#this was becoming way too long so i had to cut it

[in-class-daydreams]

Imaging you and ex-husband Gojo getting into an ugly fight for one of the first times since the initial divorce.

"Does your little boyfriend know you kissed me?" he asks lowly.

Your living room was not the ideal place to get into spats like this, but you'd rather here than either school where eavesdroppers can spread your business all over the place.

"He doesn't, actually!" You turn and stalk towards the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, "He's not my boyfriend, so it doesn't matter."

Satoru and his ridiculous long legs easily keep up with you. "Is that how that works?"

You turn to face him, only to bump right into his chest. When did he get that close?

Jabbing a finger into his chest, you say, "If, by some insane lapse in judgement, I kissed you while I had a boyfriend, I'd own it and come clean. It's called 'communication,' Satoru, look it up." Again, you turn to make your way into another room, eager to be away from him, but he grabs you by the wrist.

"I hate when you do that! You say some pain in the ass thing, then you try to walk away! You do it every time," he gripes. "And what would you tell him, huh?"

"I'd tell him your fucking lips were dry!" you snap. "And that it was a mistake."

Satoru grabs you by the face with one hand, squishing your cheeks together and forcing you to look at him. With one flick of his finger, he uses his technique to force his blindfold off. You're left looking into his crystal blue eyes that make you feel like a teenager again.

"You still love me," he tells you.

"I don't."

"I can tell. You look at me the same way you always have."

"No."

"Say it!"

"Fuck off!" You turn and bite his hand hard. He yelps and recoils. His fault for always letting you through his infinity. "You want me to love you, Satoru?" you shout. "You wanna act like you've changed?"

Memories of him walking into the restaurant with another woman on his arm flash in your mind. Holding back tears, you continue, "Maybe you have. But you changed for other women instead of me, so why should I give a damn about what you want?"

Satoru always blamed himself for the divorce, as much as you tried in the past to reassure him that there were a dozen factors working against you. He's done his best to take what you've said in the end days of your marriage to heart and become a better man. Communicating with dates, being better about speaking his true thoughts, all of it was an attempt to be the type of man you wanted to be married to. For you to imply that all that was too little, too late cut him deeper than you could ever know.

And so, in a stroke of pure idiocy, Satoru reaches out, cups your face, and kisses you like he'd never get to again.

Heehoo

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[reidmania]

a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

[writeriguess]

katsuki x female reader where she is usually so closed off behind sassy act but becomes vulnerable for the first time around him when she has drunken her worries away

You were always a force to be reckoned with, strutting through the halls with a confidence that rivaled the best of them. Your quick wit and sharp tongue kept most people at arm's length, a strategy you perfected over the years. It was easier to hide behind the sass than to let anyone see what was really underneath.

Especially around him.

Katsuki Bakugo was a different breed of intensity, someone who met your fire with fire. The few times you exchanged words, it was a clash of egos, both too proud to back down. But despite the frequent verbal sparring, there was something about him that lingered in the back of your mind, an unspoken connection that neither of you had ever acknowledged.

And tonight, it all came crashing down.

The dim lights of the bar flickered above you as you nursed the last remnants of your drink, the alcohol warming your insides and dulling the sharp edges of your mind. You weren’t much of a drinker, but tonight... tonight you had too much on your mind. The pressure of hero work, the expectations, the facade you’d kept up for so long—it all became too heavy.

You let out a sigh, staring into the glass as though the answers to your problems were swirling at the bottom. The buzz in your head softened your usual defenses, and for once, you didn’t feel the need to be so guarded.

That’s when you felt it—his presence. Even in your haze, you could sense Bakugo's intense aura as he approached, his eyes locking onto you from across the bar. His usual scowl was in place, though there was something different in his expression, something almost concerned.

"Tch, what the hell are you doing?" His voice was gruff as he slid into the seat next to you.

You looked up at him, eyes slightly unfocused. "Bakugo..." you slurred his name, barely recognizing the softness in your own voice. "Just... drinking. Relaxing. Like a normal person."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You? Relaxing? Yeah, right. What's really going on?"

You scoffed, though the sound was half-hearted. "Nothing you need to worry about, okay? I'm fine."

But the second the words left your mouth, you felt your carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your grip, or maybe it was the way Bakugo's intense gaze seemed to see right through you. Either way, the façade was slipping, and for the first time, you didn't have the strength to hold it up.

"I'm not fine," you whispered, voice barely audible over the noise of the bar.

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t interrupt. He was waiting.

You swallowed hard, trying to pull yourself together, but it was too late. The vulnerability that you'd spent so long hiding was bubbling to the surface, and there was no stopping it.

"I’ve been pretending... for so long," you continued, your voice thick with emotion. "Pretending like everything's fine, like I have it all under control, but... I don’t. It’s exhausting, Katsuki." You rarely used his first name, but it slipped out naturally, your usual barriers completely gone. "I’m so tired."

For a moment, Bakugo was silent, his gaze unwavering as he processed your words. Then, without warning, he stood up and grabbed your wrist, pulling you up from the barstool.

"Come on," he muttered, his voice softer than usual.

"Where are we—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Outside. You need air."

You let him lead you out of the crowded bar, the cool night breeze hitting your face as you stepped onto the empty street. Bakugo didn’t let go of your wrist until you both reached a quiet spot away from the noise. He turned to face you, his expression serious.

"You're an idiot if you think you're the only one who feels that way," he said bluntly, though his tone lacked its usual bite. "Everyone’s struggling. Being a hero isn't easy, and you’re not some invincible machine. You're allowed to be tired."

You stared at him, your mind struggling to process his words. It wasn’t like him to be so... understanding.

"I just... I don’t know how to let anyone in," you admitted, your voice small. "If I do, I’ll fall apart."

"Then fall apart," he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You think being strong means never breaking? That’s bullshit. Real strength is getting back up after you fall."

Your chest tightened at his words, and before you could stop yourself, tears welled up in your eyes. You hated crying, especially in front of people, but right now, you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

"I'm scared, Katsuki," you whispered, the tears spilling over. "I'm scared of failing, of not being enough."

Bakugo’s expression softened, just a fraction, and he stepped closer. "You're enough," he said firmly, his voice low. "You’re more than enough. And if you fall, I’ll be there to pick you up. Got it?"

His words broke something inside you, and before you knew it, you were burying your face in his chest, the sobs you had been holding in for so long finally escaping. Bakugo didn’t push you away or make some snide comment. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as you cried.

For the first time in forever, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. And for the first time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone.

"I got you," Bakugo muttered into your hair, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. "I’ve always got you."

And in that moment, you believed him.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[lurukifennecfox]

i had an idea that while Halfas can die and become full ghosts it is still hard to kill them

in ghost form the can get survive same as full ghosts (even if the get their head cut off they can just put it back in place) so they are basically immortal-ish there.

in human form they are way more durable than average human but still. they can get hurt more meaningfully than in ghost form and still feel pain so can't exactly shrug it off.

as such they instinctively transform if the damage is bad enough to risk their lives and because the injuries translate to forms if the injuries in ghost form are bad enough they get that block on transforming back to human like you'd get if you tried to put your hand in boiling water.

you can but your survival instincts say nu-huh so you just don't.

my brain also gave me a scene(incomplete and in video format so that's what you get)

** Danny in human form, for whatever reason there happens an explosion near and he's startled and getting, well, blown off so he's hurt from the explosion and mid-flight transforms into Phantom (no one could see that because there's still a ton of fire happening from literally explosion taking place?). **

----------

Danny is desoriented and kinda not feelin' it because duh.

"Ugh" he gets up into a sitting position and finds himself in ghost form, confused, he must have transformed and haven't noticed somehow? someone is calling him.

"Phantom!" someone staggers closer clearly panicked and limping, which makes sense considering the current situation.

"Phantom what happened?? i saw Danny there is he okay???"

Phantom panics a little himself and kinda hysterically laughs "i hope so!" then takes an unnecessary breath to calm down and explains hurriedly standing to his feet. "i portaled him to my lair so he should-"

he was interrupted by the person he was talking to "oh Ancients! are you okay??"

he looks down to where the person is looking to find out he very much looks blown up at the moment exept in green... which he hadn't noticed before and the sight makes him queasy.

he knows he will heal up in a few hours tho, or a day? depends. ouff that hand looks like it barely hangs on how did he use it to prop himself up??? "at least everything's attached, eh it'll be fine in a few hours"

he elects to not think about it and better think about whether or not it's too traumatising to see for him to check up on other people who were in radius (not as close as him, hopefully no casualties)

----------

he will freak out later thinking he actually fully died, because he tried to transform back and couldn't (boiling water thing), but nope he just didn't wait long enough for his body to stich together the very important internal organs.

he should just wait and idk? go socialise since he doesn't look gorey anymore.

[blackenedsnow]

Hey! Could I request a Shadow the hedgehog x fem reader where she’s super depressed and always has been, but she means everything to Shadow? He’s constantly trying to protect her, even from herself (self harm), because he sees so much of Maria in her. It makes him a bit obsessive, like he can’t bear to lose her. Lots of angst but maybe a hopeful ending?"

is this what i have become?

WARNING: Depression, mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, obsessive tendencies

PAIRING: Shadow The Hedgehog x (Fem) Depressed! Reader

NOTE: Please read with care. I hope you can find some catharsis in the story, and remember that help is always available if you need it. Take care of yourselves.

SUMMARY: Shadow the Hedgehog has always been by your side, a silent protector. But the more he tries to shield you, the deeper you fall into your own despair.

It was another late evening, the room dim and quiet except for the soft hum of the outside world, which felt too far away to reach. You sat on the edge of your bed, an open book in your lap, though the words were just a blur at this point. It was hard to focus. Your mind was always drifting, weighed down by the ever-present heaviness that never seemed to lift.

Shadow was nearby, as he often was. His presence was constant, lingering like a dark guardian at the edge of your thoughts, protective yet heavy with unspoken tension. You knew why. He saw something in you—something that reminded him of her. Maria.

You’d never brought it up. You didn’t need to. It was clear in the way he looked at you, the way he stayed by your side, never leaving for too long, as though he was afraid that if he did, you’d disappear, just like she had. He wasn’t just trying to protect you; he was trying to save you.

But that was the problem. You didn’t feel like you could be saved.

The book in your lap was one you’d picked up in a vain attempt to distract yourself, to focus on something other than the numbness that had become your constant companion. You flipped another page, not really reading. One passage caught your eye, though, standing out in the blur of words:

The fragility of the species was not just a testament to evolution but a symbol of overdevelopment to the point of self-destruction.

When you closed the book, your gaze drifted toward Shadow. He stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable expression he always wore. You wondered if he thought the same of you. You often feel like those creatures—too fragile for this world, collapsing under the slightest pressure. Your body, your mind—both seem to be breaking down, unable to withstand the forces around you, yet here you were, still standing, much like the last surviving member of an endangered species, teetering on the edge of extinction.

Shadow didn’t say anything. His silence was telling. He didn’t need to speak to make his point. He was there to protect you, not to offer philosophical musings. But it made you wonder if, one day, he would see that his protection was futile—that, like those fragile creatures, you were destined to break, no matter how hard he tried to save you.

The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. You looked away, the weight of everything pressing harder against your chest. How could you explain to him that you weren’t strong like him? That the very act of existing felt like too much sometimes?

“You’re quiet tonight.” His voice cut through the stillness, low and controlled, like always. Shadow rarely broke his calm demeanor, even when the situation called for it. He didn’t need to raise his voice to make himself heard.

“I’m just tired,” you replied, though that was only half the truth.

Shadow didn’t move, his red eyes piercing through the dimness, watching you closely. “You’re always tired,” he murmured, his voice soft but edged with concern. He knew, of course. He always knew when you were struggling more than usual, but tonight, the weight was unbearable.

You stood abruptly, the book falling off your lap as you moved toward the window, needing space, needing air, but finding none. The room felt too small. You felt too trapped. It had been like this for days now—no, for years, ever since you could remember. The depression had always been there, gnawing at you from the inside, and despite Shadow’s constant presence, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were slowly crumbling away.

And then, before you realized what you were doing, your fingers found the cold handle of the blade you kept tucked away in a drawer. Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, of an end to the pain that had haunted you for so long. You were going to bring it to the other room with you, but before you could do anything, Shadow was there. He moved like a shadow himself, quick and deliberate, positioning himself between you and the door, blocking any way out.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, like he was sizing up the situation. Maybe he is, you thought. Maybe he’s calculating the precise force it would take to disarm you without causing injury, or the fastest way to get the blade out of your hand.

You looked at him, tears threatening to spill, and for a moment, you wondered if Shadow—this strong, quiet being who had been through more than most could even comprehend—could understand desperation.

“Put it down,” he said, his voice calm but firm, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t need that.”

Your knuckles are changing color as you grip the handle, the steel biting into your skin as if it too understands the pain clawing inside you. Shadow’s crimson eyes don’t waver. His gaze is a heavy, constant pressure—he’s assessing, strategizing, always in control. And yet... something flickers in those eyes. Fear? No, not fear. Desperation.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he says, voice as calm and measured as ever, but there’s an underlying current, a tension he can’t quite mask. He’s trying to stay composed, but you know him better than that. He’s scared.

“I don’t think I’ve ever thought clearly,” you whisper, your voice sounding alien to your own ears. The room feels too small, like the walls are closing in. You can feel the air between you both, thick and suffocating.

You hesitated. The ache inside you screamed for release, for a way out, but Shadow’s presence, his unwavering strength, kept you grounded. He was always there, always watching, always ready to intervene. And in this moment, he was the only thing tethering you to the world.

“I’m not… like you,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I’m not strong. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

He stepped closer, his movements careful, deliberate. “You are strong,” he said quietly. “You’ve survived this long. That’s more strength than you realize.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks now. “But I’m not. I’m nothing. You… You’re strong, Shadow. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still standing. I can barely make it through a day.”

Shadow’s eyes softened in a way that made your heart ache. He didn’t often show vulnerability, but here, now, you could see the cracks beneath his stoic facade.

“I’m not as strong as you think,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “I’m not invincible. I’ve lost people I care about. I’ve failed before… But I won’t fail you. I won’t lose you.”

When you’d first met Shadow, you hadn’t understood why he was drawn to you, why he stayed, despite the darkness that clung to you. But over time, you’d realized it wasn’t about you, not really. It was about something deeper in him, something broken. You reminded him of her—Maria.

You hated that. Hated that you were a stand-in for a ghost, someone he could never save. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wasn’t fair to you.

But that didn’t stop the connection from forming, binding you two in ways neither of you could explain. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t right. But it was real, and that’s all you had.

“I’m not her,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “I’m not Maria.”

Shadow’s eyes softened, the faintest flicker of pain crossing his features. He knew that, of course he did. But knowing didn’t change the way he looked at you sometimes, like you were his last chance to fix something broken deep inside himself.

You could see the pain in his eyes, the weight of his past bearing down on him just as much as your own struggles weighed on you. He wasn’t just trying to protect you from the world—he was trying to protect you from yourself, from the darkness that had consumed so much of his life.

“Shadow… I…” You didn’t know how to finish that sentence, how to explain the turmoil inside you. It wasn’t just the depression. It was the constant feeling of being not enough, of being broken beyond repair.

“I don’t want to lose you.” he says finally, the words almost a growl, like they’re ripped from him against his will. He doesn’t say things like this—he doesn’t need to. His actions have always spoken louder than words. But now, faced with the possibility of losing you, he’s breaking his own rules.

“You don’t even like me,” you retort, your voice shaking, barely more than a whisper. “You don’t like yourself.”

His expression doesn’t change, but you can tell the words hit him. They hang in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. He’s never been good at hiding his disdain for himself, for the creature he believes himself to be. He knows he’s broken too, and maybe he is. But he’s strong. So much stronger than you.

“You’re wrong.” His voice is lower now, almost pleading. “You mean everything to me.”

He reached out, gently taking the blade from your hand, his touch firm but careful, never letting go of you. He tossed the knife aside and pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his grip strong but not suffocating. He’s not just trying to protect you—he’s holding on, desperately. Like if he lets go, even for a second, you’ll slip away, just like Maria did.

You swallow hard, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t.

You buried your face in his fluffy chest, the tears coming harder now, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to cry. Allowed yourself to feel the pain that had been building up for so long.

“I won’t let you break,” he whispered, his voice low and fierce. “Not like this. You mean everything to me.” He repeated.

His words hung heavy in the air, and despite the darkness inside you, there was something in his voice that made you believe him, even if just for a moment. Maybe you weren’t as strong as him, but in his arms, you felt like you could be. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Dangerous Liaisons

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: angst, prison!loki

Summary: You do your best to make sure the prisoners of the prison you work at get the utmost care that you can give them. The prison gets a new inmate, one that you see yourself connecting with.

Squares Filled: prison au (2021) for @lokibingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

You leave the prisoner’s cell with a heavy sigh. Most of the time, you like your job because that means you’re healing people but not when they try and kill you, too. This American prison is one of the worst in the country because it houses the worst of the worst, the most dangerous individuals known to man. Your brother often tells you that you should quit and work in the hospital he works at, but you actually like it here as weird as it sounds.

Some of the prisoners are a menace that makes you want to quit your job, but there are other prisoners who think of prison as a rehab and try to get better. They’re still the most dangerous men due to the nature of their crimes, but at least they’re trying to become better.

You’re here to nurse anyone back to health because believe it or not, there are a lot of stabbings that happen here. You do your best to take care of the inmates as much as you can without letting the job affect you that much. Mental health is just as important.

You walk back to your station in the middle of the prison where the other nurses are gossiping. You try not to participate in the gossip especially when it comes to the other inmates, but it’s hard not to when you work so closely with one another.

“What are you two whispering about?” you ask.

“Did you hear? We’re getting another inmate.”

“Really? Aren't we at capacity?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Who is it?” you ask.

Neither women know the answer to that. All they know is that he is probably the worst of the worst, and that’s saying something. It doesn’t take long for the new inmate to get here, and you’re looking out the window for him. A herd of guards walks down the hallway with the new inmate stuck in between them. You gasp when you see the prisoner. You know who that is. You’ve seen him destroy New York while you were safe in your house in another state.

Loki’s chains connect his ankle handcuffs and wrist handcuffs, only allowing him enough room to take a small step forward. He has a metal muzzle on his face, covering just his mouth. He can use magic so they thought putting a muzzle on him was best to keep him from using it. He doesn’t look bothered about being here but maybe he’s really good at hiding his true emotions.

Loki looks at the nurse’s station and locks eyes with you. Even though there is a muzzle over his mouth, you can see the smirk on his face. His eyes are a powerful blue that gives his expressions away. A shiver rolls down your spine from how intense his gaze is. You’ve met and been with men who knew how to take your breath away, but never has someone been able to do that just by looking at you.

Plus, it doesn’t help that he’s extremely good-looking.

From what you can see, he has cuts and bruises on his face from what, you’re not sure. The guards take Loki to the most secure prison cell in the place. The place had been under construction for a while, probably getting Loki’s cell ready. The warden walks into the nurse’s station and approaches you.

“Consider him your new patient.”

“What?”

“I don’t want anyone else but you with him. You’re the best nurse I’ve got on staff, but don’t tell the others,” he jokes.

“Oh...kay,” you say slowly.

“Don’t worry about him hurting you. We have taken extra precautions to ensure everyone’s safety. There are guards in place if the chains fail, but they won’t. Tony Stark made them.”

“Do you need me to do it now?”

Preferably within the hour. We don’t want to give him an excuse to be let out.”

You go as soon as you can just so you can get this out of the way. You don’t know Loki, only what he’s done, but you know more than most that your actions don’t define who you are. Look at some of the prisoners here. They know what they did was wrong and are trying to better themselves for it even though they may never be released from prison.

You gasp when you see Loki chained up like some animal. The muzzle is still on his face and a chain is hooked to the chain connecting his arms and legs. That chain is connected to a hook on the floor so he can’t escape. Loki is a magical being that is over a thousand years old (yes, you did research on him). If he wants out of the chains, he’s getting out. Why isn’t he? Why did they let him take him? The other inmates have free roam in their cells but Loki is chained to the ground.

How is that fair?

You walk up to Loki and look into his blazing blue eyes. They’re like oceans. He looks like he’d be the quiet one even without the muzzle on.

“Hi, my name is Y/N. I’ll be your nurse. I’m here to clean you up and make sure those cuts aren’t going to get infected.” He doesn’t say anything, obviously. “I’ll be by every day to make sure your wounds aren’t infected and to check your vitals to make sure you’re not sick.”

You roll over a table and put your first aid kit on it, pulling out the things you need. You use a cotton swab to clean up the blood around the edges of the wounds before dabbing a paper towel on the wounds gently. He doesn’t seem to be in pain and if he is, he doesn't show it.

“Let me tell you a little bit about me so you’re not uncomfortable with me. I started working here about six years ago. It’s not always the best but I love what I do. My brother who is a doctor wants me to work in his hospital but I don’t think I’d ever leave here. When I’m not working here, I like to do ceramics. I have a kiln at home where I make my own bowls and other little sculptures. I don’t need the money but I like to sell them. People seem to like it.”

Loki has a twinkle in his eyes as he listens to you ramble. You do that when you’re nervous, and he really makes you nervous. You continue to ramble as you clean his wounds, finishing in just over an hour later. You leave his cell and return to the nurse’s station in thought. You did minor research on Loki when he attacked New York, and you set a reminder to do some more when you go home tonight. It doesn’t matter what anyone at this prison has done. No one should be locked up like an animal. Your coworkers don’t share the same views as you, but everyone is entitled to their opinion.

When you return to work the next day, the first prisoner you see is Loki. There are guards located outside of his cell twenty-four-seven but you don’t think Loki will escape… maybe. You walk to his cell but the guards don’t move from their spot. Each prisoner gets an hour of your time each day with the more severe cases getting an extra one. They like Loki to be last so that you can focus on everyone else and not give him special privileges, but there is no way you’re putting his health risks below others.

“Excuse me.”

“We can’t let you enter.”

“What did you just say?”

“The warden said--”

“I don’t care what the warden says. My job is to take care of prisoners with wounds, and Loki has several cuts not only to his face but upper chest. Cuts that if left untreated will get infected causing him to be sick and possibly die. Even if he didn’t have anything physically wrong with him, you have him locked up like some animal so he isn’t getting exercise. His muscles will start to atrophy. Now, do you want me to report that to the warden or do you want to step aside and let me do my damn job?”

Both guards look at each other before stepping away from the door. You lift your nose up and yank the door open before walking inside. Loki looks up when he sees you and almost smiles at the determination on your face. You roll the same first aid cart over to Loki and remove the bandages to check on his wounds.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. What was I supposed to say to them? It’s not right how they’re treating you.” You grab more cotton swabs and wipe away the leakage that’s expected to come from the wounds. “Anyhow, aren’t Gods supposed to self-heal?” You pause. “That’s what I hear you are. You and Thor. Gods. Norse Gods, actually. Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous. You make me nervous.”

You grab the stitches to stitch two wounds together since they are deep enough to leave a scar if not properly healed.

“I read about you when I got home last night like some stalker fangirl.” Your eyes widen. “Which I’m not, by the way. I just… I saw what you did to New York on TV. I know what you did in Germany.” His eyes grow sad. “Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re as bad as they say you are. We all make mistakes, right?”

Of course, he doesn’t answer. You take your time in stitching up the two wounds before cleaning the rest of them and putting bandages back on them. Next, you check to make sure the restraints aren’t on too tight because you’d hate if you were the one being restrained and it was uncomfortable.

“Are you uncomfortable?” you ask. He shakes his head in response. “Have they brought you any food?” Another shake. “Are you hungry?” This time, he nods. “Okay, I’ll be right back with something to eat. Any preferences?”

Your joke makes the edges of his eyes crinkle. He’s smiling underneath his muzzle. That’s a good sign, you think. You leave and head to the cafeteria to get a tray of food for him. You sneak in one or two extra items just because you’re feeling generous. The door to the kitchen slams open and the warden walks in with fire in his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“No, what do you think you’re doing? Are you keeping food from Loki? He deserves to eat.”

“A monster like him doesn’t deserve that. Plus, he’s not even human.”

“If he doesn’t eat, he’ll die,” you glare.

The warden shrugs as if that doesn’t bother him. He looks at the tray in your hands before leaving. You roll your eyes and continue filing the tray until you have more than enough for him. The guards don’t give you any trouble when you return back to Loki’s cell. He looks up and sees the food. He has to admit, he is hungry but he doesn’t think he’d accept any food if it didn’t come from you. You two have only known each other for less than two days but he feels a sort of connection with you that he has never made with a human.

You roll the first aid cart over to you and clear off the top before putting the tray there. With both hands free, you reach up and touch the clasp of the muzzle.

“I’m going to take this off now. I don’t think it’s right that they have this on you like some kind of animal.”

You remove the muzzle but Loki still doesn’t say anything. Since his hands are chained, you have to feed him but he doesn’t seem to mind. You take your time and ramble on about the different sculptures you’ve made, momentarily forgetting where you are.

“I’m not gonna put this back on,” you say about the muzzle once Loki has finished everything you brought to him. “Like I said. I don’t think it’s right.” With the muzzle off, you can see the hint of a smile on his face. Loki shifts and you look at the restraints on him. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m going to loosen your restraints just a little. They look tight.” You use the master key and loosen his restraints, allowing him some more room to stand properly and move about. “Is that better?” He nods. “I’ll be back later with more food and to check to see how you’re doing.”

You take the empty tray and leave his cell. You spend more time checking on the other prisoners than you’d like only because two of them got into a stabbing match in the courtyard. After you get done with them, you go back to the nurse’s station to grab some snacks from your lunch box. It’s better than eating that slop in the cafeteria.

You’re the last one left in the nurse’s station since all the others have gone home for the day. You have more patients than the others because most of them request you to fix them. It doesn’t matter what someone did, you’ll treat them the same way you treat everyone else. It’s better for your conscious.

All of a sudden, the lights go out in the station only for bright red lights to replace them. Alarms echo down the hallway, and most of the prisoners become erratic from the sound. Someone has escaped. They only put those alarms out when someone has escaped from their cell. It better not be Jacobson. He has a habit of finding new ways to piss off the warden.

You continue putting food on the tray when you feel a breeze a your back. The door is open. You look up and see a figure standing behind you through the reflection on the window. That’s not Jacobson. For one, he’s a very lanky short man. The man behind you is tall… very tall. You’re frozen in fear because you have no idea who is behind you. If he wanted to, he could kill you without a second thought.

“Hello, darling.” The man steps underneath the red light and you see those piercing blue eyes. You turn to face Loki as he walks closer to you. His voice is much deeper than you thought it’d be… much more raspy. You must have loosened the restraints too much. He reaches out to you and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not scared,” you say truthfully.

“Good girl,” he grins. “I wish I could stay but I have somewhere I need to be. Believe me when I say I’ll be back.”

He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. Just like that, he’s gone. You believe him when he says he’ll be back. Funny thing is, you’re kind of looking forward to it.

x

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[fictionismyreality3]

His Favourite Rookie

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, military stuff, guns n weapons, nsfw at the end because I’m a whore

Notes: the way I would be offering to do his paperwork 😩✋ I have issues.

It was rookie day, and Price was ready to whip a new batch of wide eyed privates into shape. Clearly he had his work cut out for him if they were already fighting.

“You’re supposed to be a fuckin’ team.” He sighed, disapprovingly pulling two privates off of each other. “We don’t need a girl on the-” Before he could reprimand the out of line private, a scrappy looking recruit did that for him, punching the guy. “Huh? Say that again.” You were definitely on his radar after that.

Quickly took you under his wing. You were young, impressionable, a little too eager to prove. He couldn’t help being a little harder on you. He just wanted you to succeed.

Your back hit the mat with a slam, the wind getting knocked out of you. “Again.” “Sir, we’ve done this so many-” “Again.” Early mornings spent on the sparring mats with your Captain had become a routine. “Legs out. Atta girl, much better.” He muttered, hands lingering a little too long on your hips to be professional.

Having to take you on your first mission with him was probably the most stressful experience of his life. He was literally losing his mind with worry the whole time.

Bullets whizzed past your head and two large hands pulled you by your hips back into cover. “I had it, I was fine.” “Don’t get too cocky, love.” It was wrong to hover over you when you were one of the most capable recruits he’d seen in a while. But he couldn’t help it. “Aye, let the lassie take the shot.” Price knew he was in deep if Soap was the voice of reason.

It didn’t matter when the lines blurred. Months after all the other rookies had bailed or left the program, you remained. Call it favouritism, but Price had kept you all for himself.

“That’s it, you- fuck, you take it so well for me.” One of Price’s hands threaded into your hair, yanking harshly. “Just want you to do well, sweetheart.” Little yipping mewls fell from your lips every time his cock slammed back into you, his desk shaking. “C’mon, show me what you learned. Fuck back on my cock. That’s my girl.” Your usual excuse of sparring lessons wouldn’t cover the limp you’d have.

[letsgetrowdy43]

Midnight magic—

Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Request: 🐞 with Jack and "i couldn't kiss you all day! let me make up for it now." please <333

Warnings/notes: I'm back to slowly working through the remaining requests!! Also no warnings other than making out!

[Closed] End of summer celebration!!

Midnight at the lake house had become a sacred time between Jack and Luke's best friend. The latest hours of the night were dedicated to quiet confessions of feelings and lust fuelled secret kisses, a stark contrast to the days when they pretended to be nothing more than acquaintances.

Jack had never expected to fall for her. She was Luke's best friend from university, someone he’d known for a few years but never truly seen the way he did now.

At first, she was just the girl who tagged along with Luke, who cracked jokes, who beat him at cup pong a few times every summer.

But then something shifted.

The summer nights grew longer, the air warmer, and suddenly, Jack found himself stealing glances at her whenever she laughed, lingering in the kitchen just to talk to her a little longer. It was almost pathetic how he switched up, going from not caring to feeling the urge to know every little detail about her.

Now, these midnight rendezvous had become their little secret.

When the others were asleep or too deep into late-night card games to notice, they’d slip away. Out into the stillness of the night, the lake reflecting the soft glow of the moon, the world quiet save for the gentle rustle of trees in the summer breeze. It was as if they were out of sight and out of mind to the others, and they loved just how easily it was to sneak away to back in the glory of the other even if it was just for a few moments.

Tonight was no different, Jack had waited all day, watching her from across the table at breakfast, from the dock while they swam, and even at dinner when she sat beside Luke, laughing at his jokes. It had been torture not being able to touch her, not being able to kiss her. But the risk of anyone finding out, especially Luke, was too high. So, they kept their distance, only to find each other again under the cover of night hidden away from the rest of the sleeping housemates.

Jack leaned against the back of the house, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, waiting for her to join him outside, where they could talk as loudly as they felt and be as intimate as possible without fearing any unwanted eyes.

She appeared quietly, like always, slipping out the back door, the silhouette of her figure illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light. Her steps were light and careful as she walked towards him, and his heart began to race like it always did whenever she came near, her smile small as his hoodie hung loosely on her frame.

As she approached, she smiled—one that made his chest tighten in a way that only she could. Without a word, Jack pulled her into his arms, pressing her back against the wall of the house, their bodies close, but still careful. He studied her face, a slow grin spreading across his lips.

"I couldn’t kiss you all day," Jack whispered, his voice low, teasing. He gently brushed his thumb against her cheek, the touch sending shivers down her spine, "let me make up for it now." Her eyes flickered up to his, playful and full of the same longing that had been simmering all day, "you think that’s gonna cut it?" she teased back, her voice soft but daring, "you’ve got a lot to make up for, Hughes."

He chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he closed the gap between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that had been waiting for hours to happen. It was slow at first, soft as if he was savouring the moment. But it quickly deepened, his hands tightening on her waist as she curled her fingers into the soft material of his hoodie, pulling him closer like she couldn’t get enough of him.

That is the thing about the little arrangement between them, it was everything. It was silent and hidden, but it held the weight of the world. All the secret touches, the unspoken glances, and everything that remained between them was like ignition that lit this intense sense of romance of fire.

Jack broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against her lips, "Missed you all day." Her breath was ragged as she smiled into the next kiss, "you saw me all day," she said smugly, fully understanding the feeling of needing the other in ways that they couldn't be open about, but she also liked to hear him say it aloud. "Doesn’t count," he whispered back, gently pouting while shaking his head before pressing his forehead to hers, their breath, "not like this."

The world as Jack kissed her again, more slowly this time, savoring every second of it. Each kiss felt like it was full of the things they couldn’t say in front of everyone else, the feelings they had to hide.

His hands slid up her sides, brushing the hem of her sweater as he pulled her closer, kissing her as though he was making up for every hour they’d spent apart. She melted into him, her body pressing against his as hsi fingers found the freshly showered curls at the name of his neck, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

They pulled away after what felt like forever but was likely only a minute, their foreheads still pressed together, their breathing ragged before she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his jaw and then one to his cheekbone.

"We’re gonna get caught one of these days," she said in between kisses as his arms wrapped around her torso, a teasing lilt to her voice as he tried to bite back a grin. Jack smirked, brushing his lips against her once more before replying, "not tonight, but eventually, most definatley."

She laughed softly, her hands still holding him close as they stood there, the world quiet around them. "I think I'd be okay with that," she mumbled as she weighed out the theoretical pros and cons. "I'd most definitely be okay with it," he shrugged as she grinned at his nonchalantness, loving the idea of being openly able to show his growing feelings for her.

Midnight at the lake house had become their time, a place where they didn’t have to hide, where they could just be. But for how long, they didn’t know.

-

-

-

This was really quickly made so if it's bad don't tell me, I'll cry.

[inkandtension]

What's Left

Broken! Minho x Hurt! Reader

The night was heavy with the scent of rain and earth, the air thick and suffocating. Y/N stood at the edge of the crumbling balcony, their hand gripping the cold stone railing. The city below was cloaked in shadows, a sea of lights swallowed by the storm clouds gathering above. They had been standing there for what felt like hours, watching the world move on without them.

Behind them, Minho stirred.

"You think standing out here will change something?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade. Y/N didn't turn around. They didn't need to. They could feel him—his presence clinging to the air, dark and suffocating. It was always like this with Minho. He never stayed away for long.

"I don't expect anything to change," Y/N replied, their voice hollow, distant. "I just needed a moment."

"A moment?" Minho’s laugh was sharp, cruel. "A moment won't fix you, Y/N. A moment won't fix us."

Y/N’s grip tightened on the railing, knuckles white. The words hung between them, heavier than the storm that threatened to break above. They both knew it was true. Nothing was going to fix them—not the endless nights of silence, not the fleeting touches, not the words unsaid. Not even the twisted bond that tied them together could make sense of what they had become.

And yet, Minho was still there. He was always there.

When you finally turned to face him, Minho was leaning against the doorframe, his silhouette half hidden in the shadows. His eyes were cold, hard, and yet there was something in them, something fragile—something you could never quite reach.

"Why do you stay?" your voice was barely more than a breath, a whisper caught in the storm.

Minho’s lips curled into that familiar, crooked smile. It was the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. "You think I have a choice?"

Y/N didn’t answer. They both knew the truth. Whatever twisted, rotted thing existed between them, it had been there for too long. Minho’s heart, battered and broken, still belonged to you. As much as he tried to deny it, to fight it, he couldn’t escape the hold you had on him.

"You’ve always had me, Y/N," Minho said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer. His voice was softer now, laced with something darker, something almost... tender. "Even if you don’t want me. Even if I’m nothing but a shell."

Y/N watched him approach, the storm rumbling in the distance. There was something tragic in the way Minho carried himself, as though the weight of his own existence was too much to bear. His eyes, once so full of life, were now hollow, haunted by memories neither of them could forget.

"It’s not about wanting you, Minho," Y/N whispered, their chest tightening. "It’s about what’s left."

Minho stopped just inches from them, his gaze locked on theirs. For a moment, there was only the sound of the storm, the wind howling around them, and the distant crash of thunder. Then, slowly, Minho reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. His touch was cold, almost mechanical, but you didn’t pull away.

"It’s always been about what’s left," Minho murmured. "And what’s left is mine."

you closed your eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. you could feel it—the darkness inside him, the decay that had taken root long ago. But beneath all of that, buried deep within the ruin, there was something still alive, something that pulsed weakly, but steadily.

His heart.

"It’s broken," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. "You’re broken."

Minho laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "I’ve been broken for a long time, Y/N. But you knew that, didn’t you? You knew it from the start."

you opened your eyes and met his gaze. In that moment, there was no anger, no hatred. Just the two of them, standing in the ruins of what had once been. Fragments of what remained.

"I don’t want to fix you," you said softly. "I never wanted to."

Minho’s smile faltered, just for a second, and in that moment, you saw him. The real him. The one who had been hiding behind the cruelty, the madness, the darkness. The one who had been waiting, hoping, for something—anything—to change.

But nothing ever did.

"Then why do you stay?" Minho asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached up, your hand covering his, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt warmth. Not from Minho, but from the connection between you both—faint, fragile, but still alive.

"Because," you said, their voice steady, "what’s left is still mine."

It’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. Even when his eyes flicker with madness, when his smile curls at the edges, jagged and wrong, there's a part of him that never strays too far. You own the crumbling pieces, the ones he hides beneath layers of venom and spite. He may not admit it—he’d rather burn the world than speak it aloud—but in the quiet, in the spaces between his cruelty, it’s there.

Beating. Faint.

Still yours.

[szynkaaa]

Zhu Bajie and the Violet Spider (and i guess all the other tragic love stories)

Alright, finished Chapter 4 in my NG+ and here are some of my thoughts, ramblings and musings about Zhu Bajie and the Violet Spider. Also will be going with Black Myth Wukong's version of JTTW

Everything is under cut because long text

What we know:

ZBJ was an Admiral in the Celestial Court, there was a maid working there who was crushing on him and took care of him at some point. ZBJ gets cast out from the court into the mortal realm and turns into a pig. Maid tries to follow him, but gets turned into a spider because the word pig (猪zhū) and spider (蜘蛛Zhīzhū) sound similar and she thought he turned into a spider.

The pilgrims run into White Bone Demon, who turns into 3 mortals and each time SWK beat them down. It is not explained how they fell in love or why, just that he was in love with her. The subtitles from the scene:

ZBJ: "It was her tricks that made Master drive Wukong away" Old Monkey: "On White Tiger Ridge, he forsook his lover. Three times he broke her into pieces, convincing himself his heart would ache no more. Yet, as you must know, he had never let go of her. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so eager to get away from the Buddahood he attained."

Side note, in CN the old moneky says "他倒是狠心绝情", which translates to "he was very cruel and heartless".

Like all the other demon in the book they wanted to eat Tripitaka because they were convinced that would grant them immortality. In JTTW, White Bone Demon transforms herself into a young lady, then elder woman and then old man, pretending to ask for help. Each time SWK was able to see through her disguise and he struck them down. Tripitaka thought he was killing innocent mortals so he sent SWK away, said he wasn't one of his disciple anymore. iirc ZBJ was not helping lol.

I hope the DLC will shed some more information on the romance, but I also understand if they don't elaborate further. According to some redditors the White Bone Demon romance is a nod towards another game Game Science worked on where SWK and White Bone Demon where a thing.

Later on in their journey, ZBJ sees a bunch of pretty women bathing. He turns himself into a fish. The Violet Spider recognizes him and I guess they reconcile?? or not really because the spiders also try to kidnap and eat Tripitaka and SWK leaves ZBJ to take care of the spiders, he killed everyone except the Violet Spider, who had to eat the remains of her sisters in order to survive.

Speculation from my side is if SWK knew about ZBJ history with the Violet Spider. I think it would be interesting for them to have a conversation about it at some point, since both of them had demon lovers who tried to eat their master so they were forced to kill them (except ZBJ spared the Violet Spider). Maybe SWK wishes he had that option too instead of living with the pain later on. A lot of wiggle rooms for interpretations and headcanons.

lot of shit happens. they finish their travel, SWK attains buddahood. Realizes he hates the court life, also cannot let go that he had to kills his past lover. just wants to chill with his homies and be back on his mountain. and the circlet is still there. hatches his masterplan to die so he can be reborn and be truly free

Throughout the game and dialogues in the game, we know that there were several monkeys/Destined One attempting to retrieve all 5 artifacts and become SWK. The way I understood is, if you reach the bad ending, the cycle starts a new. a new monkey will arise and try again until said monkey reaches the True Ending.

It is very heavily implied that the 4th spider was in love with one of the reincarnation, and they were supposed to get married or have gotten married. but alas monke has to continue his main quest, and he never returned back to her.

My question is, do each Destine One reincarnation retain memories from previous Destined One? Does "our" Destined One know who she is and what he means to her? fun things to also think about.

Oh yeah also pretty sure ZBJ and the Violet Spider got married in chapter 4 LOL. Very questionable marriage since ZBJ was not in a place to consent to it and was pretty much forced into it. But she came out wearing a red wedding dress and then sisters were telling him what to do and not to do, and they were also saying he is the one mother wants all those years even though they disagree with the choice. And then later on before the Violet Spider boss battle, iirc ZBJ says she should have just eaten him before the vows and stuff. Either she mates and then eats her husbands LOL. and her daughters also feast on the newly wed husband.

Heavily implied that the youngest spider kid is ZBJ and Violet Spiders kid. At least that's how I interprested the scene, why else would she show him the youngest daughter? Also all the daughters were born after ZBJ killed Violet Spider's sisters and left her to die, as they say it all happened before they were born so they cannot understand mother's obsession

My 2 cents: None of the spider sisters share the same father. I believe that the Violet Spider would find a new mate, get married, consumate the marriage and then eat the husband. Probably got pregnant from each marriage. It seems like the spider sisters are also very familiar with the ritual ( also LOL would the 4th spider sister have eaten the Destined One??). I also thought at first that Chapter 4 is the first time since JTTW Zhu Bajie bumped into the spider sisters and Violet Spider, but after my NG+ playthrough I realize that would not make much sense. If the youngest daughter really is their kid, then that means they must have met before the current event and JTTW.

We know that this is also not the first Destined One ZBJ met: when we rescue him in chapter 3, he says something along the line "great another mute" - implying he has helped other DO before. Which also means he has visited the spider lair with the DO before, so my guess it is very likely that he may have done the deed with the Violet Spider, and this is how the youngest daughter was conceived? And then he and the Destined One left once again, leaving the 4th Sister and Violet Spider behind again. I think that this would also "make sense" why the Violet Spider was so obsessed and hung up on ZBJ in chapter 4. It couldn't have been "just" what happened in JTTW, some more things must have happened in-between. ZBJ constantly picking bros before hoes I guess.

Fan speculation is also that the reason why ZBJ cannot be with the Violet Spider is to protect them from the Celestial Court.

We have 4 different love stories in this game: SWK and White Bone Demon, Zhu Bajie and the Violet Spider, Destined One and 4th Sister and then the Bull Demon King and Princess Iron-Fan.

I don't haven't started my chapter 5 playthrough yet but the gist I got is that their story isn't a happy one either and controlled by the Celestial Court. It sounds like none of the love stories have a happy ending and in one way or another, the Celestial Court is the cause for it. SWK and White Bone Demon doesn't fully fall into that category, but in JTTW it is said that all the demons they encounter were all orchestrated by Buddha, where they have to face 81 trials. Putting that into BMW's version of JTTW, technically a higher being still interfered with their love story and "forced" SWK to kill his lover, if they put White Bone Demon into their way. Again, this is just my musing and headcanon, and nothing of this is confirmed.

This is my opinion, but I personally love that Game Science gave both SWK and DO and ZBJ a love story, some more obvious than the others. It just adds a more human touch to the overall story of the game that I personally love.

Now excuse me while I go try to smooch a stone monkey.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Queen of Curses

The air was heavy, thick with the stench of cursed energy that lingered like a toxic fog around the temple. You could feel it seeping into your skin, crawling through your veins, every breath you took a reminder of the dark, twisted world you were part of. The pain in your chest was unbearable—like fire scorching your insides, burning with every pulse of cursed energy you had absorbed.

Sitting just outside the temple, your knees were pulled to your chest, sobs wracking your body. You hadn’t wanted this. Not any of it. When Suguru Geto left, when he had turned his back on Jujutsu society, you couldn’t follow him. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave the world you knew, even if a part of you had always understood why he did.

But now, you had been forced to walk the path he had chosen.

The school had broken you. After you had refused to join Suguru, they had found a way to break you, to use your cursed technique until your body could barely take it. Every curse you absorbed felt like swallowing shards of glass, shredding you from the inside out. Your power, so similar to Suguru’s, had always been more painful to bear. It wasn’t just the act of absorbing the curses—it was the way they ravaged you from the inside.

And tonight had been the worst. They had pushed you too far. They wanted more, always more. No one cared that your body was breaking, that your soul felt like it was withering under the weight of each curse. All they cared about was how much power they could extract from you.

The temple doors creaked open behind you, and the sound of footsteps echoed through the courtyard. You didn’t even have the strength to lift your head, your entire body trembling from exhaustion and pain. The sobs you had tried so hard to suppress finally escaped, your cries shattering the quiet of the night.

"(Y/N)?" The voice was familiar—dark, soothing, yet filled with an edge of concern. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Suguru Geto.

You hadn’t seen him in what felt like years. You had heard rumors, of course. That he had gathered followers, that he had become a powerful cult leader. That he was feared, revered. But hearing rumors wasn’t the same as seeing him again. You had never expected to come face-to-face with him like this—broken, sobbing at his doorstep.

You heard his footsteps stop just in front of you, his presence towering over you. He crouched down, his large hand resting gently on your shoulder. "What happened to you?" he asked, his voice softer than you remembered.

The moment he touched you, the dam you had built inside yourself shattered, and you broke completely. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. "They... they’re killing me," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Every curse... it hurts so much. I can’t—" Another sob wracked your body, cutting off your words. You could feel your strength slipping away, leaving only the unbearable weight of the pain behind.

Suguru’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind his calm exterior. He didn’t speak for a moment, but the anger radiating from him was palpable. His grip on your shoulder tightened, but it wasn’t harsh. It was grounding, as if he was trying to anchor you to something solid amidst the chaos you were drowning in.

"Why didn’t you come to me sooner?" he asked, his voice a low murmur. There was no accusation in his tone, only concern. Only the faintest hint of regret.

You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze. "I didn’t want to follow you," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I didn’t want to become what they wanted me to be. But now I... I don’t have a choice."

Suguru was silent for a long moment, his hand never leaving your shoulder. Then, slowly, he moved to sit beside you, his presence warm and steady. He let you cry, let you release all the pain and frustration that had been building up inside you. He didn’t rush you, didn’t demand explanations or apologies.

When your sobs finally subsided, leaving only quiet sniffles and the occasional hiccup, Suguru turned to you, his expression unreadable. "You don’t have to fight this alone anymore," he said, his voice firm, but gentle. "Come with me."

You hesitated, your heart clenching painfully at his words. "I didn’t want to follow you because... I didn’t want to become like them," you whispered, gesturing vaguely toward the temple and the people inside who had forced you into this life.

Suguru’s gaze softened. "You won’t," he promised. "You’re not like them. You never will be. But you’re like me, (Y/N)." He lifted his hand, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that surprised you. "We’re the same. And I won’t let them hurt you anymore."

His words wrapped around your heart like a balm, soothing the ache that had been festering there for so long. You had always admired Suguru, even before he had turned against the world. There was a quiet strength in him, a resolve that you had always lacked. And now, in this moment, you could see that strength extended toward you—not to control you, but to protect you.

You swallowed, glancing up at him, your eyes filled with uncertainty. "What are you asking of me?"

Suguru smiled then—a soft, almost wistful smile. "I’m asking you to stand by my side," he said simply. "As my equal. As my queen."

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart skipping a beat even though you technically didn’t have one. "Your... queen?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yes. I’ve always known there was no one else like you. You’ve always been different, (Y/N). You deserve more than what they’ve forced on you. You deserve to be free. And I can give you that."

A part of you wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that you weren’t strong enough, that you weren’t worthy of the position he was offering. But deep down, you knew that Suguru saw something in you that you had never been able to see in yourself. And in this moment, with the pain still fresh in your body, with his steady hand guiding you, you realized that maybe he was right.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes again—this time, not from pain, but from the overwhelming relief of knowing that you weren’t alone anymore.

"I’ll follow you, Suguru," you whispered, your voice steady. "I’ll stand by your side."

Suguru’s smile widened, and he stood, offering his hand to you. You took it, letting him pull you to your feet. His hand lingered on yours, a silent promise that he would protect you from the pain that had haunted you for so long.

"You’ll never have to endure that pain again," he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You’re safe with me now. Always."

And as you stood there, hand in hand with Suguru Geto, the man who had once been your friend, your mentor, and now, your king—you realized that you were ready. Ready to embrace the power within you, and ready to become the queen he saw in you.

[ruvviks]

the way i need to write about roksana so bad

[bootyful-seventeen]

hey y'all, anyone have any good stress relief tehniques or habits they'd like to share cuz I've been more stressed in the last 3 weeks then I was in the last 6 months

[dq1]

thinking again

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Kafka

[kbwrites]

Husband! Nanami with his Pregnant wife

cw: nanami x f!reader, pregnant sex, masturbation, nanami loves his wife nsfw under the cut!

sfw

Once you become pregnant with Kento Nanami’s child you don’t lift a finger.

Even if you wanted to.

This man would be at your beck and call all 9 months of your pregnancy.

You wake up every morning to a big breakfast and a smoothie chock full of all the veggies and fruits you need to stay healthy.

Daily footrubs!

And back rubs.

Says it’s to alleviate your aches and pains, but he secretly loves any reason to touch his beautiful wife.

Don’t even THINK about reaching for anything too high.

He’s rushing towards you, resting his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for the mug.

“Please dear, allow me.”

Dropped something?

“I’ve got it, honey.”

Need to put your shoes on? He’s resting your foot on his knee as he ties your sneakers.

There for every doctor’s appointment. Cries the first time he sees the ultrasound.

Is so patient with you, handling you with such care through your mood swings.

“It’s alright dear, I know you’re frustrated… Come sit down and I’ll rub your shoulders hmm?”

Has no problem waking up in the middle of the night to get you your midnight cravings.

Arguably the perfect husband.

nsfw

He thought it was physically impossible for you to be any more attractive.

But then he sees you drinking a glass of water in the kitchen, one hand resting protectively over your bump in a beautiful flowy dress he had gotten for you.

Feels ashamed at first. He doesn’t wish to bother his darling wife, especially when she’s going through so much.

Resorts to locking himself in the bathroom, rutting his hardened length between his fist and sucking in a breath as he imagines your swollen breasts and belly round with his seed.

Bites back a moan as his cum spills from his flushed tip down his hand and shaft.

He doesn’t get away with it for long though, you’re too smart. It’s one of the reasons he fell for you.

Not giving him time to protest, you grab his large hand and lead him to your bedroom.

He wants to tell you not to worry about him and his trivial needs, that he worries he might hurt you.

All those restraints die in his throat when he sees his precious wife climb on top of him, sliding down onto his length.

“O-oh… darling” he purrs, enraptured by the way your breasts bounce with each movement. He gives them a gentle squeeze, loving how sensitive you’ve become.

His honey-colored eyes glaze over as pleasure washes over him, painting your walls white.

Secretly wondering how long you should wait before he gives you another child.