly felt. She emitted warmth like that of a lit fireplace and you were but an innocent passerby trying to ease the cold in your bones. Now, the cold is prevalent, making a home for itself deep within your chest.

You miss her.

You miss her gentle touches, the ever-present smell of whiskey, cigars and her own earthy musk. You miss her voice soothing you to sleep at night and coaxing you out of dreamland in the morning. You miss her hugs, feeling her eyes on you at all times, how she manhandles your body in moments of passion and then massages it until you're mush in her hands. You miss everything about her, the good and the bad.

But what were you to do? You swore to yourself you'd let her go if she wished to go. You wouldn't keep her caged.

But fuck if this wasn't the stupidest damn reason to leave. And it all happened because you weren't careful enough.

-flashback-

A weary sigh escaped your lips as you lock the store, finally closing down for the day. It's much later than you'd like it to be and usually Sevika would pick you up after your shift and the two of you would walk home together but lately she's been so stressed out with her own job, that you reassured her you'd be fine and insisted she went to bed early to get some proper rest.

You walk down an alleyway, not the safest part of the Lanes but definitely the quickest to your place. What you failed to notice, however, was a group of enforcers, three or four it you recall correctly, but your memory of the event is foggy at best. They were smoking and chatting, probably taking a break from harassing local Zaunites (or as they liked to call it, ''going on patrols''). The chatter stopped when they noticed you and, before you could turn back, one of them started walking towards you. Sensing the oncoming threat, you prepared to knee him in the crotch but he grabbed and yanked you towards them before you got the chance.

You remember receiving a knee to the stomach and the pain knocked you down onto the wet ground. What followed was a flurry of punches, jeers, kicks, spits, and insults. The more you tried to fight them off, the more violent they became. The only thing you could do was curl up in a ball and protect your head with your arms. Despite your best efforts, eventually the world sank into darkness and you were left to the mercy of your attackers.

The next thing you remember is opening your eyes and feeling confused, for instead of the cold, damp pavement you were met with the familiar warmth and softness of your bed. Forcing yourself to sit up, you groan as your body protests, but your eyes are already looking for Sevika. Feeling disappointment when she is nowhere to be seen, you try to comfort yourself, figuring that she's probably in the living room. That is, until your gaze lands on a piece of paper laying on the nightstand. Picking it up with shaky hands, your heart stutters when you recognize Sevika's handwriting.

To my soulmate,

I hope you're not in too much pain when you wake up. I did my best to bandage you up, but you've always been better at tending to cuts and scrapes than I was.

Hell, if this is how you felt every time I came home all bruised and bloody from a job gone wrong, then I am sincerely sorry for all the pain I put you through because I was damn near sure that my heart was going to give out on me when I found you in that alley.

Don't worry your pretty little head, the guys who did this to you will have to eat through a straw for the rest of their miserable, meaningless lives. They didn't get far before I caught up to them.

After making sure you're all clean and bandaged up, and handing those bastards their death sentence, I did a lot of thinking. And I decided that the only way to keep you safe was if I left. One of those idiots squealed before I broke his fingers and it turns out that the only reason they hurt you was because they knew who you were. And more importantly, they knew who you were to me. I guess their strategy was to weaken me by hurting you and using that moment of weakness to get to Silco.

Of course, that won't be happening given that I broke all their teeth and fingers. But I doubt they'll be the last ones to think of something like this. That's why, for your sake, it's best for me to stay away.

I love you, baby, and that won't ever change. But I can't live with myself knowing that you could get hurt because of me. I'm sorry, but I know you'll be okay with time. You're the strongest person I know and there are plenty of people out there who deserve you much more than I do.

Take care of yourself for me, give yourself time to heal and move on.

Forever yours, despite everything,

Sevika

P.S. You can keep the apartment and the cat, I got them for you anyways. Give the furball my regards.

By the time you finish reading her letter, several spots on the paper have already been coated by your tears. You could do nothing but curl up on the half-empty bed and sob your little heart out.

-end of flashback-

And now, all you can think about is how this change benefits neither of you.

Sevika is probably drinking her sorrows away, surviving on cigars and pure spite. Meanwhile, you're unable to last ten minutes without bursting into tears. Safety doesn't mean much to you if you have to give up the love of your life to attain it.

This is ridiculous. You think as you get out of bed, pulling one of Sevika's cardigans over your shoulders. You held it close these days, as a reminder of her presence. It smelled like her, although now her signature scent was fading away and you'd be damned if you had to spend the rest of your life without it. Without her.

You ignore your body's protests as you hastily put on some loose pants and shoes before running out of your apartment, almost forgetting to lock the door behind you.

Eventually, the Last Drop comes into view and you approach it with determination flowing through your veins. The bouncers immediately recognize you and step aside to let you in.

Once inside, the first person you notice is Ran, who, upon noticing you, mouths the words 'thank Janna' before pointing to a spot in the corner.

A lonely form sits there, slumped over a table and nursing a whiskey bottle while a lonely cigar burns out in an ashtray. You can feel your heart squeeze painfully at the sight of your beloved looking so defeated.

Sevika jumps like a wounded animal when you lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, her eyes wide when she turns around and spots you.

''What the hell are you doing here?'' she asks, trying her best to sound angry and intimidating but failing miserably. You were always her weak spot and you possessed the ability to see through her facade and spending some time apart couldn't change that.

''I'm here for you, asshole.'' you reply with a small huff and Sevika almost cracks a smile at our snarky response, she always loved your feisty side and being next to you makes her want to grovel for your forgiveness. But she holds back, barely upholding a displeased expression on her tired face.

''If you're gonna try and convince me to come back, then you're wasting your time, sweetheart.'' she grumbles and goes to have a swig of the whiskey but you snatch the bottle away before she can even smell the alcoholic drink. If the situation wasn't so serious, you would giggle at the childish pout she's giving you.

''Vika, baby, this is ridiculous.'' you mumble as you sit down at the table.

''Keeping you safe is never ridiculous.'' she replies, avoiding eye contact. ''It's my fault you got hurt. I should have been there.''

You sigh, she was always too selfless for her own good when it came to you, always taking the blame.

''Sevika,'' you begin, carefully putting your hands on top of hers. She flinches but doesn't pull away. ''We live in Zaun, bad things happen all the time.''

''But they shouldn't happen to you.'' She argues stubbornly, taking ahold of your fingers.

''I'm a grown woman, you can't protect me from everything. Pain is a part of life. And besides...'' you trail off, taking a deep breath as tears gather in your eyes. ''You leaving hurt a lot more than any beating ever could.''

Sevika's eyes widen at your words, her resolve cracking at the shakiness of your voice and the wetness in your eyes.

''Baby, I-'', she begins, but before she can utter an argument, you cut her off.

''No, Sev, just... come home. Please.'' you whisper, your tone on the verge of begging.

''I... this doesn't make sense without you and it's not fair to either of us. You promised me we'd work through everything together, jump over any hurdle that life throws at us. You can't just... up and leave as soon as we face a hurdle that's bigger than the ones before. We can go through anything together. There's no me without you and home isn't home if you're not there.''

You can see the gears turning in her head as she thinks your words over, her gaze peeled to your intertwined fingers.

''And what if someone tries to hurt you again?'' she whispers, more to herself than to you.

''You'll protect me.'' you reply without hesitation. ''And if not then you'll just have to patch me up and give me lots of kisses until I'm all better.''

''You always gotta have the answer to everything, huh?'' Sevika quips with a small grin, the quirk of her lips making her smile lines show.

''And you love me for it.''

''I do.'' she whispers, lifting one of your hands to her lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

''Let's head home. You've got lots of kisses left to give me.'' you remind her cheekily as you both stand up and prepare to head home.

''Anything for you, sweetling.''

...

''By the way, is that my sweater?''

''...it smells like you.''

''By Janna, I fucking love you, babe. You're too cute.''

''Love you too, Sev.''

A/N: whewww that turned out a lot lengthier than i planned! thank you for your request anon! this is the first piece i've written in a long while and english isn't my first language so i hope this wasn't too bad <3

[antianakin]

It's also a little sad that we got so little of Bail and Mon's relationship here because there's so many interesting implications from what we DO get that could've been more expanded on in a longer season/show.

Like, Bail and Mon clearly KNOW THEY'RE BOTH INVOLVED IN REBEL ACTIVITY. When did that happen? Does he know about her financial struggles? Did he know she was involved in the rebellion back when that was happening and she just didn't tell him what was going on? Does he know that she literally framed her husband and sold her daughter to a gangster to cover up her rebel activity? Did Mon know that Bail was involved in rebel stuff at this point and just didn't go to him for help because she didn't want to admit how much trouble she was in, or did she not figure that out until after she'd already married off her daughter? I'm SO intrigued to know more about how and when that information exchange happened and how it impacted their relationship with each other.

They also seem to really respect each other, Mon looks up to Bail and Bail respects Mon's skill set. Bail is the first person Mon goes to after the Ghorman Massacre to talk about how she's feeling. That's not even just respect, that's a really deep and genuine friendship. This is the first time we've seen Mon be able to actually CONFIDE in someone she trusts about all of this and how it makes her feel. She doesn't like or trust Luthen or Kleya really, she had to speak in code with Tay and then he turned on her, and she can't admit to it with Perrin or Leida at all. But Bail she has a CONFIDANT, a friend, a co-conspirator who can understand and comfort her. And it's hard to know if that's a relationship they had before that gets deepened when they both discover they share this secret, or if it's something that only happened AFTER they realize their rebel connection. Either way, it would've been so nice to be able to watch that grow more, to get to see Mon stop being so alone in a crowd all the time.

There's so many interesting questions we'll probably never get the answers to, and I find myself very intrigued by some of the implications of it all.

[throttleheart]

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Upstairs Noise, Downstairs Trouble

Pairing: Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri

Genre: Crack treated seriously, fluff, sugestive, non-descriptive sexual content

Word Count: <1k

Summary: Oscar’s new upstairs neighbor is loud. Not like TV-too-loud or walking-in-boots-at-3AM loud. No — he’s singing-abba-in-the-shower-while-dropping-weights kind of loud. Oscar files a noise complaint. The guy responds with apology gifts — that are somehow worse. Oscar plans to stay annoyed… until he reads the note. Now he’s doomed. Especially when he finally sees him.

⸻

Oscar lives alone. Quietly. Peacefully.

So when someone moves into the flat above and starts sprinting at midnight, blasting music, laughing out loud alone — it ruins him. Literally. Sleep? Gone. Sanity? Hanging by a thread.

He tries earplugs. Noise-cancelling headphones. Rage.

And finally, when the Mamma Mia karaoke starts again on a Tuesday morning at 8:32 AM — he snaps.

To: Building Management

Subject: Formal Noise Complaint – Unit 7B

Hi, sorry — I never do this, but the new tenant in 7B is extremely disruptive. Loud music, late hours, dropping heavy items, etc. Would appreciate if something could be done.

– Oscar Piastri (6B)

He expects silence. What he gets… is worse.

The next day, there’s a knock at his door.

No one’s there — just a box.

Inside:

• A giant chocolate bar. Unopened. Expired.

• A candle that smells like motor oil.

• A pair of socks that say “STOP BEEING SAD” with cartoon bees.

• A folded letter, written in messy black ink.

⸻

Oscar —

Sorry if I’ve been loud. I honestly didn’t realize. New place, new acoustics, apparently a loud voice and heavier feet than I thought. My bad.

I tried to pick stuff to say sorry — not sure if you like chocolate or bees or whatever, but I figured effort counts.

Anyway. I’ll try to bee quieter (haha get it?). Thanks for not just banging on my door or something.

– Lando (Upstairs)

P.S. I swear the weights fell by accident. I’m not that kind of gym guy.

⸻

Oscar stares at it.

Reads it again.

…and again.

He wants to stay mad. But something about the messy writing and dumb socks and the fact that Lando thought this would fix it makes him laugh out loud for the first time in days.

The noise lessens.

But then it starts again — softer this time. A voice. Singing.

Through the ceiling, muffled and low:

“My love is wider than Victoria Lake

Taller than the Empire State

It dives, it jumps

I can't give you more than that

Surely, you want me back”

Oscar rolls his eyes.

But a week later, when they pass each other in the stairwell for the first time — finally, face to face — Oscar’s entire brain short-circuits.

Lando is…

Shaggy-haired, hoodie half-zipped, smiling like he’s already gotten away with something. “Hey — 6B, right?”

Oscar blinks. “Yeah.”

“You must be Oscar.” Lando grins. “Hope the bees helped.”

Oscar stares. “They didn’t.”

Lando laughs.

And Oscar knows — in that split second — he’s so screwed.

⸻

They don’t even touch for weeks after that.

But the tension builds.

Soft greetings turn into lingering ones. They get coffee. Lando gives him a playlist. Oscar pretends not to memorize every track.

And then one night, after a bad day, Oscar knocks.

Lando answers in sweatpants, shirtless, damp curls, blinking like he just came out of the shower. “Everything okay?”

Oscar walks past him. Doesn’t speak.

Lando closes the door, heart suddenly pounding.

“Did I do something?”

Oscar turns.

“I read your letter again,” he says. Quiet. Then steps closer. “You said you’d be quieter.”

“Yeah—?”

“You weren’t.”

And then he grabs Lando’s jaw, pushes him back against the kitchen counter, and kisses him breathless.

Lando makes a noise that can only be described as whimpering.

Oscar pulls back just enough to breathe.

“You want me to stop?”

Lando’s voice is wrecked. “Not even slightly.”

⸻

They don’t make it to the bed.

Oscar ruins him on the couch.

Lando’s hoodie ends up on the lamp. One sock survives. The other is never seen again.

Lando is a puddle of giggles and flushed skin, buried against Oscar’s chest.

“You’re were pretty loud,” he whispers, breathless. “Not a good example.”

Oscar grins against his hair.

“I’m sure the neighbours don’t mind.”

⸻ ⸻ ⸻

[kakashisacademia]

pairing: Satoru Gojo x plus size reader | warnings: longing, reader thinking she isn’t enough, soft smut

summary; being on the softer side you never felt enough for someone like Gojo until he proves you otherwise

ೃ⁀➷ Love Me Like You Do

It starts like most days do. You’re in the staff room at Jujutsu High, grading papers and half-listening to Nanami explain yet again how Satoru Gojo is a menace to efficiency and structure.

“Do you know he gave Yuuji full marks for drawing a stick figure of Sukuna on a test?”

“Technically, he labeled it,” Satoru says from the doorway, biting into a pocky stick. “Artistic expression. I’m cultivating talent.”

You don’t look up, but you smile faintly. “You gave him extra credit for drawing abs on it, Gojo.”

“Hey, I appreciate anatomical accuracy.”

He crosses the room and plops into the seat beside you, chair far too close, knee brushing yours like it’s nothing. You shift subtly, cheeks warm. Satoru grins.

“Missed me?”

“No,” you say flatly, trying not to sound breathless.

He leans in. “Liar.”

His voice is low. Flirty. Effortless. And you know what he’s doing. He always does this, flirting like it’s a game. Teasing because he can. Because you’re safe and round and never taken seriously. Your chest squeezes.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you mumble, flipping a page in the quiz stack.

“Not when I can bother my favorite coworker.”

You snort.

“You called me wifey in front of the second years yesterday.”

“Did you see the way you blushed? Honestly, it was adorable.”

You freeze. Just for a second. He always does this. The compliments. The names. The little touches.

And every time, every single time… you tell yourself it’s just his way. It can’t mean anything. Not when you’re… you.

You’re not the kind of woman someone like Satoru Gojo wants. You’re too big. Too soft. Too ordinary beside his absurd brightness.

“Don’t do that,” you say quietly.

He blinks. You clear your throat and laugh, covering it. “Don’t flirt like that. You’ll give me a complex.”

There’s a pause. And then, Satoru tilts his head. “I already have, haven’t I?”

You blink. He leans forward, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses but his tone suddenly, too sincere.

“You always flinch when I call you pretty.”

“I don’t-” you start, but your voice wobbles.

“You do.” His hand settles over yours, gentle and grounding.

“I don’t flirt with people I don’t want, sweetheart.”

Your heart stops. The silence that follows his words is thick. You’re blinking at him, heart racing, trying to process what Satoru just said.

‘I don’t flirt with people I don’t want, sweetheart.’

It’s… a joke. It has to be. Your mouth open, but nothing comes out.

“I agree,” Nanami says calmly, not looking up from his paperwork. “You shouldn’t downplay yourself. You’re a good-looking woman. Objectively speaking.”

You freeze. Satoru’s head snaps toward Nanami like a bloodhound catching a scent.

“What?” You whisper.

Nanami glances up, sighs. “It’s simply a fact. You carry yourself well. You’re intelligent, competent, attractive. There’s no need for that self-deprecating attitude.”

Your mouth goes completely dry.

“Th-thank you?” you stammer, blinking like someone just unplugged your brain.

Satoru is staring. Hard. Nanami goes back to his papers. You’re still reeling. Because sure, Nanami’s compliment was matter-of-fact and completely platonic, but still… it hits something deep. Something soft and wounded.

You smile. It’s small, nervous. “That’s… probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me this month.”

Satoru doesn’t smile. He leans back slowly, arms crossed, head tilted. “Oh?”

His tone is light. Too light. You glance at him.

He’s got his sunglasses pushed up now, and there’s something unreadable behind them. His jaw’s tight. His grin doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Didn’t realize you liked guys in ties so much,” he drawls, voice a little sharp around the edges.

You blink. “Wait, what?”

“Nothing,” he says, waving a hand. “Just funny. You’ve never blushed like that when I say nice things to you.”

“B-because you’re teasing!” you say quickly, flustered. “You’re always teasing, Satoru, it’s not the same.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But if Nanami says it, it’s gospel?”

You stare. He’s pouting. Satoru Gojo, Top Sorcerer of Japan and probably the world, is pouting.

And you realize that, oh. He’s… jealous.

That dangerous, all-consuming brightness you always admired is flickering now with something darker. Something raw. Something you didn’t know was real.

“Are you seriously mad that Nanami called me pretty?” you ask, voice small but teasing.

“I’m mad that you heard him,” Satoru mutters.

And suddenly, you’re fighting a smile. Satoru is up before you can think to stop him. The chair scrapes back. His long legs stretch, his sunglasses pushed back into place with a dramatic sigh. He’s not looking at you now.

“Well, I’ve got places to be,” he says lightly, too brightly. “Can’t monopolize the gorgeous girls and the responsible paperwork guys.”

Nanami doesn’t even look up. “I’m not flattered, Satoru.”

“Wasn’t talking about you, Nanami.” His smile flickers. “But hey, thanks for finally saying what I’ve been screaming at her for years.”

Your breath catches. And then he’s gone. Just like that. The door shuts softly. Not a slam. But the quiet still rings too loud. You sit frozen for a moment, staring at the spot where he stood.

“You know,” Nanami says, his tone maddeningly neutral. “I don’t say things unless I mean them.”

“I know,” you murmur, voice small.

He flips a page in his folder. “So when I say you’re attractive, I mean it in the objective sense. No games. No ulterior motives.”

You nod slowly.

“And Satoru…” he adds, finally looking up, eyes calm but razor sharp. “He never says anything unless he wants something.”

Your stomach turns. “But he always flirts. With everyone.”

“He doesn’t look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

That silence again. Heavy. Personal. You push your papers away, suddenly too warm. Your hands tremble just a bit.

“I… can’t go there,” you whisper.

Nanami hums. “He’s loud. Chaotic. He doesn’t think things through. He’ll trample anything in his path.”

“I know,” you snap quietly. “I know. He’ll break me. If I fall for him, he’ll break me.”

Nanami doesn’t argue. He just goes back to his paperwork. Leaves the words hanging.

You sit back in your chair. Stare out the window. The sunlight is soft against the glass. And still you wonder. You imagine a world where he loves you out loud. Where his teasing means something. Where his touch lingers not because he’s playful, but because he aches for you.

You close your eyes. And in the silence, you dream of Satoru Gojo… And pretend you could be enough.

The mission was supposed to be simple. A minor curse. Quick containment. In and out. But it’s just the two of you and the house is too quiet. The air too heavy.

Satoru walks ahead, hands in his pockets, blindfold pushed up just far enough that you can see one of his eyes. He hasn’t stopped talking since you arrived. Correction: he hasn’t stopped teasing.

“You’re really cute when you’re mad, you know?” he says, glancing back with a grin.

“I’m not mad,” you mutter, scanning the shadows.

“Oh, so you’re just ignoring me for fun?”

“I’m focusing.”

He hums. “You weren’t this grumpy with Nanami.”

You stop. “Satoru.”

He turns to face you fully now. That grin of his is wide, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “What?”

“Are you seriously still mad about that?”

“I’m not mad,” he says, voice sing-song. “I just didn’t realize you liked the stoic salaryman type.”

You narrow your eyes. “And if I did?”

He blinks. Smiles. But it’s tight now. Brittle.

“Then I guess I’m just not your type, huh?”

“Satoru, don’t do this.”

“What?” he steps closer, way too close. “Don’t what? Don’t remind you that I’ve been here the whole time? Calling you pretty, telling you you’re powerful, brilliant, mine and you still look at me like I’m some kind of joke?”

You suck in a breath. His words hit like heat. Hot, desperate, a little dangerous.

“I don’t look at you like that.”

“Yes, you do,” he says, voice low now. Almost pleading. “You think I’m just playing around. That none of it means anything.”

“Why would it?” you whisper, not able to meet his eye. “You’re you, Satoru. You could have anyone.”

He exhales sharply. “I don’t want anyone.”

Silence.

“You’re right,” you say quietly. “You’re you. And I’m not enough.”

Something in his expression shatters. He steps forward again, cornering you gently against the hallway wall.

“Don’t say that,” he says roughly. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You blink, chest rising fast.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he whispers, hand lifting, not touching, but hovering just beside your cheek. “I flirt with everyone, sure. But I never want anyone the way I want you.”

You stare at him. And all that teasing, that fire, that aggression, it’s covering something else. Fear. Hope. Need.

He swallows hard.

“Please,” he says. “Look at me. Just once. Like maybe I’m someone you could love.”

He’s so close now. That cocky grin is long gone. His lips are parted, his breath warm where it ghosts over your skin. And his voice, his voice is real. Too real.

“Look at me. Just once. Like maybe I’m someone you could love.”

Your throat tightens. You want to. God, you want to look at him like that. To be that girl, the one he wants. But something inside you flares. Not desire. Fear.

Because if you let yourself believe him, if you look at him like you do love him. Then this might become the one thing you can’t come back from.

“I…” you whisper, voice trembling. “I don’t think I can.”

Satoru stills. You see it right there in his eyes, the flash of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, pressing back against the wall, trying to put even an inch of space between you.

His hand falls from the air like it’s been cut loose.

“Right,” he says quietly and you can’t look at him.

“I’m just,” you shake your head, hands clenched. “You don’t get it. You say all these things, but it doesn’t mean anything, not to someone like me. I’m not like the people you want. I’m not perfect.”

“You think I’m perfect?” he says, voice cracking on a laugh that isn’t really a laugh. “God. You don’t even know me.”

You finally glance up and the look on his face breaks you.

“I’m not perfect. I’m not stable. I’m not good at this. I flirt because it’s easier than feeling. I make people laugh so they won’t see how fucked up I am underneath.”

He steps back, finally giving you space, but it feels worse.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he says, softer now. “Didn’t want to show how serious I am. Because I knew the second I did you’d run.”

Silence. The cursed house groans around you. Dust shivers from the rafters. But in this moment, the real danger isn’t the curse. It’s the thing between you and Satoru Gojo, alive, fragile and burning.

“I’m not running,” you whisper. “I’m just not ready.”

He nods.

“Then I’ll wait,” he says, voice breaking just a bit. “I’ll wait. Even if it kills me.”

It happens fast after this.

One second, you’re clearing the last cursed room and the next, the air splits with a howl, and something massive explodes from the shadows. You don’t think. You react.

A barrier. A strike. You shove Satoru out of the way. Your body between him and the curse before his name even leaves your lips. The impact slams you to the floor. Pain rips through your side.

“NO!”

You hear him. Distant, panicked, but your vision blurs. Blood. Too much of it. The curse is still moving. You’re slowing down. You try to get up. Then the world goes white.

When you come to, the curse is gone. Vaporized. And Satoru is crouched beside you, his hands everywhere. Your face, your side, your chest, trembling with power and terror and fury all at once.

“Don’t… don’t you ever do that again,” he chokes out, voice barely holding. “You don’t ever take a hit for me again.”

You blink up at him, dazed. “I had to…”

“No, you didn’t!” His eyes are shining now, blindfold gone. You can see all of him, his fear, his grief, his rage. “You don’t get to die for me. You don’t get to leave me like that.”

You flinch. “Satoru…”

“I can’t lose you,” he growls. “You don’t get it… I’ve already lost too much. If you go… if you leave-” His voice cracks. “I won’t come back from it.”

Your fingers twitch, curling around his wrist.

“I’m not leaving,” you whisper, tears spill over your cheeks. “I’m still here.”

He leans down, forehead pressing to yours. His body is shaking, all of him coiled tight like a dam ready to burst.

“Then see me,” he breathes. “See how much I want you. How long I’ve loved you. Please, just stop pretending I’m not real.”

Your heart shatters. And before you can stop yourself, you lift a hand to his face. Trace the line of his cheek, soft and shaking.

“I see you,” you whisper. “God help me, Satoru, I see all of you.”

Then you’re kissing. Bloody, desperate, clinging. Because the world almost ended. And now neither of you want to waste another second pretending.

The safe house is quiet. Old wood floors. Rain dripping off the roof. A single lamp casting warm light across the small living room.

You’re curled up on the couch, swaddled in blankets and bandages. Your side still aches, but the worst is over.

And Satoru? He hasn’t left your side for hours. No teasing. No games. Just him, silent and still, kneeling on the floor beside you, one hand gently resting on your leg like he’s grounding himself.

“I thought I lost you,” he says, voice barely a whisper.

You reach down, fingers sliding through his hair.

“I’m still here,” you murmur. “For real this time.”

His eyes flick up to you. And there’s something raw in them, something wide open and bare.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he says, resting his cheek against your thigh. “I’m supposed to be the strongest. But in that moment, I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t even breathe.”

“You didn’t have to save me. You’ve already done that a hundred times.”

His eyes close. His shoulders shake.

“I didn’t want it to happen like that,” he says. “I didn’t want the only reason you looked at me to be because you were dying.”

You sit up just enough to cup his cheek. His breath catches.

“I looked at you, Satoru,” you whisper. “I’ve always looked at you. I was just too scared to believe it.”

He leans into your touch like it’s oxygen. You pull him up slowly, guiding him to sit behind you. He wraps his arms around you, blanket and all, tucking you to his chest like he’s terrified you’ll vanish again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, your voice muffled against his shirt. “You can stop holding your breath now.”

He lets out a slow, shaking sigh. And then,just above your ear, he whispers, “I love you.”

You go still. “…Say it again?”

He smiles softly. “I love you.”

You bury your face in his neck, tears warm against your cheeks. “I love you too, idiot.”

And for the first time, there’s no fear in it. No pretending. No doubt. Just you and him. Wrapped in quiet. Wrapped in each other.

It’s quiet again.

Morning light filters through gauzy curtains, pale gold and warm against your skin. You stir slowly, half-asleep, the ache in your side dulled by pain meds and warmth and the weight of long limbs tangled around you.

Satoru’s chest is pressed against your back, one arm locked securely around your waist, fingers curled just beneath the curve of your stomach.

You freeze, instinctively tensing. That familiar little voice, it whispers in the back of your mind, ‘he’s touching too much. You’re too soft. Too big. He’s going to realize it soon.’

A sleepy sigh sounds from behind you. His lips brush your shoulder, his voice rasping with morning roughness

“Mm… don’t do that.”

You blink. “Do what?”

“That thing,” he murmurs, pressing closer. “The disappearing act. I can feel you thinking about hiding from me again.”

You try to laugh it off. “I’m just-”

He cuts you off by nuzzling into your neck. “You’re not too much,” he whispers. “You’re not too soft. You’re not any of those awful things you tell yourself.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes.

“I didn’t say anything,” you whisper.

“You didn’t have to.”

His hand slides slowly over your belly. Not possessive. Not sexual. Just there like he wants to prove that he can hold you here, in all your realness, and still want you more than anything.

“I like touching you,” he adds, a little lower now. “I like waking up and holding every soft inch of you. I want to wrap myself around you and keep you warm and never let you think you’re not beautiful again.”

You bite your lip. “Satoru…”

He finally lifts his head, shifting so you’re on your back and he’s propped on one elbow beside you.

“Let me love you exactly as you are. No fixing. No hiding. Just… you.”

Your breath hitches. And for the first time, you don’t pull away. You don’t apologize for taking up space. You just reach for him, heart racing, lips trembling and let him kiss you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

Because maybe you are. And maybe, just maybe… you’re starting to believe it.

You’re still wrapped in blankets when the smell of something sweet wakes you. Your eyes blink open slowly, the ache in your side a dull throb, but it’s distant now, softened by rest and the warm imprint of Satoru’s body beside you. Only… he’s not beside you now.

You frown until the bedroom door creaks open.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Satoru says, balancing a tray in his hands, wearing one of your oversized sweaters (because of course he found it in your bag), and smiling like a man who just won the lottery.

“You made breakfast?” you croak.

“I made chaos in the kitchen,” he corrects, setting the tray on your lap. “But look, burnt toast, half-saved pancakes, and strawberries that didn’t cry when I chopped them.”

You snort, and then groan as your side twinges.

“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, sitting beside you and tucking pillows behind your back. “You’re not doing anything today except cuddling and being spoiled.”

You blink at the tray. “You cut the crusts off.”

“Obviously,” he says. “They insulted you and had to be dealt with.”

You giggle, lips trembling at the edges.

“…You really want to stay like this?” you ask softly. “Even with me like this?”

“I want you like this every day,” he says. “Messy bed hair, sleepy eyes, the softest body I’ve ever had the privilege to hold and mine.”

You bite your lip.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” he adds. “So get used to it.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, one hand idly stroking your hip through the blanket. You eat together, quietly. Sometimes he feeds you bites just to see you roll your eyes. Sometimes he kisses crumbs off your cheek with exaggerated flair. And after the tray’s pushed aside, you settle back into him, curled under his (or your) sweater and his arms.

“Stay with me like this forever,” you whisper.

“Always,” he murmurs into your hair. “You’re not getting rid of me, sweetheart.”

And in that moment, with your heart full and his arms holding every part of you like you’re sacred, you believe him.

The moment you walk back through the gates of Jujutsu High, something shifts. Maybe it’s the way Satoru walks beside you instead of ahead. Maybe it’s the way he adjusts his pace to yours, not rushed, not showy, just steady.

Or maybe it’s the quiet look Nanami gives you from across the courtyard, how his brows lift just a fraction when he sees your hand brush Satoru’s as you both laugh at something small. He doesn’t say anything. But you see it in his eyes. He knows.

Later, when you’re in the staff room sipping tea, Shoko arches an eyebrow as Satoru loiters behind your chair.

“Something happen while you were away?” she asks casually, her voice all lazy interest, but her eyes glitter with mischief.

You stammer, cheeks flushing, but Satoru just leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Nothing at all,” he says smoothly. “Just realized how incredibly hot and brilliant my coworker is.”

You nearly choke on your tea.

Nanami sighs heavily and stands, muttering, “Disgusting.”

Shoko grins. “Took you long enough.”

The students notice it too. Yuuji’s eyes sparkle. Nobara smirks every time you walk by. Megumi pretends not to care but glances between you both often, like he’s calculating the odds of this finally happening.

But the most telling thing? It’s the way Satoru never lets go now. When you walk beside him, his fingers graze your wrist. When you sit, his thigh brushes yours. He doesn’t parade you around, but he stays close, always watching, always anchoring you with the quiet weight of his affection.

You catch yourself smiling more. Standing a little taller. The sting of your old thoughts doesn’t vanish overnight, but his presence helps dull them. Because now, when you catch your reflection in the hallway glass, you don’t just see the soft curves and insecurity.

You see his sweater draped over your shoulders. You see a woman learning to love herself again. You see the girl he fell for and the one who’s finally learning to fall for herself, too.

It happens three days after returning to Jujutsu High. The day is long, full of student training and meetings, and by the time you get back to your apartment, your limbs ache and your mind is mush. Satoru had followed you to your rooms again without question like it was just natural now.

Not that you’re complaining. You love having him there. You love waking up warm. You love watching him wander your kitchen in his socks, mumbling about cereal options like it’s his rooms. But… you haven’t talked about it.

And when you close the bathroom door to wash up for bed, something hits you mid-toothbrushing. He hasn’t left in three days. You freeze, staring at your own wide-eyed reflection.

Wait… do we live together now? Is that what this is?? Am I being presumptuous? Am I just letting him crash here like a stray cat that never leaves??

You scrub your face in record time, brushing your hair back, trying not to panic.

What if he doesn’t even realize he’s been staying here? What if he thinks it’s just sleepovers?

You finish up, heart pounding, resolve steeling. You’ll ask. You’ll be normal about it. You open the door. And there he is.

Satoru Gojo. In your bed. Sprawled diagonally across the mattress like a starfish. Shirtless. Wearing those stupidly expensive sweatpants he definitely snuck from your laundry. With his phone plugged into your charger, a book from your shelf on the pillow beside him, and a mug of tea on your nightstand. Like it’s his room. Like he lives here. You blink.

He glances up lazily. “Took you long enough. I thought you fell in.”

You walk in slowly, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “Um. Hey.”

“Hey.” He pats the space beside him.

You sit on the edge of the bed. “Satoru?”

“Hm?”

“Do we, uh… live together now?”

He stares at you blankly. Then frowns. “…Do you not want me here?”

“No, I mean… yes! I do want you! I just, no one said anything! You just kind of never left!”

He blinks. Then slowly grins. “Oh. Yeah. I guess I did just sort of… move in.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m overthinking again, aren’t I?”

“Absolutely,” he says, tugging you down beside him. “But that’s okay. I already unpacked my toothbrush and claimed the good side of the bed.”

“…That’s my side.”

He kisses your cheek. “Not anymore, roommate.”

You groan into the pillow. But you’re smiling. Because apparently, you do live together now. And somehow, the weirdest part is that it already feels like home.

It starts with the closet then. Not in a dramatic, ‘I found skeletons in the closet’ way. No, it starts when you try to find your favorite hoodie and discover it missing, only for Satoru to walk past your bedroom door holding it like he plans to wear it, paired with a towel slung dangerously low on his hips and a sleepy yawn on his lips. You blink. Your brain completely flatlines.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand through his damp hair, droplets of water sliding down his bare chest like some actual anime bullshit.

“…You stole my hoodie,” you squeak, horrified that that’s the first thing out of your mouth.

He grins, sniffing at the hem playfully. “Yours? I thought this was mine now. It smells like you.”

You short-circuit. The next day, you open your dresser and find his shirts tucked neatly between yours. His expensive cologne sits next to your perfume. He uses your pink hairbrush without shame. He steals your fuzzy socks. He leaves a stash of his boxer briefs in your drawer like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

And you? You’re going feral in silence. Because suddenly, you’re not just living with Satoru Gojo. You’re living with a mostly naked Satoru Gojo who stretches in the hallway like a sin, wears nothing but a towel while brushing his teeth, and steals every piece of clothing that smells remotely like you.

And worst of all? He’s completely oblivious.

So when you finally burst, hands on your hips, cheeks red, heart throbbing, it’s after he walks into the kitchen shirtless, hair damp from a shower, sipping coffee in nothing but those stupid soft briefs that cling to every muscle and…, you blush even more, like they were made for suffering.

“Are you trying to kill me?!”

He blinks. “I just woke up.”

“That’s the problem!”

He pauses, then grins slow and cocky.

“Oh. You mean this?” He slides his hand over his damp chest, teasing. “You like what you see?”

You make a strangled noise, turn on your heel, and walk straight into the fridge. Satoru laughs so hard he nearly drops his coffee.

And from that day forward? He definitely does it on purpose.

You tell yourself it’s just a little experiment. Just one outfit. A little something that hugs your curves and makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could flirt back for once. Not a full seduction, no. Just a test. A taste of being bold.

You catch your reflection in the mirror before walking out. And you… don’t look bad. You look hot, actually. And that little voice in your head, the one that used to whisper cruel things,quietly shuts the hell up for once.

You walk into the living room where Satoru’s lounging on the couch, phone in hand.

He doesn’t look up at first. But then he does and freezes. You don’t get a smirk. Or a teasing comment. Or even a wolf-whistle. You get nothing.

He’s just staring at you. Mouth parted. Eyes wide behind his sunglasses like he’s trying to process a divine revelation.

“…What?” you say, already starting to tug at your hem. “Is it too much? It’s too much, right? God, I knew I couldn’t pull this off.”

“No.”

“No?” you echo.

He sits up slowly. Swallows hard. Still no jokes. Still no teasing. Just that look.

“Come here,” he says, voice low.

You hesitate, but step forward. And before you can overthink it again, his hand reaches out. Takes yours. Guides it right to the hard, throbbing bulge straining against his sweatpants.

“Does this answer your question?”

Your brain just… goes blank.

“I was trying to come up with a line,” he says with a shaky laugh. “Like, something smooth. But I… seriously. You walk in like that and expect me to form words?”

You stare down at your hand, then back up at him, breath catching. “…You like it?”

“I’ve never wanted to worship someone the way I wanna worship you right now.”

Your cheeks go up in flames. And still his hand stays over yours, holding it there.

As if to say see? No joke. No teasing. Just truth. You broke Satoru. And god, it feels good.

Your palm is still resting against the heat of him when your brain finally catches up to your body.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, jerking your hand back like it’s burned you. “I… um. I need to go. To the bathroom. Or my room. Or somewhere not here.”

You spin on your heel. You don’t make it two steps. His voice is low, lower than you’ve ever heard it.

“Don’t.”

You freeze.

“Don’t run,” he murmurs behind you. “Not from me.”

Your heart pounds. “I’m not-”

“You are,” he says, standing now. You hear the shift of fabric, the creak of the couch. “You think I’m playing around. That I’ve been teasing you just for fun.”

You stare at the floor, breath uneven.

“And maybe I was teasing you,” he admits, suddenly closer. “But not because I didn’t want you.”

You feel him just behind you. Not touching, but almost. Close enough that his warmth spills over your skin.

“I want you,” he says, breath brushing your neck. “So badly it hurts.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, trying to swallow the panic. “This body, it’s not-”

His hands slide over your waist. Gentle. Reverent. No hesitation.

“It’s perfect,” he says. “You’re perfect.”

You shake your head, throat tight.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathes, pressing closer, the heat of him unmistakable against your lower back. “You walk in wearing that, looking like a dream, and I lost my mind. You think I’d let you walk away now?”

You tremble.

“I want to show you,” he says, voice low and rough. “I want to make you feel loved. I want to make you feel mine.”

His fingers brush your jaw, coaxing your gaze up to meet his. Blue eyes blown wide, soft, hungry. “I’ve waited long enough.”

And when you finally nod, just a shaky little tilt of your chin, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years.

Then he turns you to face him. And he kisses you like you’re air and water and every damn reason he’s still alive. It’s not rough. Not yet. It’s desperate. Reverent. The kind of kiss that trembles with restraint.

And when he lifts you into his arms, whispering, “Let me show you how beautiful you are,” you finally believe him.

You don’t know how you ended up in his lap. Maybe it was the way he carried you like you weighed nothing, or the way his lips never left yours, whispering soft things between kisses. But now you’re here. Straddling him on your bed, your thighs bracketing his hips, your fingers trembling where they hold onto his shoulders. His hands are warm on your waist. His eyes, usually so playful and wild, are soft now. Anchored. Sincere.

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

You nod once, eyes flickering down. “I just… I’ve never let anyone see me like this. Not really.”

Satoru’s hand catches your chin, guiding your gaze back to him. “Then I’m honored. And I promise, what I see? Is beautiful.”

He kisses you again, slower now, coaxing rather than demanding. His hands explore in the gentlest ways: over your arms, your back, the softness of your waist. Every curve is touched like it matters. You flinch when his fingertips trail lower, over the roll of your tummy. But he doesn’t flinch at all. He sighs, content, like this is exactly what he’s dreamed of.

“Why would you hide this from me?” he breathes against your throat. “It’s you. And I want all of you.”

You let him undress you first, hesitantly, shyly, and he goes just as slow. Kissing your skin as it’s revealed. Murmuring sweet nothings between each piece that falls away. When you’re bare and trembling, he leans back, just to look at you.

“God, sweetheart,” he says, voice thick.“You’re going to ruin me.”

And when he undresses for you? He doesn’t make a show of it. Doesn’t tease. He watches your eyes, makes sure you’re still with him, still comfortable. And when you reach out to touch his chest hesitantly, he melts into your palm like it’s the only thing that matters.

The first time he slides into you, it’s not rushed. It’s not primal. It’s like slipping into warmth. Into home.

He holds you while you adjust, kisses every inch of your face, strokes your thighs and whispers, “You feel like heaven.”

You cry a little. He holds you tightly.

It’s slow. So slow you think you might fall apart from the tenderness alone. Every stroke is deep, deliberate, meant to make you feel. His praise never stops.

“You’re perfect.”

“I love how you sound.”

“You’re taking me so well, baby.”

Your hands are clutching at his back, your legs trembling from the pleasure and the emotion all tangled together. He buries his face in your neck when he gets close, groaning, “Can I…? Please…”

You nod before he finishes, whispering, “I want all of you.”

He finishes inside with a choked moan, pressing so deep you feel him everywhere. His hands tremble as they hold you. Yours do, too. And when you finally collapse together, sweaty and sore and spent, he cradles you like something precious. Like you’re his.

The water’s already running when you stir awake in the morning, muscles aching in the best way possible. You’re naked under the sheets, and so is he, pressed behind you, an arm heavy over your waist, breath warm against your shoulder.

You feel him stir as you shift.

“You awake?” he mumbles, voice gravel-soft.

You hum sleepily, “Barely.”

“I ran a bath,” he says, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “I wanna clean you up.”

You blink, flustered. “You ran a bath for me?”

“I ran a bath for us,” he says, grinning now. “But mostly for me, because I can’t stop thinking about how you looked last night.”

You groan, hiding your face in the pillow “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he counters, already pulling the covers down and making you yelp at the cold air. “And I’ve only just started appreciating you properly.”

He guides you to the bathroom with gentle hands, letting you settle into the warm, rose-scented water first. Then he climbs in behind you, knees framing your hips as he sinks into the tub with a groan. You melt against his chest, eyes fluttering closed.

But Satoru? Satoru’s hands are already moving. Softly lathering your shoulders. Sliding down your arms. Drawing soapy, adoring circles over the curve of your belly, the fullness of your hips. His lips find the top of your spine, slow kisses trailing downward, making your body tingle despite the soreness.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, cupping water over your chest to rinse you. “More times than I should admit.”

“Me in a bath?” you tease, breath catching when his hands slide over your breasts, just enough to make you gasp.

“You. Like this,” he says against your neck. “Soft. Happy. Letting me love you without shame.”

You don’t say anything, but your hand finds his on your stomach, fingers lacing with his under the water. He keeps touching. Not to start something more. Just to feel. To learn every inch of you. And when you finally tip your head back to kiss him, slow and lingering, he smiles against your lips.

“Gonna be real hard to go to my room tonight,” he murmurs.

“Then don’t,” you whisper back. “Stay.”

He wraps his arms around you tighter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The bathwater sloshes gently around you, your back still resting against his chest. His arms are around you, one hand lazily cupping your breast, the other trailing circles across your stomach beneath the waterline. His lips brush your shoulder. Then your neck. Then lower. And the shift in his breathing is unmistakable.

“Satoru…” you whisper, pulse fluttering.

“Mmh,” he hums, voice thick with need. “Still so pretty like this.”

His fingers slide up, teasing your nipple, watching the way you arch against him with a shaky breath.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, nuzzling behind your ear. “The way your body responds to me? How you open up so perfectly just for me?”

You gasp when his other hand dips lower, beneath the surface. His fingers trail slowly between your thighs, teasing, testing, spreading heat through your core like wildfire.

“You’re already wet,” he groans, kissing the side of your throat. “You want more?”

You nod, head falling back onto his shoulder.

“Say it,” he whispers, fingers circling the bundle of nerves with maddening care. “I want to hear you.”

“I want you,” you whisper, breathless. “Please, Satoru…”

That’s all he needs. He shifts behind you, guiding you forward just enough so he can slide inside with slow, steady, deep thrusts. You gasp, clutching the sides of the tub as the water sloshes higher. The stretch of him is familiar now, but still dizzying. Still perfect.

“God,” he moans, pressing kisses to your back, “you feel even better the second time.”

He sets a slow rhythm, careful in the slippery warmth, one hand braced on your hip, the other snaking around to play with your clit while he rocks into you from behind.

“You hear that?” he pants softly. “That little noise you make every time I push deep?”

You whimper, and his hips falter.

“Shit, say my name again. Just like that.”

“Satoru!”

His movements get faster, water splashing now, your skin slick and your thighs trembling. His praise comes in gasps.

“So good.”

“So tight.”

“Made for me.”

You reach your peak with a sob, clenching around him as he curses into your skin, following you moments later with a groan that shakes his whole body. He holds you after. Cradles you, still inside, while the water settles and steam curls around the room.

And then he kisses your temple, lips brushing damp skin, and whispers, “Let me do that every day. Every night. For the rest of our lives.”

[moondustbaby]

Sunlight Torture and Other Love Languages

Bsf!Rafe x Bsf!Reader

summary: You show up to Rafe’s room before 8 a.m., mascara-smudged, heart heavy, and in desperate need of the one person who’s always made you feel safe. Too bad there’s a half-naked stranger tangled in his sheets. But that’s never stopped you before—and it won’t today. A soft, complicated, best-friends-since-forever kind of morning.

⸻

It’s barely 8 a.m. on a Sunday when I let myself into the Cameron house without knocking. I don’t care that I probably look like a disaster—hoodie half-zipped, slippers on, mascara smudged from crying through a 2 a.m. spiral about my parents that I can’t even fully explain. I just need Rafe.

And I already know where he’ll be.

Up the stairs, down the hall, second door on the left. Same as it’s always been.

I push open his door and step into the dim, stuffy room. There’s the soft, unmistakable sound of sleep breathing, and when my eyes adjust, I spot her. Some girl, naked and tangled in Rafe’s sheets, half-sprawled across his chest like a warm prop. Both of them are knocked out, dead to the world.

I don’t flinch. I don’t hesitate.

I march straight over to the window and yank the curtains wide open.

The sunlight explodes into the room like a spotlight. The girl jolts upright with a startled gasp, grabbing at the blanket to cover herself. Rafe groans, throwing an arm over his eyes like it’s any other morning.

“What the fuck—?” the girl snaps, blinking against the light as she scrambles to sit up, dazed and hungover.

“You should go,” I say calmly, like I’m reading off a script. “Thanks for playing.”

She’s still blinking as she tries to figure out what’s going on, grabbing clothes off the floor and fumbling into them. She doesn’t even ask who I am until her shirt’s halfway over her head.

“Is this your girlfriend?” she mutters, like she already knows the answer but wants the satisfaction of hearing it.

“No,” I say at the same time Rafe mumbles from under his arm, “Yeah, no. She’s just—my best friend.”

Her stare lingers on me a little too long. Like she wants to argue, but knows she’s already lost. She gathers the rest of her stuff without another word and leaves in a blur of irritation and smudged eyeliner.

I shut the door behind her.

Rafe’s still barely awake, shirtless under the blankets, just in boxers. He shifts lazily, squinting at me. “You really had to go full sunlight torture?”

“You were asleep. I needed you awake.”

“You couldn’t text first?”

“You didn’t text me first last night when you ditched our group to go hook up with whatever-her-name-was,” I say, already pulling off my hoodie and crawling into his bed like it’s mine. “So.”

He sighs, scooting over automatically, lifting the blanket so I can climb under. “Fair.”

I settle beside him, tucking myself into his warmth, trying to ignore the scent of someone else’s perfume still lingering in his sheets. But his arm finds its usual place around my waist, and just like always, I feel better the second he touches me.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter now.

“No.”

He waits.

“It’s my parents. Same old bullshit. They’re fighting again. And I know it’s dumb, and I know I’m being dramatic, but it just—it gets in my chest and I hate being there alone.”

His fingers move slow and steady against my side. “You’re not dumb.”

“I kicked a girl out of your bed and climbed in like it was mine.”

“It kinda is.”

My breath catches, but I don’t say anything. Just stare at the ceiling.

“I hate that I’m used to this,” I whisper.

“To what?”

“To feeling like I’m the only one holding everything together.”

His hand squeezes lightly at my hip. “You don’t have to hold anything today.”

And he means it. In the way only he can.

We don’t talk much after that. I just let myself sink into him, like I have since we were kids, pretending everything in the world could be fine as long as I had him next to me.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: this has been in my drafts for a whileeeee. no thoughts just sunlight torture, casual girlbossing a hookup out of bed, and then climbing in like the lifelong menace you are. anyway. this one is for the girlies who cope by being delulu and dramatic before 9 a.m. love you.

♥️ lani

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P I S T A N T H R O P H O B I A | s.geum

───��𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛───

pistanthrophobia : the fear of trusting people, forming close romantic relationships, and being vulnerable in interpersonal connections

' in which she can't escape her first love

•seong-je x reader

•part 3. (part 1&2 are out on my profile💌)

ׂׂૢ་༘______________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။•✩♬ now playing: monster | irene & seulgi

Lee Serim was literally counting the seconds until the school day was finally over, and she had to pull herself together just to survive it patiently. The mere thought of what was awaiting her later made her hands instantly start to sweat, and a wave of nausea hit her.

„Yah, what are we doing later today?" Gotak's voice snapped her out of her thoughts as the two of them stood in the cafeteria line to get their lunch. The girl hadn't been listening, her mind elsewhere—or more precisely, on someone else—when she looked at him, startled, a confused expression on her face. Gotak quickly realized his best friend hadn't been paying attention and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

„Man, what's wrong with you lately, Serim?" he asked, concerned. When she just kept staring at him and didn't answer, he rolled his eyes in frustration, slowly growing impatient. The problem wasn't that Serim didn't trust him. On the contrary, she would've trusted Gotak with her life—he had proven his loyalty to her plenty of times. That wasn't the issue. The issue was that she simply couldn't tell him because she knew what kind of consequences it would bring. Only after changing schools had she truly realized how dangerous this "Union" business really was. The boys had explained their activities to her and told her just how immoral everything about it was. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Seong-je had to be one of the founders of that horrible system. Baku was always in a bad mood whenever the topic of the Union came up, which was why they all avoided talking about it whenever they could. Sure, the friend group had been confronted a few times by Union members, but each time the teens had fought back and were usually left alone afterward—no one dared touch them again. Atleast not until a new guy was naive enough to try again and learned his lesson the hard way.

It wasn't until a year into their friendship that the boys found out what had happened between Serim and Seong-je. When she finally told them everything, they were shocked. The boys simply couldn't imagine a time when Seong-je wasn't driven by hatred and greed but could actually be loving. Especially Baku, who had known him the longest, didn't believe a word at first. But eventually, he realized she had nothing to gain from lying, and her honesty became clear. From the moment she confessed, the boys never let her walk anywhere alone at night again—especially not in areas where gang members usually hung out. Their protective instincts were no joke. Just hearing Seong-je's name made them instantly tense up. They were also one of the main reasons there was never another meeting between Serim and Seong-je. Even if she had wanted to meet him, the boys would've ruined that plan and stopped her from going through with such a reckless idea.

Trying her best to steer Gotak away from the topic, Serim brought up the new student who had transferred that day. She told him the guy seemed strange and incredibly cold. She had also overheard whispers from other students saying he had put someone into a coma—but Serim didn't believe that. If it were true, she figured she'd find out soon enough anyway.

Gotak knew she was trying to change the subject, but he also knew that forcing her to talk wouldn't work. If Serim had been ready to open up, she would've done it on her own. So he just looked at her gently and listened patiently. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair, which earned him a hard slap against his head. He didn't bring the subject up again.

She had no idea how she'd made it through the day, but somehow, she was still alive—though she'd honestly have preferred not to be. If she weren't alive, she wouldn't have to deal with all her problems, most of which revolved around him. The entire school day, she had been wondering what to do, because there was no way she wanted to go to that meeting. She knew nothing good would come of it—Seong-je attracted trouble like a magnet. No matter where he went or what he did, he always ended up in a fight or some kind of dirty business. Serim never wanted to be part of any of it. Still unsure, she pulled her school bag closer and sighed loudly. The weather was sunny and not cold at all—just how Lee Serim liked it. Unfortunately, she didn't get to enjoy it for long.

—

She had finished her long training session and quickly taken a shower before blow-drying her hair and slipping into fresh clothes. She tucked her hair behind her ears and threw on a cardigan before slinging her training bag over her shoulder and leaving the locker room. The training had drained the last of her energy, and all she wanted now was to crawl into her cozy bed and never get up again. The fact that she had barely slept the night before made that idea even more appealing.

When it came to training, her father never showed her mercy. He always emphasized how unsafe the area was and kept pushing her beyond her limits. Gotak and Baku hadn't come to training that day, both caught up in private matters, and Serim had missed them. It never took long for her to start missing her friends. Seeing them every day felt so natural that it always felt off when they weren't around. With a heavy heart, she left the gym and sent a quick message to the group chat the trio shared:

"Just finished training. I'll text you when I'm home."

Baku replied immediately, telling her to be careful and to call him right away if anything happened. Serim smiled at his protective instincts and glanced quickly at the clock on her phone.

8:14 PM.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she considered calling Baku after all, uncertain of what might be waiting for her once she took just a few more steps. Seong-je hadn't sent her another message, but Serim was smart enough to know he'd never leave it at that. She knew that no matter where she went, he could show up at any moment. With ears sharp and alert, she left the street where the gym was and headed home.

She checked every corner three times and expected someone to appear at any moment, avoiding all eye contact with strangers. She had to be as paranoid as possible—otherwise, she wouldn't make it home tonight. Serim acted like someone on high alert, and a few people were already giving her odd looks, but she didn't care. Her safety came first, and as long as Seong-je was still alive, she would never be safe on the streets at night. Not from strangers—but from him.

Serim was about five minutes from her apartment when she suddenly saw a shadow between her legs. She whipped around instantly. Her heart was racing, and her body went into survival mode as she gripped her bag tightly and prepared to fight off whoever was following her. But when she turned, no one was there—just a small black cat with white spots circling around her legs and meowing loudly.

Still breathing heavily, Serim took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

False alarm.

She immediately dropped to her knees and began petting the super cute cat. Cats were her absolute favorite animals, and she could never resist them. Unfortunately, her father had a cat allergy, so she could never have one of her own, which made her sad every time she thought about it. If it were up to her, she'd rescue and adopt every stray cat she saw—but that was just wishful thinking. Reality looked a lot different. Smiling happily, she sat there, now rubbing the cat's belly as it rolled onto its back, clearly enjoying the attention. She quickly pulled out her phone and took a photo before starting to talk to it in a baby voice.

She completely lost track of time and didn't even notice someone quietly stepping up behind her—until this time, she really did see a shadow behind her. Her heart stopped. Damn it. She hadn't been careful enough. Her heart stopped for a second and she cursed herself out for being this reckless. Serim didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. She could feel it. His presence was unmistakable.

„You didn't come."

That was all he said. His voice was rough, and she could hear the cigarette which was sitting in his mouth.

She fought with everything in her not to turn around and look at his ridiculously handsome face. She had never been able to resist him.

Without a word, she gave the cat one last stroke, took a deep breath, stood up quickly, and started walking—without even giving him a glance. She heard him hiss quietly behind her, then the sound of a cigarette hitting the pavement, followed by a hand grabbing her wrist, pulling her back. Serim tried to yank her arm away, but he was faster and stronger. He always was. Seong-je turned her toward him, forcing her to face him.

Seong-je looked deep into her eyes and said nothing at first. Oh how much she had missed that beautiful face of his. His grip didn't loosen even though Serim tried hard to break free. He weirdly seemed to cherish this encounter between the old lovers.

„Let me go, what the fuck!" she snapped angrily, pulling harder at her wrist.

This time, he let go—and because she hadn't expected it, she couldn't catch her balance in time and fell flat on her butt.

Those were the first words they had exchanged in two years, face-to-face, and they ended with her on the ground.

In her dreams, the first words would have been more romantic—but reality, as always, was far more brutal. She looked up at him and saw that stupid smirk on his face, which only made her angrier. She harshly balled her fist and it took everything in her to not just hit the damn ground she was now sitting on.

„You could've just told me you missed me. You didn't have to get on your knees for it, baby," he said teasingly, slowly kneeling in front of her. That smirk never left his face, and Serim saw red. She couldn't describe how much she hated him and that dirty mouth in that moment. Still - his words left her speechless for a moment and a small blush appeared on her cheeks despite her hard efforts. Serim was very easy to get flustered when it came to him and he knew it. He immediately picked up her blushing cheeks and only grinned harder at the girl sitting in front of him.

Without a word, she raised her right hand—and the next moment, Seong-je's face turned to the side. A bright red handprint formed on his cheek from the slap she had just landed. Serim knew that what she'd done was dangerously stupid, but in that moment, she didn't care. She just felt so exposed near him knowing that he could always read her like a book. Seong-je had always known exactly which buttons to push to make her lose control.

But he just pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, fixed his glasses which slipped due to the impact of her slap and looked at her with amusement. That bastard enjoyed pushing her to the edge, took pleasure in making her feel crazy. Even though it had to hurt, he didn't show any sign of pain. Even worse, he laughed about it.

„Baby, you know how much that turns me on right? Are you trying to seduce me right now?"

He laughed even louder, and his glasses reflected the stunned expression on her face. She desperately wanted to scream at him and hit him at the same time, she was just so fed up with everything. But none of that happened, instead he slowly stood up, then yanked her up by the arm. Once she was on her feet, she instantly pulled away from him. Her mind was spinning, and she felt so helpless in that moment that she almost started to cry—but she held herself together. She had promised herself she'd never cry because of him again, and she had no intention of breaking that promise now.

Seong-je looked at her for a long time before placing his hand on her cheek and leaning closer.

„You don't know how much I missed that helpless look on your face. Nothing I've done since then has made me feel the way just one look from you does."

He spoke softly, gazing deeply into her eyes. She was frozen in place, unable to move. His eyes had something hypnotic about them, and she couldn't resist them. She stared at him for several seconds—until that smirk reappeared. That was when reality snapped her back.

Without warning, she stomped on his foot with all her strength and spun around to run. She knew that no matter how fast she ran, he'd catch up. But she didn't care. If she wanted to survive, she had to get as far away from him as possible.

„You'll never escape me, Sera—remember that!" he called after her, laughing loudly enough for her to hear.

The old nickname he used for her made her skin crawl and left her feeling sick. She briefly considered turning around and shouting an insult at him—but knew it would only excite him more, so she held back. She was already turning the next corner when she saw him still standing there, taking a slow drag from a cigarette she hadn’t noticed he even pulled out with a wide grin—

—and she ran for her life.

taglist: @gacktsa @dripoftheseus @rockerica @b3autyist3rror @jaymiwrld @shonerd @mordessaa @inhoswifee

[phoenixyfriend]

Rexanidala Amnesia AU

Concept: Anakin circa year 2. 5 of the war wakes up in a post-war setting (good ending) where he is raising his kids in a throuple with Padmé and Rex.

Anakin starts off confused about some scars he doesn't remember, and his hair being too long, and having the wrong clothes at hand, and then wanders into the kitchen to see Rex and Padmé flirting as they make breakfast. He gets very angry and very confused, very fast, but then Padmé notices him and is Happy, and so is Rex, and that brings confusion forward because he clearly saw them kissing, but they're not? Hiding it? Panicking?

There's an exchange that has Padmé misinterpreting Anakin's "I saw you kissing Rex" as jealousy that Anakin has not also gotten a morning kiss from Rex.

A baby starts crying.

Anakin is so confused and distracted by the crying baby that he doesn't even stop Rex from kissing him. Partly because Rex is just radiating fondness/affection/amusement at what he interprets as Anakin being kinda groggy.

Anakin plays along for a few minutes, and then spots Threepio and goes "hey, I need to talk to my droid right now. In private."

R2 bullies his way in but Anakin lets it happen.

Threepio can keep secrets, including Anakin's, and so there's the perfect person to ask about what the hell is going on. Anakin gets the date, a basic timeline of when the hell Rex showed up in their lives as a romance thing, when the babies were born, is he even a Jedi anymore, is he still on good TERMS with the Jedi, etc. They somehow manage to avoid the topic of the Chancellor and how the war ended.

Comes out of the room and bluntly tells Padmé "I don't remember inviting Rex to our relationship." And they're all a bit confused and the stress is rising because Rex suddenly thinks they were maybe lying about having talked over inviting him to be part of the relationship like a YEAR ago, and Padme's thinking but inviting him was your idea, and then Anakin continues with, "I don't remember the babies being born. I don't remember the pregnancy. I don't remember the war ending. I don't remember Ahsoka leaving or coming back. I think someone needs to get Obi-Wan and a mind healer, because Threepio is saying it's a head injury and honestly I don't have any better ideas."

So obviously. It's Obi-Wan time.

He brings Anakin back to the Temple. That is where some Topics are covered (they know about the Tuskens, Palpatine was a Sith, Anakin spent three months under a forced psych hold after some Stuff) and they can't immediately fix what's going on. Anakin gets sent home to Padme's as an outpatient with plans to come back regularly until they figure out possible treatments.

The rest of the fic is Anakin and Padmé and Rex trying to find a balance between "Rex was finally comfortable and settled in our lives" and "Anakin isn't used to having a larger, denser body in the bed with them and woke up in a panic last night because of it."

Slight implications throughout that name or unclear if this is actually amnesia, some kind of temporary time travel, or an alternate universe swap with an Anakin whose life made it through the RotS woodchipper mostly intact.

(It's probably a head injury that interacted with the existing brain damage.)

[wrongbodies]

Fanfic: Heart Stopped, pt 3

Charlie was surprisingly calm, he noticed. He was aware that had he been in his actual body, he'd be beset by anxiety were this to happen to Nick or someone else he loved. Yet, something about being trapped in Harry's body was strangely freeing.

He had long since left the bathroom and the school property. He was actually at Harry Greene's house. Harry's parents didn't seem too bothered with Harry being alone, they were content talking downstairs sharing a bottle of wine. Charlie didn't mind, though. He was busying himself looking around Harry's bedroom.

He knew enough about Harry at school to avoid him, and that he was also on the rugby team. But outside of that, he really didn't know much about this boy. His room was pretty stereotypical though. Posters of rugby and football players lined the walls, and heaps of laundry showed most of his clothes were otherwise sports-oriented.

What he was surprised to find was some music on his computer that showed maybe Harry wasn't a complete tool. He had apparently been listening to a lot of Baby Queen recently. Maybe Harry could be saved, if only he stopped acting like an ass all the time.

Charlie jumped a little when the phone in his pocket started buzzing. He pulled it out and saw the name "Nick Nelson" on the screen. Nick? Why would he be calling Harry? Whatever the reason, he decided to answer the phone.

"Charlie?" The voice asked weakly from over the line.

Charlie almost dropped the phone. "Nick... you know it's me??"

A loud inhalation of breath was transmitted over the call. "I still can't really wrap my head 'round this, but I think I do. Charlie - er, Harry is losing it over here. I don't know what to do with him!"

"Should I come over?" Charlie asked.

"I think so. He is out of control, and I don't want your parents freaking out." Nick said.

"Ok, I'm coming!" Charlie said as he rushed to get shoes on.

It took Charlie about 20 minutes to arrive to his actual home. However, whatever had transpired in that short span of time seemed to have spiral out of control. An ambulance was parked outside the house, and just as he approached he saw men dragging his body from the house. The real Harry was screaming, face flushed and practically frothing at the mouth.

"I'm NOT Charlie!" He screamed. "Let me go! Let go of me! I AM NOT CHARLIE SPRING!"

Charlie saw Nick appear at the door, with his parents trying to calm him. Nick was staring in disbelief, and then his eyes flicked to Charlie. His eyes widened and he blanched. The two froze, not daring to move until the ambulance took Harry away.

In the following days Charlie, trapped in Harry's body, and Nick learned that Harry had been committed to a psychiatric facility. After losing composure that first afternoon, Charlie's parents became gravely concerned and asked for him to be taken away.

This left Charlie and Nick in a strange position. Charlie still had no idea what was going on. Was this body swap permanent? And what about their relationship? Nick of course felt horrible about his boyfriend being stuck in the predicament.

Yet, not all was so bad. Charlie figured out that somehow the body swap had left some things behind - and brought others with it. The biggest thing was it left all of his mental illnesses with his original body. What it didn't leave behind? He was still gay. He found himself still pining for Nick and wanting to spend all his time with him still.

The circumstance was strange, though. Nick and Harry had to do a loooot of work to convince Tao, Elle, and Isaac about the body swap. Only after Harry Greene dropped personal, intimate secrets for each of them did they start to believe. And then further convinced when Harry and Nick kissed. Nick still looked anxious, mostly because it was Harry's face he was snogging, and not his first love.

Outside of that, the school social scene was shaken up by Harry seemingly defecting from the cool kids group and hanging out exclusively with Nick and Charlie's weirdo friends. It took a few months for everything to really settle. When it did though, Charlie was pleased to find he was happier than ever. He loved his parents and Tori, and found that he could still be near them by convincing them he was friends with Charlie.

Across the board, his life had truly improved. And nothing cemented that he was happy than when he walked out of his new homes front door and saw the absolute love of his life standing out front waiting for him.

Far away, in the psychiatric hospital. Charlie Spring - Harry Greene in truth - lay in bed wasting away. He had never quite given up trying to convince people he was Harry and a victim of a body swap. He had been diagnosed with OCD and anxiety among other issues. Everything felt so strange in this body, constantly bombarding him with strange rules and restrictions. Harry wondered when this nightmare would end, if ever.