#you have to agree with them on everything too

[xfgpng]

control …

— [ nsfw ] kissing, dry humping, first kiss + they’re both virgins

— wc :: 1.2k

caleb likes to think he’s in control of everything that happens around him. he’s always been pretty good at controlling his emotions and schooling his expressions and he tries not to overreact.


that’s the problem with her, she throws him off balance in the best and worst ways and it leaves him feeling so unsettled.

the thing about college, it’s supposed to be the best years of your life and he doesn’t know if he agrees or disagrees with that. if he really thinks about it, it’s bullshit but he knows why he feels that way.

he keeps himself composed most days, he has no reason to act out of character but this is something new to him.

caleb wasn’t naive enough to think this would never happen, he just always thought he’d be able to handle it well but he cannot. his hands feel clammy and his hot around his neck. is this even normal? he doesn’t fucking know.

he wants to lie and say he’s completely normal about her having other guy friends but he’s definitely not. his skin crawls whenever they touch her shoulder, grab at her wrists even if it’s completely platonic and innocent.


he especially hates when they lean in to close to talk to her when they’re at a party and the music is too loud. those are the nights caleb avoids alcohol like it personally offended him.

he cannot trust himself to be sober in these situations, he doesn’t want to imagine what he’d do with his evol even if the thought sends a thrill through him. he knows he has a problem, he’s just not going to deal with it.

not in a healthy way at least.

“caleb?”

he snaps out his thoughts, smiling down at where she’s laying on the floor in his dorm room. she’s supposed to be studying but she’s distracted and he shouldn’t enable her but he always does. she’s just too pretty, she has a face you cannot say no to and you’d be insane to disagree.


he’d like someone to disagree, that would be a fun day for him and a very unfortunate one for them.

“i’m listening” he lies. if he had been, he would’ve heard what she asked him and understand why she’s being all shy right now.

“wait.. what?” he sits up, looking at her properly. he definitely has a problem if he’s thinking about her so much and she’s right next to him.

“.. it’s stupid” she frowns

“it’s not” he reassures. he means it sincerely because he is willing to do whatever she wants. he hopes she doesn’t know that.

“i just .. i haven’t had my first kiss yet and i know some people think it’s a big deal and maybe it is but how will i know?” she looks up at him and she looks so upset by this so he tries not to panic.


was she seeing someone? did she like someone and that’s why she was thinking about kissing?

caleb could tell her it’s too early to worry about that and maybe she could just focus on college but that would be selfish of him. so selfish.

“i could teach you” he says and it’s out before his brain can even process any of that shit but it’s too late now because her eyes widen and she sits up so fast.

“what?” she asks because even he can’t believe what he just said.

“i just mean if you’re that curious” he smiles, playing it cool.

“you’d do that for me?” she stands now, moving to sit on his bed right in front of him and he will kill his roommate if the fucker comes back now.

“you know i would” he shrugs like it’s nothing even though his heart his beating so fast.

and that’s the thing about control, he always believed he was in control of everything in his life but the moment their lips touch, he feels his entire world shift and he doesn’t know if he’s breathing but she trusts him.

he has his hands on the side of her face before he can stop himself and she gasps softly into the kiss that he can’t help but lightly bite her bottom lip. she likes that, or so it seems because she doesn’t push him away.

her lips taste like the peach flavoured lipgloss she likes to wear and her skin is soft beneath his fingertips.

“is this okay?” he asks, running his thumb across her lower lip. she’s so beautiful, it hurts.

“yes…” she nods, “… can we do more?”

“more?” he tries not to show how excited that makes him.

“with tongue” she whispers

he doesn’t need to be told twice and her moan makes it hard to focus on anything other than her lips against his and how hard he suddenly is.

he slips his tongue into her mouth and she learns pretty quickly, he hasn’t even kissed anyone either but he’s seen enough videos and he’s always been a pretty fast learner himself and he would be damned if she had this experience with anyone that wasn’t him.

she moves closer, her arms around his neck and he can’t pull her onto his lap. if he’s being honest, he’s been hard since she said yes to the kiss but he would never want to overwhelm her. her first kiss is special because it’s them, he wouldn’t rush this.


that is something he can control.

“does that feel good?” he asks because her comfort is the most important thing to him.

“yes” she sounds less shy now, more like herself and she’s smiling so sweetly he can’t help but lean back in and this time she takes the lead and he likes how she lightly pulls at his hair. he didn’t know he’d be into that but he’s learning a lot about himself since being in college.

she climbs onto his lap on her own and if she feels how hard he is, she doesn’t comment on it which he appreciates. she’s always been considerate and just so perfect he thinks he might combust.

“put your hands .. on my waist” she tells him and he nods, as if he’s in some sort of trance now.

he’s not embarrassed about the grinding or the fact that he cums in his pants 10 minutes later. he’s still a fucking virgin and she doesn’t seem to care because she moans loud enough for him that he knows everyone down the hall heard her and only a small part of him hates that, he knows when he’s alone he’s going to be pissed that they heard how pretty she sounds but right now he wants to keep kissing her.

[lieslab]

If we could only turn back time

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Chan X gn reader

Summary: After a Dispatch article leaks, your betrayed boyfriend kicks you out of your shared apartment and you're silenced in the worst way possible.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 5.1K

Trigger warning: Misunderstood trope, physical assault, anger, yelling, a car accident, plus graphic descriptions of physical injuries, and doctors/hospitals.

A/N: I had three hours of sad One Direction music, one request, and a dream. Requestee, you asked for angst and I have given it my all. I hope this meets every expectation and more <3

_ _ _

You were the light of Bang Chan’s life. At least, that’s what he thought. For months, his love grew for you. Over time, he opened up more and more. You crawled into his heart and made yourself at home. 

And then you tore it open. 

He thought he finally had the love of his life, but it turns out, you were just like the others. Not really loving him, but dragging along, clinging onto clout, and when the next man came, you jumped with both feet. You didn’t even say goodbye, but neither did he. 

There was no warning for either of you. One day, the two of you were head over heels for each other. The next, everything fell apart. Hearts cracked like stained glass. Tears fell, but the words from both of you didn’t provide the comfort the other so desperately craved. 

In the end, two hearts ripped apart. The world tipped in the wrong direction. You both lost your footing and for weeks, nothing would be the same for either of you, ever again. 

~ ~ ~ 

When you came home from buying groceries, the apartment was quiet, like usual. Chan’s warm presence had been gone since this morning. Up at the crack of dawn, he disappeared to continue making his dreams come true. 

You missed him when he was gone, just as he missed you, but dreams were important. No matter what happened between the two of you, it was the one thing you both agreed that it was important. No matter where your life took you, the most important thing was keeping focused on your dreams. 

Yes, the two of you were in love, but that wasn’t stopping either of you from pursuing your passions. Not yet engaged, the two of you vowed to be supportive of each other. Through thick and thin, in the risky moments, and everything in between; you swore to be there for one another. 

Your bare feet glided across the tile floor with ease. Without Chan, the apartment felt empty, but that didn’t stop you from trying to make it feel warm and fuzzy. Over on the side counter, you turned on the candle warmer. Maybe by the time Chan got home, the apartment would be full of a welcoming vanilla buttercream. 

You swore his cologne had hints of vanilla. He disagreed with you and insisted you didn’t know your scents. Just to prove a point, you bought the vanilla candle, and yet, he refused to see it.

He could be stubborn like that sometimes. Certain things he couldn’t see. No matter how hard and how obvious you attempted to make these things, he refused to see them. Sometimes, it was more frustrating than anything, but you learned to deal with every part of him; the good and the bad. 

You had your own set of flaws, too. Out of everyone existing in the world, there was nobody that you wanted to be with more than Chan. The two of you were still so young. There was a lifetime of adventures and fun to have. You were hoping the relationship between the two of you would last forever. 

It ended when Chan stormed through your front door. The bang of the front door slamming against the sidewall sent your heart racing. You grabbed a can of peas for defense and held your breath. 

Footsteps stormed through your living room. Your fingers turned pale around the can. A sigh of relief fell from you when you saw the furrow on Chan’s face. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me. What’s wrong, baby? What happened?” 

You put down the can and walked towards him. Your hands stretched out to grab his face. To your surprise, he swatted them away. Your eyes widen at the faint sting. “What are you-” 

“You don’t get to baby me after what you did!” 

“I-I did something? What did I-” 

“Shut up! You don’t get to pretend like you don’t know! You know I’ve felt like a piece of shit because I can’t be here twenty-four-seven! You know I travel for work and yet you still choose to hurt me in the worst way possible!” 

Confusion filled your face and it just pissed him off more. He jerked his Samsung phone from his pocket. You watched as he typed in the password. Your actions from the past few days rolled through your head like stop-motion. Each silent click, more scenes filled your head. 

None of them stood out. You couldn’t recall what you did wrong, but Chan was furious. Your mouth opened, but words didn’t come out. He flipped the screen to find the bold words of a Dispatch article. Your heart hit the ground with a sickening splat. 

Trouble in paradise: A Rocky Road Ahead For Stray Kids’ Bang Chan’s Romantic Relationship. 

Attached, two photos of you grinning at another JYP idol from another group. In one, you were waving at them. In another, you were leaning over and hugging them. 

“It’s not what it looks like!” 

“Really? Because you know what it looks like to me? It looks like you were attempting to hide a close relationship with someone in a younger group.” 

“That’s not true! Chan, it’s Dispatch! You can’t possibly believe that I-” 

“I want you out of my apartment.” 

Your face fell at his words. “You…you wouldn’t. Please, just let me explain and I-” 

“When have you ever talked about him? Never! You’ve never been close to another idol! Yet now, you’re hugging him?” 

“Chan, please!” 

“Get out!” 

“But-” 

“Out!” His voice raised. “Get your stuff and get the fuck out of my apartment! Don’t bother coming back!” 

The words were loud enough to frighten you. You left the grocery bags scattered on the kitchen island and took off. Tears filled your eyes. You wanted to explain, but he kept cutting you off. 

Too heated to think about the situation, his insecurities got the best of him. In the kitchen, he slumped against the counter with his head in his hands. Warm tears filled his eyes at the sound of your sniffles. 

He wanted to comfort you, but the hurt was too much. He grew to love you with everything he had and within one Dispatch article, his swollen heart popped. How could you do this to him? After everything the two of you had been through, why did you have to ruin it? 

Tears blurred your vision and you didn’t look back. You jerked items from the closet and tossed them in your suitcase. Grabbing handfuls from each of your dresser drawers, you tossed them in with everything. Even the toiletries, you didn’t have time to organize them. 

Chan wanted you to go, so you’d leave. At the end of the day, this was his apartment. You paid rent, but his name was the first on the contract. He paid the down payment, not you. 

You gave him one last desperate look as you passed by, but he didn’t see it. His name fell from your mouth in a weak croak, but he didn’t pull his hands from his eyes. “Please, just go away.” 

You spun around, gripped your suitcase tighter, and then you did. 

~ ~ ~ 

All night, you drove around without a destination in mind. You refused to call one of Chan’s members and plead for help. It’d only stir up drama in the group. That was the last thing you wanted. 

Numbness hung over your head. You still couldn’t believe everything that happened a few hours ago. If he would have listened, he would have understood. The tears dried up a while ago, but the empty feeling in your chest didn’t go away. 

Seoul’s late afternoon crept into another dark night. Gray blotted skies drifted into a pitch black. Neon lights reflected off the paint on your car, but the warm colors didn’t warm your heart. 

The car felt lonely without Chan. You’d give anything to hear his laughter from beside you. The playful banter while he reminded you to turn on the correct turn signal. It’d been a constant inside joke between the two of you. Ever since you accidentally flicked on the wrong signal and turned the wrong way, he’d never let it go. 

The way he tipped his head forward. Messy tendrils of dark hair fell over his forehead. His squeaky laugh warmed your heart. Such a far comparison from the anger that rattled the apartment walls earlier. 

You poked his dimples between the stoplights. On nights when the two of you wanted to get away from everyday life, you found peace in this car. You’d drive and be in control for once. He’d sit beside you with a hand on your thigh. 

Simple conversations filled the car. Love pooled between the two of you. Shared laughter, quiet conversations, and the secret getaway that your car provided you’d do anything to turn back time. 

You loved him for a reason. You always had and you always would. Just because photos told one story, it didn’t mean they told the entire story. Snippets didn’t capture the truth. The context was important, but Chan was too distraught tonight. 

Too stressed out. Too angry. Too frustrated. Things built up and that article was the breaking point. Those photographs became thorns in your relationship. In one day, the roses wilted. Withered petals gathered at your feet. 

Tomorrow would be better, you reassured yourself as you drove. Tomorrow, Chan would realize he was wrong. He jumped the gun in this situation. In the morning, he’d call you and apologize. 

Tomorrow, you’d be welcomed home with a heartfelt apology and a bouquet of fresh flowers. A glass full of red wine, sweets, and a home cooked dinner. Tomorrow, things will be okay again. These tears were temporary. This hurt wouldn’t last forever. 

At a stoplight, you grabbed your phone and dialed Changbin’s number. On speaker phone, you waited and waited, but he didn’t pick up. If anyone would know the truth and be able to rationalize Chan’s brain, it was him. 

The red light from the stoplights highlighted faint tear streaks. You sniffled, wiping your long sleeve across your dripping nose. Your eyes shut and your voice cut out and quivered as you spoke. 

“Please know that I didn’t mean to cause him or you guys any harm. I ran into him the other day and asked if he could help teach me a dance. He’s one of JYP’s best dancers and I know Stray Kids are busy. His group is on break and I just thought I could surprise Chan with a dance.” 

“Saying it out loud, I get that it’s stupid now. I was just hoping it’d cheer him up. He’s been so stressed lately. I thought the least I could do was make him laugh.” 

“If you get a chance and if he’s willing to hear it, please let him know I love him. I love him and I’m sorry. Dispatch is stupid and I hate them. You can even ask that idol and he’ll tell you the same thing. I’m so sorry, Changbin. I’ll talk to you later. I have to find a place to stay tonight.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shut your eyes. After clicking the end call button on your phone, you threw the device into your passenger’s seat. Maybe if you were lucky, Chan would hear out Changbin. Level-headed and rational, you knew Chan appreciated the advice he gave out. 

A car horn honked behind you. Your eyes quickly reopened and the green light stared back at you. Unblinking, you grumbled beneath your breath. “I’m going, I’m going, geez.” You inched out into the intersection, expecting to continue going straight. 

You weren’t expecting your car to jerk left. Your screams blended with the sound of crushing metal. Orange sparks flew. The sickening scent of burnt rubber and diesel hit your nose. Your seatbelt cut into your neck and briefly cut off your air flow. 

The last thing you remembered was the horn of the semi-truck vibrating your entire car. 

~ ~ ~ 

It wasn’t Dispatch that was the first one to find out about the devastating car accident; instead, it was Jeongin. He sucked in a deep breath as he walked into the hospital. Last night, after struggling with the flu, someone admitted his friend to the hospital. 

He mumbled beneath his breath, trying to figure out what to say. A blue medical mask sat over his nose and mouth. He knew to keep his distance, but he still felt awful that they were here. 

Hospitals were lonely. In the brief moments when families and friends disappeared. When the nurses were following their routine rounds and doctors were checking in on other patients, people were left alone. The isolating white walls. The uncomfortable piercing beeps from the heart rate monitor. The cold IV drips, distributing medicine directly into the bloodstream. 

Surgical stitches ached. Disease weighed heavily upon the lungs. Intubation and the mechanical push and pull of oxygen and carbon dioxide. Hospitals were the opposite of warm and welcoming. Cold and sterile, he rather wished his friend was at home. 

The colorful bouquet of multicolored flowers was the brightest thing in the hallway. Closed doors with numbers passed by as he walked. The nurse’s announcement of his friend’s room number echoed in his head. 

It dissipated when he heard your name from a nurse in a cracked room. Before he knew it, he was pushing the door open and stepping inside. On the hospital bed, you were unrecognizable. Scrapes and cuts laced your face. Both plum purple eyes swelled shut.  

The right side of your face puffed up unnaturally. Black stitches poked out from the bottom of your lip. That was just your face. That wasn’t beginning to touch the cast on your arm and the rest of your body hidden beneath the blue covers. 

He knew it was you. He recognized the promise ring on your ring finger. He had helped Chan pick it out. He glanced around, searching for Chan, but he wasn’t there.

“Are you lost?” 

He glanced up to find the nurse. Her blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail. She observed him through black, circular-rimmed glasses. 

He shook his head and repeated your name. The nurse frowned and he pointed to you. “Is this-” 

“Are you family?” 

“Brother.” 

You weren’t biologically related, but it felt true deep down. 

~ ~ ~ 

Changbin tried to bring the situation up to Chan, but every time he spoke your name, Chan would shut down. From what Changbin knew, Chan didn’t know what happened to you. The rest of the guys did, but they all received the same results. Every time they spoke your name, Chan grew irritated and short-tempered. 

“I don’t want to talk about them! Stop bringing them up! Enough!” 

The charming and charismatic leader unraveled at the seams. His heart was full of love for you and you ruined it. That wasn’t something he took lightly. The hurt oozed out in other ways. 

His songs weren’t coming together as easily anymore. He used to get your feedback when he went home, but now the apartment was empty. The bed was colder without you. He was lonely, but he wouldn’t admit it. 

He snapped during dance practice. After he snapped at a manager, a manager lectured him about authority and respecting his elders. Nobody understood the hurt that he was going through. It didn’t help that Dispatch began showing up and bothering him. 

They could take all the pictures they wanted. He’d never give them the satisfaction of breaking his heart. Instead of listening, he put on his airpods and cranked up the music. He shoved through the camera flashes with his baseball hat low and a face mask covering the rest of his face. They didn’t deserve to turn his heartbreak into entertainment. 

He’d never let them break him. They already did it once. You were gone and the longer you went without a call or a text, he assumed they were right. They caught you cheating and you accepted it. You didn’t fight for your relationship. 

You didn’t call and beg for him to take you back. You didn’t call and try to explain. He sent you one text, but you never opened it. He was at a complete loss without you. 

Some would call him stubborn for it, but he’d say that he was just trying to protect himself from more hurt. 

~ ~ ~ 

The lonely days for you didn’t stay lonely for long. Jeongin discovered you hours after your accident. The days slipped by, but you weren’t alone anymore. Unconscious and pumped full of medicine, sure. They were far from lonely. 

Every evening, the guys took turns hanging out beside your bed. Seungmin would sing the songs you liked. Jeongin told you funny stories of Chan, trying to bring you back to consciousness. Minho brought you warm comments from the fans who found out about your accident. The rest of the guys had their own things, but Chan’s voice never filled the room. 

Stuck in a coma, things were dark. Occasionally, you could hear the beeping of your machines. You could feel your lungs expand and compress unnaturally. Your body felt like a shell more than anything. Voices came and went, but never Chan’s. 

In the darkness, you couldn’t see. You weren’t sure if you were dead or not. Stranger’s voices appeared in soft whispers and then they faded. You weren’t sure what was going on, but you knew you were exhausted. 

Those audible voices and sounds never lasted for long. You couldn’t feel pain. Every sensation within you felt numbed. A heavy fog filled your head and something clouded your vision. 

You attempted to open your eyes every so often, but they didn’t budge. Someone glued them shut. Every limb tingled with tiny pins and needles. You didn’t know if this was death, but it didn’t feel comforting. Somewhere between the realm of the living and dead, doctors kept you in a medically induced coma. 

How else could they heal the swelling of your brain? ~ ~ ~  

“I can’t take this anymore!” Felix cried out. He shoved himself from the chair and pulled out his phone. “This is such bullshit! I’m tired of keeping this from him.”

“Well, we’ve tried. What do you propose we do? Tell him to get to the hospital without mentioning his significant other’s name?” Seungmin crossed his arms over his chest. “Good luck. We’ve tried everything and it’s been twenty-something days.” 

“Actually, that’s exactly what we should do. How much longer can this go on for? This is pathetic, even for him! I get that he’s hurt, but look at them!” He reached over and gestured towards your bed. 

You remained intubated and unmoving. The swelling in your puffy eyes faded a little more each day, but they still looked awful. The stitches in your lips disappeared, but a fresh pink scar remained. 

Swirls of purple and blue smeared along your face. Broken bones reset and were on the mend. You were a living miracle. The first responders were afraid you wouldn’t make it, but when they pulled you from the wreckage, you continued breathing. 

So he unlocked his phone and hit Chan’s contact name. 

“Hello?” 

“Chan?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You need to get to the hospital right now. Call me when you get here.” 

“WHAT?” 

“I can’t talk. Just call me when you get here.” 

“Felix!” 

He grimaced and hung up the phone. Seungmin shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You probably gave him a heart attack. He’s going to kill you when he gets here, you know?” 

“That’s a problem for later.” ~ ~ ~ 

Chan flew from his apartment. His heart pounded in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. Losing you was hard enough. If anything happened to a member of his group, he’d never forgive himself. 

“Come on, come on!” He fumbled with his seat belt in one hand. With the other, he swung his car door shut. In seconds, he jerked the car in reverse and slammed the pedal. 

He lurched down the driveway, spun the wheel with a rubbered squeal, and shifted the car into drive. The engine roared and he sped down the road. 

What-ifs grew stronger on the way to the hospital. His breath caught in his throat and he struggled to stay calm. Last he knew, everyone was fine so what happened? Who? How bad was it? 

The moment he parked, he whipped out his phone and dialed Felix’s number. When Felix responded, his voice came out frantic. “I’m here! Where are you?” 

“Room one-twelve. I’ll meet you half-way. I’ll see you soon.” 

“Wait, who is-” 

Click. 

“Fucking hell!” He cried out. He grabbed the keys, sped from the car, and rushed towards the automatic door. 

Everything was a blur inside. Voices appeared from the waiting room. The receptionist glanced over the front desk and eyed him, but she didn’t stop him. He glanced left and right and opted to go left. 

The carpet disappeared beneath his feet and turned into squeaky clean white vinyl. An easy material to clean and disinfect daily. He rushed forward when he saw Felix appear down the edge of the hall. 

The squeak of his shoes didn’t matter. He ignored the doctor he passed that told him to stop running. By the time he reached Felix, he grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “Who is it? What happened? Tell me!” 

“Just, come on.” 

“Felix!” 

Felix didn’t budge. He grabbed Chan’s wrist and pulled him along. His chest filled with anxiety and his lungs compressed. When the pair appeared at the right door, Felix dropped his wrist and slowly pushed the door open. 

He expected to find Han or Jeongin. A broken and battered Hyunjin or Changbin hooked to oxygen. This was the intensive care unit. This was for the severe cases. The patients that required a close eye and keen detailing. 

Upon seeing you, his face fell. The bruising upon your face. The tube down your throat. Your lifeless skin and unmoving limbs. There was no sign of the life the two of you created. 

No reassuring smiles, or laughter. Seungmin sat solemnly beside your bed in a chair. “I’m shocked that you finally made it.” 

“What the hell happened?” He hurried to the opposite side of your bed. His hand reached out, but he didn’t touch you. Too frightened by your state, he didn’t know where he could touch without causing you pain. 

“Try their hand,” an unfamiliar voice spoke up. He whirled around to find a nurse in blue scrubs. “Their hands survived the crash. You can touch their hands if you wish.” 

“Sorry, I came in to get some vitals. It’ll only be a few moments and then I can leave you alone. Visiting hours are open until eleven o’clock tonight. I’ve never seen you here before, so I thought you should know.” 

“How long have they been like this?” He whispered. Tears filled his eyes and his heart ached. 

“Since the night you told them to leave your apartment.” 

“What?” 

“Felix!” Seungmin’s voice shot out sternly. “It’s not like that, Chan. Yes, the accident happened that night, but don’t beat yourself up over it. A driver of a semi-truck was speeding and couldn’t stop in time.” 

“That was nearly a-” 

“I’m sorry, hyung.” Felix’s hand appeared on his shoulder. “We tried to tell you, but every time we tried to utter their name, you were angry. We should have found a better way to tell you, but…” He trailed off, unsure of what else to say. 

The nurse grabbed your vitals and disappeared to give the guys time with you. Chan collapsed to his knees and grabbed your hand with both of his. For nearly a month, you’d been stuck in this bed. He thought you’d given up on the relationship with him. 

This entire time you haven't texted him back. Not because you were angry. Not because you were sad. Not because Dispatch’s rumors were true. But it was because you physically couldn’t. Intubated and trapped in a medically induced coma, you couldn’t reach out, even if you wanted to. 

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, I-I thought that they-” 

“Easy, hyung.” 

“What did I do? What the fuck did I do? If I wouldn’t have kicked them out of the apartment, this wouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have been so angry. I should have let them explain.” 

Seungmin shot Felix a look. He shrugged and gently rubbed Chan’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Channie. You were hurting and you didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

He was supposed to be the leader. A strong pillar and an even stronger influence on his younger members. As the eldest member, he was supposed to be reliable. At that moment, he crumbled. Tears appeared in his eyes as a sob broke from his chest. 

No wonder you had been so quiet. He called you once and hit your voicemail. He longed to hit the call button, just so he could hear your voice again. He squeezed your hand tighter and pressed it against his cheek. 

“Wake up. Wake up, baby, please! Come back to me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I'm so sorry!” 

Tears blurred his vision. He struggled to comprehend your mangled face. Your other hand sat wrapped in a cast. You must have been so broken when you arrived here. He wasn’t here to comfort you. He wasn’t here to try and console and cheer you up. 

A wheeze fell from his throat. The betrayal slicing through his heart disappeared. This time, he felt like he was the one that had betrayed you. He hurt you in the most unimaginable way possible. 

You laid here broken and half-dead. You spent hours fighting for your life alone. And where was he? Walking around your shared apartment drowning in his own self-pity. He’d never forgive himself for this. 

“What is this?” He finally whispered after his sobs faded away. His throat was raw. His voice came out scratchy. “How bad is it?” 

“The doctor said they should wake up at any time. They weren’t breathing on their own. A medically induced coma ensured to make sure their brain’s swelling could stop.” 

“It was that bad? They’ve been suffering through all that alone?” His bottom lip quivered. He grew afraid of the response he’d receive. 

“No,” Seungmin spoke up. “Jeongin found out first. He was the one that notified us. He said he tried to tell you, but when he showed up at your apartment, you told him to leave.” 

Horror filled Chan at the memory. Later that same night, back when you left, Jeongin appeared on his front porch pale. Instead of hearing out the younger member, he told him to get lost and slammed the door in his face. Deep down, he was afraid to be viewed as weak in front of the younger member. 

The memory stung his heart. Poor Jeongin just wanted him to know the truth and he slammed the door in his face. No wonder Jeongin seemed so nervous around him. He was probably worried that Chan would find out the truth and yell at him for not telling him. 

He rubbed his face and pawed at his eyes. “So does everyone know?” 

“Everyone besides you.” 

“Sorry you’re late. None of us knew how to get you here. You’d never listen when we tried to talk about them.” 

“I was such a stupid, selfish asshole.” 

“You were hurting,” Felix corrected him. 

“And a stupid, selfish asshole.” 

“You were.” 

“Seungmin!” Felix cried. 

“No, I want him to know that he was. I’m not going to sit here and pity him. You were a jerk, Chan. I hope you remember this moment whenever you try to act like an asshole again.” 

The words were a slap in the face, and yet he wanted to laugh. As harsh as Seungmin’s words were, they rang true. He was a jerk and maybe, in the cruelest way possible, this was his karma. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but paused when your fingernails scratched at his hand. The tube in your throat caused you to choke. You couldn’t fully see as your eyes half-opened. Still swollen, your vision remained limited. Silhouettes appeared and voices became more distinct. 

“Get a nurse!” 

Footsteps hit the ground. You gargled and reached your opened mouth. “No, no, no! You can’t touch that yet.” 

“Easy, love. Try to relax and don’t fight the tube. It’s breathing for you right now.” 

The distress and quickened-pace of the heart rate monitor hit a hiccup. Chan’s familiar voice grounded you, but you still struggled with the tube. Your lungs wanted to expand, but the machine compressed them. You choked again, still fighting the pesky thing. 

More footsteps. Another silhouette. Glasses on an unfamiliar face and latex rubbing against your skin. “It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m going to take this out now, okay? On the count of three. One, two, three!” 

You gasped and coughed at the removal. Your lungs filled with air of your own accord. More coughing. You attempted to swallow, but your mouth was so dry. The lingering phantom of a headache filled the side of your head. 

“Try a sip of this, sweetheart.” 

The nurse’s tone was honey to your ears. You swallowed the water the moment it hit your lips. One swallow and then another. Two more and suddenly, you were gulping like crazy. 

“Easy, or you’ll choke,” Chan gently reminded you. 

The nurse pulled the glass away when you finished. “Do you know where you are?” 

“Hospital?” 

“Do you remember your name?” 

“Chan?” 

“I’m right here, honey. I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. Do you remember your name? This nice nurse wants to help you get better. Your doctor is on his way.” 

Every question asked, you answered it perfectly. A buzz of excitement swirled around the room from your consciousness. Seungmin and Felix left the room to give everyone the good news. 

When the doctor concluded you were stable, he disappeared with the nurse. A silence fell between you and Chan. You still couldn’t see perfectly, but you could feel the weight of his hand in yours. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry for that night.” 

“I don’t want to talk about that night.” 

“I was an idiot.” 

“Dumbass,” you weakly corrected him. 

“I see getting hit by a semi-truck hasn’t taken away your sass.” 

“If I can survive this, I can survive anything.” 

“I love you and I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, I love you and I don’t want to hear anything else about that. I’m so tired. Can you sing me to sleep or something?” 

“If I do, promise you won’t die?” 

“I promise.” 

Even if you couldn’t make out his face, you knew his voice, and that was good enough for you. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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[nhlclover]

FALLING FOR YOU WILL SMITH

pairing: will smith x marleau!daughter!reader

summary: a visit to the guest house, in an attempt to comfort will after a grueling loss, brings you two closer together than ever.

warnings: friends to lovers, pretty detailed make out scene, talks of being insecure

wc: 2.02k

notes: !!IMPORTANT!! i absolutely do not agree with the politics of the marleau family, they are simply being used as a plot device in this. pretend for the sake of this that the family are not bigots.

The house is silent except for the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of old wood settling in the night. Shadows stretch long and languid across the hallway, cast by the dim glow of the streetlamp filtering through the curtains. You move with practiced stealth, each step careful. Years of navigating this house have taught you exactly which floorboards creak under a footstep, which door hinges squeak in protest when nudged too far. Even still, your breath stills in your chest as you slip past your parent's bedroom door, past your brothers' rooms, your heart beating a steady rhythm of anticipation. The guest house isn’t far — just across the backyard — but trying to tiptoe in absolute silence past your parents' bedroom door and past your brothers' doors makes it feel like an eternity away.

Will had looked wrecked when he came home. The Sharks game had been brutal, a 7-2 loss to Florida, and not even his highlight-reel goal could shift the dejection that settled over him like a heavy coat. You saw it in his posture the moment he stepped off the rink: the slump of his shoulders, the tight line of his mouth, the way he avoided the gaze of everyone in the locker room. You had seen it in the post-game debrief he always did with your dad, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against his thigh. You didn’t have to ask to know what was running through his mind. You felt like you knew his thoughts as though they were your own.

It wasn’t always like this. When Will first moved in, things had been awkward. He was polite — too polite. He made his bed with military precision, thanked your mom after every meal, and practically sprinted out of the room whenever he sensed he might be intruding on family time. You weren’t sure if it was out of respect or if he was just trying to survive in an unfamiliar house. Either way, it took weeks before he loosened up, before the sharp edges of his formality softened into something more comfortable.

Somewhere along the way, he had become your closest friend. He was the person you whispered late-night confessions to, the one who could tell when you needed someone to listen rather than someone to talk. And it went both ways. You had spent hours sprawled across the couch in the guest house, talking about everything and nothing. You told him about school, about how you weren’t sure if biology was what you actually wanted to study. It was supposed to be the safe, responsible choice, the thing that made sense. But the more you immersed yourself in it, the more it felt like wearing a sweater that didn’t quite fit. He listened, really listened, in a way that made you feel like you weren’t overthinking things. And in return, he let you see the parts of himself he hid from the world.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he had admitted one night, voice rough with exhaustion. “I mean, I know what I should be doing. I know what’s expected of me. But every time we lose, every time I don’t produce, it feels like — I don’t know. Like I’m letting everyone down.”

You had seen the articles, heard the analysts questioning whether he was adjusting well enough to the NHL, whether he was living up to expectations. You knew he heard them, too, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise.

Will knew he was living with Patrick Marleau so he could be moulded into a better player, something like what the Sharks legend once was. But some nights, it felt like you had done more for Will than your father ever had.

The guest house is dark except for the thin sliver of light spilling beneath the door. You knock, softly. A pause. Then the rustling of movement before the door swings open, revealing Will standing in the dim glow of the lamp inside. His hair is damp from a shower, curling at the edges, and he’s wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, surprise flickering across his face before he steps aside to let you in.

“You should be asleep,” he says, voice rough with exhaustion.

“So should you.” You cross the room, your socked feet near silent against the hardwood. “But we both know that’s not happening.”

He exhales, a ghost of a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. He collapses onto the couch, the television murmuring in the background showing a post-game analysis droning on about the Sharks’ mistakes. He doesn’t mute it, but his focus is entirely on you as you settle beside him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

The room is heavy with unspoken words, the kind that settles in the air and refuses to dissipate. Will’s eyes flick to the television, then back to you, his jaw tight.

“Tough game,” you say softly.

Will’s jaw tightens. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I know I played like shit.”

You tilt your head, watching him carefully. “I don’t think you did.”

Will shakes his head, eyes dark with frustration. “We lost by five. Doesn’t matter if I scored, doesn’t matter if I had the best shift of my life. We still lost.”

Your heart clenches. “Will, the team is rebuilding. You knew that coming in.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think I’d be a part of the problem.”

“You’re not.”

He shakes his head, jaw tight. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he leans back, tilting his head against the couch cushions, eyes slipping shut. His breathing evens out, slow and measured, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fade.

You shift slightly, resting your chin on your knees. “You’re a rookie in the NHL. You’re playing against the best in the world every night. No one expects you to carry this team, least of all yourself.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. “You’re getting better every game,” you continue, voice gentle but firm. “And the guys in that locker room? They know that. This season isn’t about wins, it’s about building something. And you’re a part of that foundation.”

Will lifts his head and shifts slightly, angling his body toward you. His eyes search yours, dark and unreadable. “How do you always know what to say?”

You shrug, offering a small smile. “I pay attention.”

A beat of silence. Then you notice it — the way his gaze lingers on your face, tracing over your features with something heavy and intent. You suddenly feel warm, hyper-aware of the fact that he’s shirtless, toned torso on full display, and the way his breathing has changed, now slightly uneven.

“What?” you ask, your own voice quieter now.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and his head tilts slightly. His gaze lingers, sweeping over your face with an intensity that makes your pulse stutter. The air between you shifts, thickens, as if something unspoken has settled into the space, waiting to be acknowledged.

“Will,” you say softly, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. “What?”

He exhales slowly, shaking his head with a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Spell what out?”

His eyes darken, and his fingers twitch slightly where they rest against his thigh. He leans in just enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the heat radiating off his skin, the scent of clean soap and something undeniably him.

“You know I want you.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Your lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. He watches you, waiting, giving you a moment to react, to pull away if you want to. But you don’t. You can’t.

Because you want him too.

The realization hits you with startling clarity, and before you can second-guess it, you close the space between you. It’s tentative at first, a brush of lips, a question unspoken. But the moment his mouth moves against yours, the hesitation dissolves. His hand comes up, cupping the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheekbone as he deepens the kiss.

Your fingers settle against his bare shoulders, the warmth of his skin beneath your touch making your head spin. He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s thought about it just as much as you have. There’s something desperate in the way he pulls you closer, something that tells you he’s afraid this might not be real.

You pull back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Will.”

His forehead rests against yours, his breathing uneven. “Yeah?”

Your heart hammers against your ribs. “I want you too.”

His breath hitches, and then he’s kissing you again, slow and deep, like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth against his. Will pulls away, but barely, his eyes searching yours.

“You sure about this?” Will’s voice is rough, barely more than a whisper, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you.

You nod, barely, but it’s enough. “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes. He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time, and then he’s kissing you again. This time, there’s nothing hesitant about it. It’s deep and slow and intoxicating, like he’s savoring every second, like he’s afraid to rush something he’s wanted for so long.

His hands find your waist, warm and firm, fingers flexing as if grounding himself in the moment. You shift instinctively, moving closer until your knees are brushing his solid thigh, until there’s no space left between you. Your hands slide over his shoulders, tracing down to his chest, resting on him as you lean closer. He shivers under your cold fingers, just barely, and the realization that you affect him just as much as he affects you sends a thrill through your veins.

Will’s hands move down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion, his strength effortless. You let out a surprised gasp, breaking the kiss for just a second, but his hands splayed against your back, holding you close. He grins, eyes dark with something wickedly fond.

“Better?” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

Your lips curl into a grin, but your heart is racing. “Shut up.”

His laughter is quiet, a vibration against your chest, but it fades as his gaze dips to your lips again. He kisses you like he means it, like he’s wanted to do this forever. His hands trace slow, soothing patterns against your back, anchoring you to him.

The television drones on in the background, forgotten, the post-game analysis long past. The only thing that exists at this moment is the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his hands cradle your face like you’re something precious. He kisses you with an aching sort of tenderness like he’s memorizing you, like he never wants to forget what this feels like.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to look at you properly, his expression is unreadable — something caught between wonder and disbelief. He exhales a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he admits, voice rough with emotion.

You run your fingers through his hair, smoothing the damp curls away from his forehead. “I can.”

Will's lips curve into a slow, lopsided smile, something soft and unguarded. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your back, like he’s committing the moment to memory.

“Yeah?” he murmurs.

You nod, brushing your nose against his. “Yeah.”

For the first time all night, the weight of the loss seems to ease off his shoulders. He exhales, a quiet, content sound, and lets his forehead rest against yours.

“Stay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. “With me… tonight?”

You don’t hesitate. “Always.”

And as he pulls you closer, the Sharks' loss feels like a distant memory — because for once, in this tiny, quiet moment, Will Smith isn’t thinking about hockey at all.

[itadorey]

𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐓! — gojo satoru

pairing: gojo x gn!reader summary: little snippets showing how gojo satoru has always been a pain in your ass genre: fluff and angst #lol #soz word count: ~3k notes: sorry. spoilers for shibuya arc and onwards, mentions of jjk 236. also this is the only thing i've written in months so i'm kinda rusty

Gojo Satoru is a pain in the ass.

More specifically, he's a pain in your ass, especially once he discovered that you're so much easier to rile up than Utahime.

It starts in high school, with meaningless bets made between the two of you that all result in endless lectures and reprimands from your respective school principals. But it's hard for you to stop agreeing to these deals when Gojo offers you a week without his presence if you manage to win.

Victories for you have become more common in recent years, with you learning how to words your agreements in a sly way that makes Gojo huff out a little laugh whenever you manage to outwit him. But your losses far outweigh your triumphs and you constantly find yourself dragged onto missions or out to new restaurants whenever Gojo wins. Which happens to be pretty often.

"I bet that the first years can beat you in a fight," Gojo says, snickering when you shoot him a nasty look. He takes a step closer to you, pouting when you distance yourself from him and speed up.

"I bet you that they can't," you retort, unable to stop yourself from disputing his statement. You don't turn to look at him, merely grumbling under your breath when he easily matches your stride.

You have no idea how you've ended up here, transferred (against your will you might add!) to Tokyo Jujutsu High to teach alongside the only man who has ever made you feel feral. And not in a good way.

The very reason for your arrival is none other than Okkotsu Yuuta, an overpowered, meek-looking teen with a cursed technique that seems to be a little more trouble than you originally thought. That's the only thing going through your mind when you're introduced to him, leaving you inattentive to the way Gojo slings an arm over your shoulders and introduces you as his significant other to the first years.

You're only brought back to the present when Panda— yes, an actual panda— congratulates you loudly, causing you to scowl and push Gojo far, far, away from you. You're the only one who doesn't notice how you actually make brief physical contact with him.

"I am not dating him. I'm your new instructor," you say sharply, introducing yourself before turning and walking out the door. The first years all share a glance before following, Zenin Maki leading the small group as she eyes you with interest. You come to a stop in the middle of the training field before flashing them a grin that can only be described as dangerous. "Now, we're going to see how much combat experience you have, so give me all you've got."

You then proceed to take on all four of the first years, all too aware of the way Gojo's stare never leaves your figure. At the end of the day, you're the proud winner of a Gojo-free week.

Your first year teaching at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech is a tumultuous one.

You learn to treasure your friends a little more, and you find yourself thinking that you've become a pro when it comes to grieving.

(You remember Geto's defeated form as you arrived just in time to see the last smile he ever gave Gojo right before he took his last breath—)

The stress of everything even has you appreciating Gojo's presence in your life a little more, and when you tell Shoko this development, she merely snorts and pulls out a cigarette. You chide her for failing to break her habit even after she's promised you multiple times, only falling silent when you realize just how tired she looks.

You've become a pro at grieving, but that doesn't mean everyone else has, so you silently slide the cigarette packet back towards her and leave her to mourn in a way that seems to work for her.

The months that follow feel like a blur, and you get sent on plenty of missions to fill time. Your bets with Gojo seem to occur more often, and you find that you don't necessarily dislike hanging out with him whenever he wins. You wonder if the previous year has helped him mellow out, and you find yourself thinking a friendship with Gojo is possible. Especially after everything the two of you have dealt with.

Your appreciation for Gojo ends up fizzling out when you learn from Maki that he's been telling the new first year, Fushiguro Megumi, the same lies he tried telling the second years when you first arrive. It isn't long before you find out that Megumi is incredibly perceptive, and he doesn't fall victim to Gojo's lies about your nonexistent relationship.

Unfortunately, the two other first years aren't necessarily as... insightful as Megumi is, and all it takes is for them to see the way Gojo smiles when he's around you to believe that the two of you are meant to be.

Itadori Yuuji is a young boy that you think is a little wise beyond his years. When you hear about how he ate— yes, consumed— Sukuna's finger, you change your mind. He's seen a lot in the past few days, and it almost amuses you to see just how upbeat but jaded he seems. Seeing him interact with Megumi reminds you of sweeter times, back when you were their age and spent your afternoons sharing snacks and chatting with Utahime, and you feel an awful heaviness weighing down your heart when you realize just how small they seem.

You're tending to Megumi's wounds when you meet Yuuji for the first time, and you can't help but roll your eyes when you hear Gojo call out your name.

"This is my partner," he whispers loudly to Yuuji, lips turned up in a fond smile as you give Megumi the all clear. There's a mildly irritated huff that escapes you as you turn to greet the newest first year, but you can't help the way your lips twitch when Gojo tries to pinch your cheek and you swat his hand away. Megumi's suspicious eyebrow raise goes unnoticed by you as Yuuji bows in greeting, an easy smile on his face as he looks between you and Gojo.

"The two of you make a nice couple," he comments before his gaze drifts over to Megumi. You open your mouth to dispute Yuuji's statement but he makes his way over to Megumi before you have the chance to actually speak. "Woah! Fushiguro, what happened to you?"

The two boys walk into Megumi's bedroom, softly conversing as Yuuji pokes at the bandage on his cheek. You watch them fondly, sighing softly before turning around to leave.

"I bet I can also convince the third first year that we're dating," Gojo sings as he walks beside you, causing you to flinch away from him.

"I bet you can't," you respond automatically, feeling your stomach drop when he shoots you a cocky grin. He doesn't say anything before splitting off down another hall, shouting a quick goodbye to the two boys who are still wrapped up in conversation. You hope that Kugisaki Nobara is smarter than Yuuji.

Kugisaki Nobara is not smarter than Yuuji.

You have hope for the first five minutes you interact with her, fighting a smirk when you notice her immediate disdain towards Gojo. There's a judgmental look on her face as he introduces himself, and you can't help but straighten up when her gaze lands on you and her eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"It's very nice to meet you," you say softly, introducing yourself and giving her a soft smile. She smiles back at you, her expression becoming strained when Gojo pulls you into his side.

"We're dating!" he proclaims proudly, earning a quiet groan from you. Nobara looks between the two of you skeptically, and you feel confident that she's going to call out his lie until she turns to look at her fellow first years.

There's a bored look on Megumi's face, but Yuuji is nodding his head enthusiastically, his eyes shining as he glances at you and Gojo. You shake your head in response, and Megumi's lips twitch in amusement at your contrasting demeanors. Your embarrassed state is apparently proof enough for Nobara, and she gives you a sympathetic look as she turns to face you once more.

"You're so brave," she whispers to you, wiping a fake tear from her eye before turning to Gojo. "And you're punching above your weight."

She promptly turns around and walks off before he can respond, leaving you fighting back a giggle as Megumi and Yuuji follow her. Gojo wilts at her words momentarily before turning to give you a dazzling smile, lifting his blindfold just enough for you to see him wink at you.

"I win!" he declares, laughing when he notices the way your eyebrows furrow in frustration. He turns to follow after Nobara, casually reaching for your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours before pulling you along. "Come on! We can't stand here all day, we might lose the kids."

He smiles when you don't really make a move to pull your hand away from his and makes a mental note to take you to your favorite restaurant this time.

"I bet I can take out more curses than you."

Your statement is quiet, a familiar phrase meant to try and calm your nerves. You're met with a bored glance from Nanami, and you huff when he crosses his arms and shakes his head.

The atmosphere in Shibuya is unsettling, and even though you have complete faith in your abilities as a sorcerer, you can't help but feel a chill run down your spine when you think about what's to come.

"You should be making that bet with your boyfriend. Not me," Nanami says in response. You scowl at him in return, rolling your eyes when you catch sight of the amused smirk on his face.

"He is not my boyfriend," you mutter petulantly, all too aware of the way your statement lacks its usual bite. There's a quiet hum from Nanami before silence engulfs the two of you, and then—

"Are you sure about that?"

"Nanami!" you snap, feeling your cheeks warm as you turn to shove him. He barely moves, and you half-heartedly let out a string of curses as he chuckles. The tension you previously felt is broken momentarily, and you feel a brief moment of happiness as you joke with your friend. "Yes, I'm sure."

"I'm just saying," he continues, his tone even as he does his best to not give anything away. "Yuuji seems to think that the two of you are perfect for each other. I've heard quite a lot about how sweet he thinks the two of you are together."

"I can't believe Yuuji believed him," you mutter, shaking your head. There's a part of you that can't help but wonder what exactly it is that Yuuji sees that makes him think you and Gojo are a bona fide couple, but you tell yourself that now is not the time to dwell on that.

"Well, those younger than us tend to be more perceptive sometimes," Nanami says, unintentionally answering your internal question.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

There's another moment of silence between the two of you before Nanami calls your name, bringing your attention to him once more.

"I'll accept your bet, but when I win, you have to take Gojo out to dinner."

"When you win?" you ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow as you stare him down.

"Yes, when I win," he says, doubling down on his statement. "You need to take Gojo out. As in a date. Who knows? Maybe you'll finally understand Yuuji's point of view when it comes to you two."

"Deal," you say, eyes narrowing when he holds out his hand for you to shake.

That's the last time you ever have contact with Nanami, and later on in the night when you find his body, you can't help but wonder which one of you had actually won your silly bet.

But as you discovered a year ago, you're a pro at dealing with grief, so you give yourself fifteen minutes to collect yourself before setting out to find your students.

After all, you now have to figure out a way to get Gojo free from the prison realm and maybe even honor your bet with Nanami regardless of who won.

The relief you feel when you see Kurusu Hana unseal the prison realm is overwhelming.

When you get told by Shoko that she's giving Gojo a checkup, you act before you can stop yourself, bursting into the infirmary and throwing yourself into Gojo's arms. You let out a stuttered breath when he catches you effortlessly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as you hide your face in his neck, and when he laughs you can feel your throat tighten up as you try to hold back your tears.

"Missed me?" he asks, cocky tone still present in his voice. His actions present a stark difference to his tone, and you can't help but think to yourself that he's holding you so tightly because he's scared of being separated from you once more.

So much, you think to yourself. But you're as stubborn ever and so you resolutely shake your head, drawing another laugh out from him as turns his face to press a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head.

"I did," he murmurs, voice soft as he pulls you even closer. "Miss you, that is."

There's a moment of silence as Shoko pulls Ijichi away, attempting to give the two of you some privacy as she gathers up the necessary tools. There's a mischievous glint in her eye when Gojo gives her an appreciative nod, but she refrains from teasing either one of you for the time being.

You make a move to pull away from the hug, a soft gasp leaving your lips when Gojo's arms tighten around you and pull you flush against him. You fight against his hold, pulling back just enough to see the pout on his lips. A breathy laugh escapes you, and your hands come up to cradle his face as you take the moment to process the fact that he's finally back. There's a softness in his blue eyes that makes you choke up once more, and you impulsively pull his face towards yours and press a kiss to his forehead.

He freezes beneath your touch, eyes fluttering closed as his breath hitches. His arms loosen in shock and you take the opportunity to slip out of his hold, cheeks burning when you turn and see Shoko and Ijichi watching the two of you with matching smiles on their faces. Gojo's hand darts out to grab your wrist before you can get too far, and he gently pulls you to his side, resting his head on your shoulder as Shoko proceeds with her checkup.

The days leading up to December 24 are eerily calm, and you make sure to take time for yourself in order to properly grieve Nanami and pray for Megumi and check up on Nobara's condition. Gojo joins you most of the time, silent but always within reach, with his hand holding yours or resting comfortably along your back.

"You know," you randomly say, walking alongside Gojo on your way to meet up with everyone else. There's a pit in your stomach as you glance at him, the knowledge of his upcoming fight weighing heavy on your mind. "I actually made a bet with Nanami before he..."

"I thought that was our thing," Gojo muses. His eyes linger on you before he turns back to face the road in front of you, tucking his hands into his pocket with an air of nonchalance.

"Nanami said something along those lines too," you say, laughing softly at the memory. "He still agreed to it, but he said that if he won I'd have to take you out on a date."

"Oh?"

Your words have piqued Gojo's interest, and he comes to a stop at the top of a staircase. You can see Yuuji's tuft of pink hair in the distance, and you drag your eyes back to your companion as you come to a stop as well.

"Too bad we never found out who won," you say flatly.

"Oh," Gojo repeats, his dull tone matching yours. You turn to face the staircase once more, trying to ignore the way Gojo's stare burns into you. You don't think you'll ever get used to those eyes of him.

"How about we make a bet?" you say lightly. There's a twinkle in your eye that sends a thrill down Gojo's spine, and he smiles before motioning for you to continue. "I bet that you can't beat Sukuna. If I win, you leave me alone for longer than a week, even though I know that'll be hard for you. If you win, I'll take you out on a date."

"Sounds like an easy win to me," he comments, laughing when you toss him a sly grin over your shoulder. "Betting against the strongest? I think you're guaranteed to lose."

"Perhaps, but I can't imagine I'll be all too upset about it," is all you say, shrugging your shoulders before descending down the stairs. Gojo smiles dazedly for a couple more seconds before following after you, effortlessly scooping your hand and entangling your fingers the same way he did when the two of you met Nobara for the first time.

The two of you are greeted with grins from all the students, the sight of your linked hands a welcome reprieve from everything bad that's happened so far. You hold on tight to Gojo until the very last minute, now all too aware of how awful it is to truly have him missing from your everyday life. You are unaware of what's to come.

You thought you were a pro when it came to grieving, but winning the last bet you ever made with Gojo has proved you wrong.

ty for reading. rbs appreciated <3

[diavolaangelica]

This is what happens when you elect corruption. You fell for his bullshit and now you are in the hot pot with the rest of us. If you think this targeting of all illegals for deportation is not going to have real economic consequences, think again. America's dirty little secret of their love affair for cheap non retaliatory labor that they don't have to pay properly or give benefits to is what is costing Americans jobs... not the illegal. It's greed. Do you know the other acronym for "FEMA" when disaster hits? "Find Every Mexican Available." Who do you think rebuilds this country when disaster hits? Who do you think has had a long history of sending their military here to help too? Any guesses? Mexico! If you want to start blaming the Mexicans for everything wrong in this country then you need to take a long look in the mirror and ask yourself if you aren't part of the problem too, because you blindly believe everything bad you've heard from those abhorrent politicians who have only one mission today... distract you from the ugly shit they are actually doing to this country. The opioid crisis didn't start in Mexico, it started right here in the united states with big pharma pushing their highly addictive drugs on people. Doctors were paid to prescribe Oxycontin, so they were handing it out like candy. People really need to start aiming their ire toward the greedy bastards that have no real interest in the American people or how we get by, because all they want is to line their pockets any way they can. I know many of you think you want all the illegals out, but I wonder, if you hate them so much, why do you love their food so much and why the fuck do you celebrate Cinco de Mayo? When I was in college, I was working in grocery store deli. It was a big chain back then. I don't remember who was in office at the time, but I remember local news casters warning people to stay away from places where large groups of people congregated like the mall, shopping areas, and farmers market, because immigration was out picking people up. I remember going to work one day and they had a big ass light navy green and white immigration bus that looked like a prison bus parked in the parking lot to try and snatch people up. The raids didn't last very long and in that month, the grocery store took a big hit due to lack of customers, overtime paid to people who came to work to fill the void for employees who were not coming to work out of fear they would be arrested even though they were legal, and loss of product that couldn't be sold before expiration. The shit Trump is doing right now has real economic consequences, you may ]not see it right now, but you will... we all will, and it's not going to be good. He's already started off on the wrong foot, and of course he is incapable of the slightest empathy for the victim's family members of the plane crash, instead he would like to blame Obama and Biden... someone needs to remind him the HE is the one at the helm it is his responsibility and his duty to take accountability. Or should we be asking the neo-nazi shadow president Elon Musk to take accountability? Other people are writing his executive orders and he's just signing them. He is absolutely clueless of half the shit he is agreeing to right now, because he doesn't read shit and he doesn't want to hear shit, he'd rather be golfing... but let's just keep pumping out those meme coin scams.. for those who have lost all on his coin keep this in mind, 80% of the money made off that coin went directly to him... that is almost unheard of in the crypto scam scene. Usually it's lower because it's spread out between many people... but I digress... tldr we are fucked!

The First Felon could never be hired. DEI standards laugh at reject hacks like Trump.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Comatose Confessions

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 4k words

warnings/tags: fluff

Part two to this

He’s barely moved a single inch in the last hour

Though he blinks every so often, his eyes never once stray from where he’s held his gaze so steadily this entire time, as focused as any trained sniper could ever hope to be

Sat on his bed, back against the wall and stiff as a statue, he watches as the faint light creeping in under the crack of his door shifts every so often, the shadows outside refusing to stand still

He knows it’s you

As perfectly silent as you are, he can still see the shadow of your boots pacing back and forth, back and forth, again and again, just outside his room

You know he’s inside

And he knows that’s why you refuse to leave, annoyingly stubborn in your pursuit, determined in your efforts to get the man inside to put an end to his charades

He knows you won’t leave until you get what you want

And what you want, is for Ghost to stop avoiding you

He’s been very carefully, very intentionally avoiding having to speak to you

He can’t bring himself to do it

He just can’t

Not since he’s woken up

Not since his head felt worse than it had in a very long time, mind swimming through a heavy fog in an attempt to fight his way back to consciousness, his entire being had felt shaken to its core and thrown off its axis, his blood running cold with the unmistakable chill of pure, unadulterated fear, not too far off to how he’d once felt waking up with the taste of dirt in his mouth, buried six feet under ground

Only to be jolted into a startlingly opposite reality when he suddenly was able to smell that achingly familiar, enrapturing fragrance he’d come to associate with a certain someone, could somehow feel miraculously soft, gentle fingertips smoothing along his neck into his goddamn hair, an affectionate touch he’d only felt fleetingly as a young boy, and when he’d opened his eyes, he was certain he’d somehow snuck his way past the gates and into heaven

Because above him had been you, and though the light glowing around you burned his tired eyes, you remained a vision so beautiful to behold he could never dream of shutting his eyes ever again, could not help but to instinctually reach out to grasp you, should you vanish before him and he lose the chance to ever hold you, at least once

His brain was still pounding, insistently throbbing as it shocked itself back awake, fighting to take control back as his lips suddenly said the only thing that both his mind and heart could agree upon at this moment, looking up at you:

“Love.”

It was nearly an entire day later, following a flurry of you being whisked out of his room, doctors and nurses fussing over him, his mind and body slowly beginning to feel more like his own again, when Soap came to visit him and all too happily recounted to his Lieutenant what he’d supposedly said upon waking up from his days long coma

After the doctors released him from the med bay or rather accepted that the Lieutenant was going to leave when he wanted to whether they liked it or not, they’d given strict instructions for at least a fortnights rest, wanting to allow his brain enough time to truly recover, concerned that though everything else was checking out fine, that short bout of confusion upon waking could not be looked over when it came to head injuries

Confusion

Is that what they all thought it had been?

He couldn’t exactly blame them, he felt he’d done a more than phenomenal job of hiding the true nature of his feelings for you from anyone and everyone, making it appear as though he was nothing more than indifferent to your existence, far from someone he’d be relieved to see waking up in a hospital bed

No, he’d been far from confused when he’d insisted to anyone who would listen, not caring that anyone’s ears but your own would hear his words spoken with the utmost sincerity, when he called you his girl, his love

No, if anything that was the most honest Ghost had been in a long time

At least since you’d worked your way into his life and apparently his heart along the way

But now, nearly two weeks passed since he’d woken up and admitted to you in his vulnerable state of mind his true feelings for you, after months of carefully avoiding ever letting you know how he felt, months of keeping his distance in hopes of diminishing the gravitation pull he felt whenever you were near, and he couldn’t bring himself to face you

He can’t decide whether it’s a small mercy or not that in the fog of waking up and all the chaos that ensued, that he can’t recall seeing your reaction to his words, can’t remember seeing the look on your face when he admitted the words he would have preferred to have been buried with than to profess out loud to you

A blessing, in that he doesn’t know whether your face twisted up into a look of horror or disgust at his revelation, and a curse, in that he’s had days upon days holed up in his room, imagining every other possible reaction you might have had

Since his release from the med bay, you’ve come knocking at his door, he knows you’ve been asking around base for him, have tried to run into him during those few fleeting moments he trudges to the mess hall and back

Why you’re so determined to confront him, he can’t be sure

To laugh at him? Rub it in his face?

He doesn’t think so, it’s not something he believes you’d so, but then again he’s never had his entire heart held in a pretty birds hands before, especially when he’d never intended to hand the bloodied, somehow still beating thing over in the first place

Maybe you feel sorry for him, hope to let him down easy, or even pretend as though you never heard him in the first place, he’s not sure which would hurt him most if he’s honest-

None of those excuses feel right however, with the way you’ve been seeking him out so persistently, opposite to the neutrality the two of you had less than half a month ago, and so always more at ease in the certainty of his own misery, rather than the misery of uncertainty, he remains hidden from you

Fuck, he hopes you haven’t been speaking to Johnny too much

When he notices your steady back and forth pacing suddenly come to a halt with the shadows indicating you’re stood directly in front of his door, the only movement Ghost allows is the slightest quirk of his scarred eyebrow, gaze intent on where he imagines your form stands just beyond the thick plank of wood separating you

He’s holding his breath, wondering what your next move will be in this childish game of cat and mouse he’s roped you into, when he hears the slightest shuffling from outside, a crinkling sound accompanied by shadows moving about under the door, followed by the sound of your boots echoing away from him and down the hall

It takes him nearly another ten minutes before he dares to move again, already beginning to berate himself for the way he’s behaving like a frightened child, when his eyes lock in on the anomaly on his floor

The sun was just beginning to set when he’d dared to venture out to the mess hall and back to his room quickly, hoping it was the best time to avoid most everyone including you before they ran out of decently edible grub, only just slipping into his room and shutting the door behind him when he’d glanced down the hall and locked eyes with you turning the corner

Now more than an hour passed, the sun long gone and his food cold and untouched, he notices something that wasn’t there before

Slowly, Ghost approaches his door, bending down to a crouch to examine what’s been slipped so carefully underneath the thin seam of his door

A single cigarette

He huffs a silent approving hum, bringing the death stick up to his mask covered nose to smell the bad habit he hasn’t touched in a few days

In all his efforts to avoid running into you, he’d quickly gone through the packs he kept in his room, only daring to smoke them out of his own ajar window like a goddamn teenager hiding the smoke from their parents

He’d smoked his last one a handful of days ago, and had yet to pick up a new pack, his years long addiction to nicotine apparently coming second to his need to continue avoiding you, no matter the cravings he felt

Now however, holding the smoke between his calloused fingers, he finds himself too relieved to begin the logical train of thought that should accompany such a gift from you being slid under his door

Fetching his lighter out of his desk drawer, Ghost steps towards his window and cracks it ajar enough that he can lean his upper half out, prepared to enjoy his cig in peace

What he isn’t prepared for however, as he inches his balaclava up above his crooked nose and begins trying to spark the lighter to life, is for the flames to be reflected back at him through your very own eyes staring up at him, stood directly below his window

“Hi Ghost.” You whisper up to him with amusement, the faint quiver of your lip giving away the mischievous smirk threatening to push through the darkness of the late night hour

You’re quicker than he expects you to be, almost as though you anticipated what his next move would be, when you reach out to squeeze your hand between the window and the pane, just as Ghost hurries to shut it

“What the fuck do ye think you’re doin’?” The Lieutenant growls out, hoping to stall for time as he recomposes himself, internally shaking his head at himself for falling for your trick. Leaving him a damn cigarette like a taunt and waiting beneath his window for him to smoke it was purely childish on your part, but then again, he hasn’t exactly been the most level headed soldier on base recently either he supposes

“Apparently what I have to do to get you to acknowledge me.” You reply casually, refusing to budge your hand away from where it prevents the window from shutting you out. “How long are you planning on avoiding me? Hm?”

“You’re bloody mental if ye think tha’ I-” He cuts himself off with the sharp glance you throw his way, a look that easily reads ‘are you fucking kidding me’ even in the low light illuminated across your features. “Alrigh’, fine. You’ve got me. Your grand plan was to hide ou’ here, like some bloody lunatic, wait for me… and then what? You plannin’ on climbin’ in through the fuckin’ window next?”

Fighting for the upper hand in this situation, Ghost watches as you take a deep breath, eyes quickly scanning the length between the ground and the windowsill, where you’re struggling to keep your hold while stood on tip toes

“Well I was hoping you’d invite me in by now. But I’ll do what I have to.” You decide confidently, raising your chin up high as you hold his gaze, refusing to back down now that you’ve got him in front of you. You must see something in him that puts a slight dent in your resolve however, as he watches your eyes soften ever so slightly, and you begin to shift on your feet. “I just want to talk to you, Ghost. Can’t we at least just do that?”

He fights the urge to grind his teeth as he clenches his jaw, shifting his eyes away from you as he struggles to maintain his composure seeing you standing there bathed in moonlight, a look of genuine sincerity on your face as you plead with him to be reasonable

“Fucking fine. But you’re using the bloody door. Don’t need you causing a scene out ‘ere.” He relents, pulling his hand back from the window pane.

“You promise to let me in?” You ask, hesitating before you release your grip on the glass. He peers back down at you, taking his own steadying breath before he offers a curt but steady nod in your direction. “Good, because my next move was going to be to pull the fire alarm, and that would’ve just been so much more of a mess.”

With that little revelation, he watches your hand slip away from the glass as you tip toe along the edge of the barracks, finding your way back inside. He scoffs to himself as he shuts the windows firmly, shaking his head at your antics as he stares solemnly at the unlit cigarette still pinched between his fingers

What the fuck has he gotten himself into?

Your fist has barely finished its first knock on his door before he’s swinging it open, reaching a large hand out to grip you by the waist and pull you inside before he has the chance to change his mind about this whole thing. He peers his head quickly around the corridor to make sure no one caught sight of anything before shutting the door behind you both, sealing him in with the last person he thought he’d find himself with tonight

He releases his hold on you as quick as he can, taking a large step backwards to put space between you both, eyes raking in the sight of you pressed up against the back of his door, an image he’s pictured many times before in his head but never believed he’d truly ever lay his eyes upon

He watches your own gaze hesitantly sweep around the space quickly, taking in the sparseness of the room. What he wouldn’t do to be able to take a peek into your mind, especially right now

“How’s your head feel?” You ask quietly, eyes shifting back towards the masked man’s visage as he clenches and unclenches his fists at his side. The only answer you get from him is a grunt you’ve heard from him often enough to know translates to ‘fine’. “Soap was telling me that if the docs clear you this weekend you’ll be able to start easing back into work.”

Ghost simply watches as you watch him, slowly lifting one foot before another, cautiously making your way over to his small desk and easing yourself down into the chair, all the while keeping him in your sight, as though he were a wild animal you might spook with one wrong move

“I’m sure they’ll pass you, but between you and me,” you add, leaning back slightly in the chair as a shadow of a smile crinkles in the corner of your lips. “I’d help you forge the docs signature if we had to. I’ve had my fair share of Soap, I’m ready to pass custody back over to you.”

At this, Ghost can’t help the soft chuckle that slips out, watching as the hesitant smile on your face forms into a full fledge smirk at the sound of his approval. With the tension in the room slowly beginning to dissipate already, he dares to allow himself to take his own atop his bed, opposite to you. Still though, he can’t completely let go of the nerves running through him, knowing you’re likely moments away from confronting him.

“You wanted to talk, let’s talk.” His deep voice rings out in the small space, hoping to cut straight to the chase, get this over with

“Right,” he watches you fidget in your seat, eyes leaving his for a moment as you begin to fiddle with your jacket pockets. “Listen Ghost, I- I realize that I might have heard something you didn’t necessarily want me to know.”

‘Yeah, that’s putting it fucking lightly’ he thinks to himself, but allows you to go on with whatever speech you’ve obviously prepare, hoping you’ll at least be quick in your rejection of him, and that this can soon all be a thing of the past

“And I figured if we were going to talk, it would really only be fair to level the playing field, so to speak.” He watches with veiled curiosity as you fish something out of your jacket. In your hands you hold a small, but clearly well loved notebook

“How’s that?” He questions, nodding towards the item in your grasp

“I don’t think I have to swear you to secrecy here but, I used to write in journals a lot, when I was little. Don’t really keep up with it as much anymore, you know how busy we are.” You mention, pulling the strap down from across the front cover and opening the book, fingers sifting through the pages covered in handwritten words of ink and lead. “Every once in a while I’ll write something down, if it’s memorable. But mostly I jot down my uh, well my more embarrassing stories.”

“Why would ye do tha’?” Ghost questions, eyebrows furrowing as he tries not to decipher any of the words he sees on in your book, unsure where this is all going

“Honestly,” you say with a small, airy chuckle. The Lieutenant ignores the sudden feeling in his chest cavity as he comes to the conclusion he’s never seen you smile so often, at least not so up close and personal. “Reading them back makes me feel better. They make me laugh. Especially after a long day or hard missions. Nice to come back to and remind myself not everything in life has to be so… serious, I guess.”

You offer a casual shrug, still thumbing between pages as Ghost takes in your words.

“Anyways, I just thought that, maybe you’d want to hear something I would usually never tell anyone. Make us a little more even?”

He narrows his eyes at you slightly, understanding now what it is you’re trying to do.

He slipped up that day when he woke up from the coma, accidentally made himself vulnerable in front of you and said something he wish he hadn’t, something he’s embarrassed about

And so here you are now, offering to be vulnerable in front of him instead, to grant him access to some of your embarrassing moments and thoughts, level the playing field as you had put it

Yeah, he’ll bite

Again, he offers you no more than a subtle nod in your direction to communicate his agreement, but the way your eyes lights up at this response, you’d think he would’ve just agreed to make you Captain for a day

“Thought maybe we’d start easy. How about the time I accidentally spit my gum out on my CO’s boots? Or when I peed myself during basic-”

Ghost isn’t sure how you’ve done it, whether you knew this was how your cunning plan would work out all along, or if you’ve just gotten incredibly lucky tonight, but as one embarrassing story on your part turns into two, and then three, and suddenly hours have gone by, the stoic Lieutenant finds himself smiling with you, laughing with you, fuck he even starts offering up his own carefully curated stories when you pull an almost full carton of cigs out of your other pocket and toss them to him, the two of you sharing remarks over a shared smoke, hunched over the same window he nearly slammed in your face earlier

“Oh man,” you choke out in small fit of giggles, your hand holding your sides as you pass the cigarette back to him. “We oughta put all your dad jokes down on paper one day, you know why? Because they’re tear-able.”

He rolls his eyes as he takes a deep inhale off the cig, pretending the corners of his mouth haven’t been lifted nearly all night.

“Tha’ was awful.” He mutters, sparing you a side glance before he adds, “A real pun-ishable offence you jus’ committed there.” He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk anymore when your giggles grow louder at that.

“Alright, alright. I suppose my pun-ishment then,” you say between breaths, casting him a glance to see if he approves of yet another one of your corny puns tonight. “Would be to read these last few pages.”

He watches as your fingers dance across the handful of pages making up the end of the journal, yet to be read aloud tonight, your movements appearing hesitant for the first time this entire interaction.

Part of him feels the urge to tell you whatever it is, it’s not necessary, that you don’t have to read anymore about yourself that you don’t want to

Another part however, is far too curious, far too intrigued to know more about you, having learned more tonight from your own lips than he has in all the months he’s known you

“Actually, maybe I’ll just have you read it this time.” You say, reaching the journal out towards him, allowing him that one final glimpse into your personal thoughts. With a calloused palm, he takes the book from your hand, careful not to linger too long on the soft touch of your digits against his rougher ones. Glancing down at the words written haphazardly across the lined paper, he reads:

‘First week with the 141 went by in a blur, don’t think I’ve ever sweat so much on a base before, those men sure know how to train’

‘Captain is nicer than any other CO I’ve had before, and the Sergeants are funny, very welcoming’

‘The Lieutenant is… different’

‘Not bad different (though he might not say the same for me), just different. Hoping to learn more about him soon’

‘One month on the team has flown by, almost can’t remember life before the 141’

‘The lads are great, but the Lieutenant still doesn’t seem keen on me being here. Which is a shame, his teammates speak so highly of him, and his work speaks for itself. Just wish he’d speak to me sometimes’

‘Almost half a year already, if you can believe it’

‘These men feel like family, all apart from the one who still won’t acknowledge me’

‘The lads say not to worry about it, that Ghost will come around eventually… I just hope they’re right. There’s something about him I can’t shake. I find myself thinking about him more than I should’

‘Mission went bad. Lieutenant got hurt and has yet to wake up from his coma’

‘For the lads sake, I hope he wakes up soon’

‘Ghost opened his eyes yesterday…’

‘I don’t know if he meant what he said, or if he even remembers it, but I know I’ll never be able to forget it’

‘This entire time I’ve just wanted him and I to be cordial, to work together, hell maybe even become friends… but ever since he’s said those words… I can’t shake the feeling … maybe friends isn’t quite the right word for us’

Ghost isn’t sure how many times his eyes scan that last entry over and over and over, willing his eyes to believe what he’s seeing right in front of him, not until your hand slowly slips over his own, still holding the journal open, does his gaze flicker up to meet your own vulnerable stare

“I’ll be honest I’m not sure how to- do this.” You say with a slightly awkward chuckle, the vulnerability of the situation clearly starting to get to you as your Lieutenant stares you down wordlessly. “But I wanted to be honest with you. Couldn’t have you wallowing away in here any longer without knowing - well I guess without knowing how I felt too. I don’t know you as well as I’d like to Ghost, we haven’t exactly given each other many chances to do so. But I’d really like to be your… friend.”

His eyes narrow in on the sweet but anxious smile you try to put on through your nerves, your earlier confidence diminishing now that you’ve truly laid your cards out and made yourself as vulnerable as you can before the man who still has yet to say anything.

Ghost takes a steadying breath, eyes never leaving yours as he tosses your journal onto his bed where it lands with a soft bounce.

Vulnerability like this, feelings like this… it’s a grey area Ghost usually tries to avoid at all costs, a field of land mines he’d rather not cross, knowing no one makes it out on the other side unscathed

But with everything you’ve done for him, everything you’ve revealed to him, in combination with the throbbing organ behind his ribs fighting to beat its way back to life since the moment he met you and decided he couldn’t fall for you, Ghost finally relents and says fuck it. You’ve shown more bravery tonight than he has in the last two weeks, avoiding you like you were the plague, and it’s about time he put on his big boy trousers and show some bravery of his own now

“Don’ know it the lads told ya, but I don’ really do friends.” He says, slowly lifting a single boot and cautiously stepping in your direction

“I- I’ve heard.” You mutter, trying not to show the defeat that threatens to come across your features at his words, fearing he’s about to let you down.

The large man takes another step, and another, until there’s suddenly less than an inch of space left between both your heaving chests, and you have to crane your neck upwards while his is tilted down to keep his eyes on yours. Your eyes widen as you watch one of Ghost’s large hands come up into view, sneaking towards the bottom of his balaclava, which has been rolled up with entire time as you both shared some smokes

His fingers pinch the fabric, pulling it up further above his mouth to rest on the crooked bridge of his nose, revealing more of his scarred lips to you just as they whisper:

“But you and I, my love, aren’t quite friends.”

With the way Ghost’s lips come crashing onto your own waiting mouth, you’re inclined to agree with him

Tag list:

@kat-herine00 @unclearblur @anastrashbin @sundaescreamcheese @milanriol @mismatchsposts @xye-weirdo @readingthingy @kitkatkristal1020

@purplegamer99 @idkwhatfor09 @alkalineapparition @lovelycurls @thecattyinthedark-blog @idkwhattodosooo @hao-ming-8 @wh0s-ra3 @cricricorner @tessakate @laduenadelswing @pinkpookiebear

[polarisjisung]

ꨄ A FLAME BLOOMS, LIKE A FEVER

02z WHEN YOURE SICK

pairings: enha (02z) × reader genre: fluff wc: 0.55k warnings: use of petnames notes: I accidentally bought kids panadol when I was sick and it was so fire I think it was called calpol but it was so good yo | LIBRARY

JAY — acts of service!!

Don't expect to move a finger, you're hungry? He'll cook. You need something from another room? He'll get it. You need to go downstairs? He'll carry you.

“Jay you can't do everything for me, honey.” You'd croak out, coughing. And Jay would already be standing with a glass of warm honey water for you to soothe the ache in your throat.

He takes your words as a challenge. He absolutely can do everything for you. Just you wait and see.

You're pulling your jumper over your arms, feeling too hot, and Jay runs, practically sprints to your side.

“Arms up love,” you don't have the energy to argue with him, and if you did, you're sure you'd lose anyways, letting him pull the material over your head in one swift motion.

You can expect that jumper to be freshly washed and neatly folded in your closet the next time you get up. Maybe even with a couple of sprays of his cologne to make it smell just like him.

JAKE — bribes you with kisses

Is a mother. He knows you're going to be sick even before you are. It's like an instinct. He'll warn you, telling you not to go out with wet hair or to take a jacket when you go out. You don't listen, of course, and Jake nags you endlessly.

Still, he takes care of you meticulously, spoon feeding you home cooked meals he's spent hours making.

“Jakey, I'm really not hungry.” You'd say, but he was having absolutely none of it.

“I know, baby, but you have to eat.” he'd coo before the idea comes to him, “One bite and i'l give you a kiss, hmm?”

Ever greedy for kisses, you'd agree, not realising Jake would probably end up the same as you a week later. He doesn't mind, though, just wanting you to get better.

Despite your hair being absolutely soaked with sweat, Jake still traces his fingertips across your head, massaging it. Only feeling relieved when you finally fall asleep.

SUNGHOON — medicines galore

At first, he tries to fix everything with wet paper towels and some panadol, but when that doesn't work, Sunghoon goes above and beyond.

“I got some headache medicines from the pharmacy, a few flavours of cough drops in case you don't like them all, I got these cute tissues, some herbal medicine and apparently chewing on ginger helps too.” He'd only have been gone for half an hour, not wanting to leave you alone for too long, and he'd come back with enough medicine to last you both a lifetime.

One you take the medicine, he watches you like a hawk, monitoring your condition, checking for any side effects. And if the medicine doesn't seem effective within a few hours, you practically have to beg Sunghoon not to buy more.

“Hoon, it's not going to work that quickly.” You have to tug him from walking away with all your strength.

“But you're sick.” He looks at you, frowning, with pouted lips and puppy eyes. You know just how much he hates seeing you in pain, with those low energy levels, and the missing spark in your eyes. It makes your heart swell.

“Hmm, they say the best medicine is—”

Sunghoon leaps out of your hold, ecstatic, “What, what is it?”

“Cuddles.”

taglist : @nanawrlds @flaminghotyourmom @mystverse @chenlezip @lotties-readings @jenobubbles

[aerichives]

fwb loser!minjeong

kim minjeong x reader

synopsis. minjeong was just your awkward, inexperienced best friend until one teasing dare led to late-night hookups, stolen touches, and a secret neither of you could ever admit.

genre. friends with benefits, smut

words. 837

note. guess what... ive been writing this on class bcs of an edit on tiktok. im so down bad for winter mmmhmmhmggf

loser!minjeong, the friend who always got teased for having zero game. the one who got flustered just making eye contact with a pretty girl, who would stammer through the simplest interactions while your friends cackled at her misery.

"you wouldn't even know what to do with a girl if she threw herself at you," ningning said once, snickering.

minjeong scowled, ears red, grumbling into her drink. "i— i could if i wanted to."

that only made them laugh harder.

and, honestly? you believed it too. she was cute, pretty eyes, a little awkward, with a charm that made people naturally like her. but inexperience clung to her like a neon sign. she was your friend, your loser of a best friend, and the thought of her doing anything remotely sexual was funny.

until the day you caught her staring.

you had been minding your own business, scrolling through your phone, when you felt it, her eyes, stuck on you like she was in a trance.

it took you a second to register. the way her gaze lingered a little too long on your chest, the slight part of her lips, like she didn’t even realize she was doing it.

"like what you see?" you teased, snapping her out of it.

minjeong immediately choked. "i— i wasn't—"

you smirked, sitting up straighter, pressing her further just for fun. "if you're that curious, you wanna see what's under?"

you expected her to panic, to shove you playfully and change the subject but she didn’t.

she just sat there. swallowing hard. hands gripping her hoodie strings. not saying no.

something shifted.

"you serious?" you asked, voice dipping lower.

minjeong still didn’t answer, but the way she wet her lips, the nervous flicker in her eyes, it was enough.

and, well… who were you to back down from a challenge?

the first time was messy. minjeong was hesitant, unsure, hands shaking as they trailed over your skin like she was terrified of doing something wrong. but when you pulled her closer, let out the softest sigh against her lips, something in her cracked.

she kissed you deeper, pushed you down against the bed, her inexperience melting into something more raw, more desperate.

and god, the way she touched you. eager, like she needed to learn every inch of you, like she wanted to prove something. she was shy at first, but the second she had you gasping, thighs trembling as her fingers curled just right, she was hooked.

"this good?" she had whispered, watching the way your lips parted, drinking in the way you clenched around her fingers.

"fuck, minjeong… yeah, don’t stop."

her eyes darkened. and she didn’t.

what started as a joke, a dare, turned into something else entirely.

minjeong, who used to be hopeless, was now pressing you into the sheets whenever she wanted, leaving your legs weak and your voice hoarse from moaning her name. she learned quickly. obsessed over it. loved the way you squirmed when she kissed lower, the way you gasped when she buried her face between your thighs.

and somehow, you both agreed. this was nothing serious. just fun. no strings, no complications.

but then came the moment that almost ruined everything.

it was a usual night out with your friends, drinks flowing, laughter bouncing around the table. the topic turned to dating, naturally, and the teasing started again.

"i still can't believe minjeong’s never been with anyone," karina said, shaking their head. "you’d probably freeze up the second a girl took off her shirt."

minjeong, who was mid-sip, nearly choked on her drink.

you didn’t even think. just glanced at her instinctively, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

and that was a mistake.

because they saw it. the look you two exchanged.

the entire table went silent for a split second, before erupting.

"oh my god."

"no way."

"you guys aren’t—?!"

minjeong went rigid, eyes wide, looking at you like a deer in headlights. you, on the other hand, just shrugged, playing it cool, suppressing a laugh at how red her face had gotten.

"as if," you lied smoothly, rolling your eyes. "she’d probably cry if she saw a pair of tits in real life."

minjeong snapped her head toward you, shooting you a betrayed look. but she was too flustered to argue.

your friends weren’t convinced. they whispered amongst themselves, squealing like they had just uncovered the world’s greatest mystery.

and you? you just smirked, brushing your leg against minjeong’s under the table.

she sucked in a sharp breath. you knew exactly what she was thinking.

because if only they knew.

if only they knew how many times minjeong had already had you breathless, begging, shaking beneath her. if only they knew how desperate she got when she touched you, how her name sounded when you whimpered it against her lips.

but they didn’t. and they never would.

so you just sipped your drink, pretending nothing was wrong.

minjeong, on the other hand, was completely losing it.

[musclesandhammering]

Oh I agree with this hard. But I feel like there’s a certain component to this whole fuckery that you touched on, that rarely gets talked about, which is: Dean and his stans are the problem.

It’s always kinda hard to find anti destiel folks who address this because antis are generally wincest shippers or brotherly salmondean fans, meaning Dean is one of their favs too and they almost always see cas as the sole problem. But if you look around at the most deranged and vehement and out of touch destiel meta, it’s almost always by deangirls.

And it always goes the same: Dean is their misunderstood mistreated eldest-daughter-coded bisexual little softhearted nerd bottom who wants to suck the dick of every male character he meets and is so distraught every time ‘his angel’ is gone that he goes into an inconsolable depression. And Sam only exists to be he and Cas’s relationship therapist. Seriously. Like.. they genuinely believe that.

Nevermind the fact that, in the actual show, dean has repeatedly chosen Sam over everything- including cas- to an unhealthy degree. He’s not female coded in any way whatsoever (that would be Sam), he’s not queer coded at all (the would also be Sam), and in fact he’s generally framed as the foil to Sam’s feminine coding- the domineering, closed minded, abrasive asshole who mirrors their shitty dad far more than anything else. He also doesn’t really give a shit about cas. Like the times cas has been killed, Sam has been more upset about it than dean, and the times where cas exited due to some morally tricky situation going on between them, dean instantly detaches from him with little to no difficulty. Even when they’re together, he doesn’t seem fond of him, ever. He’s mildly annoyed at best and outright hostile at worst. Sam is the one who finds cas amusing and is always patient and forgiving with him.

In fact, I could go on and on about how Dean has constantly treated both Sam and Cas like shit at pretty much every turn. But with Sam, it comes from a place of personal dysfunction and codependency issues- Dean doesn’t know how to express concern without anger, doesn’t know how to be protective without being controlling, doesn’t know how to guide Sam without also denouncing him, doesn’t know how to love a family member without projecting John’s “love” for him. Whereas with cas, Dean genuinely seems to just not trust or like him about 80% of the time.

But the problem is his fans can’t acknowledge that their fav is legitimately bad in those ways (because lord forbid you enjoy a problematic character), so they find excuses for some aspects of him (he just uses anger to hide how sensitive he is, it’s not his fault!!) and do mental gymnastics to twist other aspects into something completely different (he’s always annoyed at cas bc he’s frustrated about having to hide his feelings!!) and just outright brush other aspects off as ‘bad writing’ and ignore them (racist porn, jailbait kink, and misogyny anyone?). And what they’re left with- the absolute bare skin and bones of his character- is a guy who maybe kinda sorta could be attracted to his angel buddy 🤷‍♀️.

TLDR- Dean’s a pos and his fans can’t accept that, so they hallucinate him into a different character- one who doesn’t put his brother above everything to an unhealthy degree and is a little bit in love with cas.

in re: “cas knows dean better than sam”

“cas sees dean as a whole person and sam just sees dean’s façade as his big brother slash parent” but like how and where. outside of your fanfiction. season and episode. scene and line. if it’s so obvious and apparent you should have at least 3-5 concrete examples right? “sam doesn’t know dean carried him out of the burning house” yeah but did cas? outside of a footnote in the angelic manila folder they gave him between seasons 3 and 4 so he could better manipulate him and sam into doing heaven’s bidding? like if you’re going to say “cas knows dean better than sam” than you need to show how cas succeeds where you perceive sam to be failing at the very least. but even your perceptions of how sam doesn’t measure up are so warped, blinkered, and moronic that it wouldn’t even be worth much if you could provide the textual evidence, but at least you’d have a semblance of a point. like say anything without going “as an eldest daughter…” “well my relationship with my sibling isn’t…” please say anything without fucking projecting your own self-pitying crybaby bullshit onto your little woobie dean and using the actual canon text of the show. I’m literally begging you.

like the thing of it all is and always has been that you’re so hell-bent on twisting the sam and dean relationship to fit into this narrow and almost entirely inaccurate mold which is the basis upon which you build the entire Destiel Mythos that you literally lose all sense of media literacy. you don’t even miss the forest for the trees, you miss the trees for like, the pretend invisible things you’re seeing in between the trees, the forest is a whole long way away from your current level of perception. because the Destiel Mythos is based entirely on the fact that dean is Not Seen and Not Appreciated and Not Loved and Cannot Be Himself until cas comes along, and that Family (read: sam) Is Only A Burden on Him That He Must Be Freed From In Order to Flourish, so you keep trying to warp the sam relationship into something that is only one dimension of it – and keep ignoring the ways in which dean is seen, loved and understood within it, because you need to keep lying to yourselves that there is a narrative need to emancipate dean from something that he has never wanted emancipation from because it is ultimately a net good for dean in the particular circumstances of their lives. it’s also profoundly unhealthy, codependent, evil and toxic etc. (a lot more dean’s fault than sam’s but I will nawt be getting into all that right now) but that doesn’t change the fact that sam and dean both know and understand and feel deeply that they are each other’s person – that they know the best and love the most in the world. but that – which IS true canon fact – is incompatible with the Destiel Mythos so it must be ignored and all good sense must be thrown out the window in order to do it.

anyway i digress there are two main categories of Bad Thinking that i will be addressing below

childhood/ “parent/child” / blah blah blah

every single thing people are saying in favour of the deeply stupid thesis in the title of this post is proof positive of the very silly form of ‘analysis’ I just described. a few things:

“wah sam didn’t know that dean carried him out of the burning house :( this means that dean withholds things from sam to protect him because he is a PARENT and sam can only know things about him in the context of him being a PARENT to him” – what the fuck are you on about genuinely. first of all reducing the sam/dean relationship exclusively to parent/child is in itself foolishness for so many reasons that I don’t have time for right now. but also, it’s clear that this is just something that happened when sam was a baby that just never came up. in the scene (1.09) where this is brought up, dean is mildly surprised that he or john never mentioned that detail and then states that sam knows the rest of the story (i.e. the actual traumatic stuff) just as well as dean does – which is true, demonstrably whenever they talk about it.

obviously there are some things that happened to dean in their childhood that sam doesn’t know about (or didn’t know about, until told in whatever episode they come up in). equally, there are things dean doesn’t know about sam’s childhood, e.g. the fact that he was so lonely he needed a zanna (11.08). or how dean didn’t remember that sam was friends with barry cook until he mentions it when they go back to their old school (4.13). or about the nature of sam’s relationship with amy pond (7.03). these don’t mean that ‘sam withheld these things to protect dean out of parental love’ lol, it’s just that there are details and events in each of their lives that the other happens to not have been told about.

similarly “sam didn’t even know dean wanted to be a firefighter L” girl did dean know sam wanted to be a lawyer? in 1.01 he’s pretty surprised that sam has a law school interview. the point here isn’t “neither sam nor dean know each other well,” these are minutiae that aren’t relevant to how well you know someone as a whole, and very poorly demonstrate the bad and inaccurate point that dean withholds things from sam the way a parent does a child (on a constant or regular basis). obviously the way they were raised, sam was deemed too young to know about certain things until he got older and dean had to keep that secret, but as shown in 3.08 flashbacks, most if not all of this is eventually revealed throughout their childhood when sam is still fairly young.

or possibly the dumbest one is that “wah sam doesn’t even know that dean reads books L” whenever that was he was also obviously joking because in more serious moments (e.g. 8.14) he admits that dean is smart/a better researcher than he is, literally remembers dean reading to him as a kid (8.21) so like. clam down  

one of the extra annoying variants of this type of ‘proof’ covers things that are very clearly novel pieces of information about dean that dean, sam, and the audience are learning about dean in real time. like if you’re actually watching the show to comprehend it as it was intended to be comprehended, instead of funnelling everything through the Destiel Machine until it’s unrecognizable slop that fits neatly into your pre-ordained molds that Make Destiel Necessary In the Narrative (when it actually isn’t, at all) it’s abundantly clear. the top two worst offenders:

“sam didn’t even know that dean is good with kids :( he doesn’t even realize that dean raised him :(” first of all you people need to understand that parentification does not literally create a parent-child dynamic between siblings but I digress – this doesn’t make any sense bro. in 1.03 dean admits he doesn’t know any kids as an adult. dean being good with his own kid brother when they were both kids is to any reasonable person not necessarily linked with him being good with other random kids when he’s an adult. in 1.03 it’s clear that dean himself is a bit surprised that he’s able to connect w/ lucas so well because he’s clearly not dealt with a lot of kids since sam grew up. the whole point of this is that dean, sam, and the audience are all sort of seeing a new side of dean. who again is just 26. after this very early episode, there’s no question from sam that dean is able to connect w kids. sam being a bit surprised by this also has absolutely zero connection with him not understanding or realizing that dean looked out for him when they were both kids – sam is standing there at 22 years of age talking about adult dean and children – of fucking course he doesn’t mean himself are you stupid.

from the very first season, sam is very clearly aware of everything dean ~did for him~ when they were kids, see e.g. 1.21: “Dean...ah...I wanna thank you. […] For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And I don't know, I just wanted to let you know, just in case.”

and 1.06: DEAN: Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way. (SAM laughs.) SAM: Yeah, I know you are.

and then possibly even more stupidly, the one where it’s like “wah sam doesn’t even know dean can cook :( he doesn’t even know that DEAN was the one making him food as a babe in arms :(” – when sam is surprised that dean made something fairly gourmet and from scratch literally the first time they have ever had a permanent living space with a functional kitchen. in this VERY scene (8.14), dean himself points out that they haven’t had a kitchen before and when sam remarks on the irregularity of him doing serious cooking, he says “I’m nesting”, clearly showing that this is a novel development because they now have a kitchen, and that it’s irregular relative to past behaviour – both of them acknowledge this. because real proper in-depth cooking and making box mac and cheese for sam until he was like 11 and old enough to be left alone are two different things, which sam understands because he’s smart, unlike whoever chooses to make this point. dean never showed significant signs of liking to cook before this, which is what the exchange is about, but he did have to prepare food for them both when sam was too young – of course sam knows he had to, there are childhood memories referred to (e.g. 14.11) where sam is mentioned to literally help dean do the cooking as kids lol (and yes, genius, sam says ‘I didn’t know you knew what a kitchen was’ or something to that effect, but if you think he’s being 100% literal there I have an oceanfront property in Kansas to sell you)

again, obviously there are pieces that sam doesn’t know about dean, e.g. when he’s talking about his response to mary dying in 1.03. but again, Sam is 22, dean is 26, the last time they were in regular contact was when sam was 18-20, these are things that happen when people grow up, they’re able to reflect and share on childhood experiences if they’re close with their siblings as adults. it’s clearly not something that 26 y/o dean wanted to hide from 22 y/o sam. yes sam didn’t know everything about how dean felt when they were young, but that’s equally true in the other direction, and it’s such an irrelevant point in this discussion when, crucially, sam does learn these things about dean mostly fairly early on in the series (i.e. when they’re really not that deep into adulthood yet). cas was also not magically blessed w/ knowledge about dean, he also had to learn whatever it is that he knows, but somehow sam has to know everything about dean from age 7 or it doesn’t count when it’s sam lol.

“sam doesn’t know the One True Dean / doesn’t see through his facades”

the next branch of defending this flawed thesis is invariably that sam has little idea of the fronts and facades that dean puts up and is content to just believe them, whereas cas digs deep and sees the One True Dean that stupid sam always misses. there is nothing in the text that demonstrates this is true. multiple times, we see sam being very knowing of the fact that dean puts up fronts and facades. sam is also knowledgeable of the way dean perceives himself, and – demonstrated in multiple episodes before such sam lines were very poorly recycled and regurgitated into cas’s dialogue in 15.18, but keep acting like that was the first time anyone ever showed that they knew the One True Dean.

Obviously there are times where sam teases dean when he’s being more touchy-feely than usual, but 9.99 times out of 10 (as a conservative estimate in case there's something i'm forgetting otherwise i would say every time) that’s very clearly coming from a place of knowing the real dean vs. the façade he puts up because that’s the whole joke. and it’s allowed to be a joke because they’re siblings and that’s what siblings do lol. esp since sam and dean have touchy feely moments at the end of like every episode.

examples of all of the above off the top of my head (there are more than these, but these are the ones I can think of):

2.02 (about John’s death)

Sam: “I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap. […] I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

Dean: “You know what, back off, all right? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

Sam: “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”

2.03 (Sam to Dean, also about John’s death): “You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it. Because I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory.”

Note that Dean essentially admits that Sam is right in these two instances in 2.04 bc I know yall have stupid shit to say about john too that has nothing to do with how anyone actually felt about him in canon

3.07 (about Dean’s demon deal – also proven true in later episodes)

SAM: Dude, drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid.

DEAN: I'm not!

SAM: You're lying. And you may as well drop it 'cause I can see right through you.

DEAN: You got no idea what you're talking about.

SAM: Yeah, I do. You're scared, Dean. You're scared because your year is running out, and you're still going to Hell, and you're freaked.

DEAN: And how do you know that?

SAM: Because I know you! […] Yeah, I've been following you around my entire life! I mean, I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world. And this is exactly how you act when you're terrified. And, I mean, I can't blame you. It's just […] I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again. 'Cause... (can't find words; tears in his eyes) just 'cause.

5.18 [Sam figures out what Dean is doing re: his plan to let Michael possess him, tracks him down, and eventually is the catalyst for Dean ‘making the right call’, which he predicts] – e.g.:

SAM: No, you won’t. When push shoves, you’ll make the right call

DEAN: You know, if tables were turned…I’d let you rot in here. Hell, I have let you rot in here.

SAM: Yeah, well…I guess I’m not that smart.

DEAN: I—I don’t get it. Sam, why are you doing this?

SAM: Because… you’re still my big brother.

8.14 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18 + sam intrinsically understanding the trials are a death wish for dean): “I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it. […] I AM smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius – when it comes to lore, to – you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen – better than me, better than dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.”

10.22 (understanding how much dean has ~done for him~)

SAM: I'm saving my brother.

CASTIEL: You told Dean—

SAM: —I know what I told Dean. Cas, look. I've been the one out there, messed up and scared. And alone. And Dean—

CASTIEL: He did whatever he could to save you.

SAM: Yes. I mean, it's become his thing. I owe him this. I owe him everything.

10.23 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18, x2 – from Sam to Dean): “You were also willing to summon death to make sure you could never do any more harm. You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. That's not evil, Dean. That's not an evil man. That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way. […] You will never, ever hear me say that you -- the real you -- is anything but good.”

11.13 (Sam understanding exactly how Dean feels about Amara being his ‘deepest desire’, and confirming that it doesn’t make him a bad person)

Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I’m…

Sam: Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?

Dean: For starters, yeah.

Sam: Dean. Do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She’s the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you…I’m not.

Dean: You know that I want her ass dead.

Sam: Yes. Of course. And I know you’ve also probably beaten yourself up a hundred times over it, but where has that gotten us? (Long silence) Just how bad is it?

13.02 (Sam perfectly explaining Dean’s psyche to Jack)

JACK: Is that why Dean hates me?

SAM: Dean doesn’t hate you. It… Look, sometimes the wires in Dean’s head get crossed and—and he gets frustrated, and then he mixes frustration with anger, and—and fear.

JACK: Why would he be afraid?

SAM: Because Dean feels like it’s his job to protect everyone. And right now, we need to protect you. But we may also need to protect people from you.

14.03 [Sam assesses Dean’s psychological/emotional response to the Michael possession; end of episode, Dean confirms that Sam’s assessment was fully accurate]

14.10 [Sam is the only one able to snap Dean out of his weird Michael mind loop by using their code word]

14.11 [Sam figuring out that something is troubling Dean just based on the fact that Dean hugs him]

15.17 (self explanatory at this point)

DEAN: Chuck has to die. He has to! Otherwise he'll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can't live like that, man! I can't live like that! I won't!

SAM: I know you feel like that right now, okay. I know you do. But you gotta trust me. My entire life, you've protected me— from Dad, from Lucifer, from everything. I didn't always like it, you know, but... it's the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It's the only thing I've ever known that was true. So please... put the gun away. Just put it away, and we'll figure it out, Dean, we'll find another way, you and me. We always do.

like maybe there are some cas moments w dean along these lines too. i don't know, i don't remember what the guy says or does anymore it's been too many years and he is not memorable. but the point is where and in what capacity and based on what metric other than the amount of bad fanfic you've read does cas exceed sam in these respects.

so basically just. genuinely, what are you people literally ever talking about. go watch the show instead of saying stupid wrong stuff about sam on the hellsites all day. or watch another show (please for the love of god watch any other show this one is absolutely lost on you and it’s such a stupid one too i'm embarrassed for you)

[tricoloreddango]

dutiful boyfriend

Summary: Phainon wants to apply a lotion on your body; however, his intention are not so innocent.

Yandere Phainon x female reader

contents: nudity / dub-con|non-con touching (lotion application with groping) / obsession / smutty (nipple play) / female cycle mentions / patronizing behavior / forced relationship / mentions of suffocating (paranoid) /

Word count: 1.3k

Not suitable for minors.

No matter how much Phainon’s presence could have been suffocating for you, with him wanting to be in your space and have your attention 24/7, he has never relented.

That’s why you both just took a bath together. Another excuse to have you close to him, with his intention hidden under a false reasoning of couple activities and Amphoreus’s bathing culture. Anyone else who didn’t know the true nature of your relationship would think he’s just a clingy boyfriend, maybe like a puppy with separation anxiety; but you knew better.

He has held you tight to his chest the entire time of taking a bath together, sitting behind you. Washing you was included too, disguised as him wanting to take care of you and help you relax. Yet in never felt like anything else other than invasive and vulnerability-forcing.

However, your stressful situation of your peace and space being intruded wasn’t over just because you left the bathtub. Another part of him taking care of you was meant to be him applying a lotion for you too, right after he wiped you clean with a a towel to make it all invasive.

“Phainon… I can do it myself,” you said nervously when you saw him grab a bottle of lotion from the counter of the sink. He already did everything for you, making you feel so incompetent and out of control of your own life or even body. You didn’t know if you can handle more of his touch either.

“Nonsense!” he responded in a chirpy voice. “I just want to take care of you. You needn’t to lift even a finger,” he said with a smile and winked at you. Phainon stood right in front of you and pumped out few squirts of rose-scented lotion. Each pump made your heart pound like a thunder. He already was touchy on regular basis, but wanting to spread something all over your naked body felt even more unsafe and humiliating without a close barrier to protect you. Regardless, some part of you wanted to believe he was just being nice… even if it felt rather infantilizing and pushy to have everything done for you.

No, it was maddening when you were treated like someone who couldn’t take care of herself. The question was whether Phainon shared your sentiments.

“Okay…” you finally gave in. You knew he’d keep wearing you down if you say no anyway.

“Thank you, my love! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he said softly with another smile, although his eyes were a different story—watching you like a hawk, not hiding an unhealthy obsession with you.

Despite you agreeing, it didn’t make you feel any less anxious from anticipation of waiting for his hands to be put on you.

When Phainon finally did so, a hope filled you somewhat. He was just applying it on your shoulders and arms first, not in any suggestive way.

Only for your stomach to be churned when he got onto your chest after few more pumps of lotion to gather and spread.

He wasn’t just applying lotion. No, his hands lingered on your breasts for way too long. He was doing more than rubbing your breasts—his hands were squeezing them in circling motions, and you had to bite down on a moan, both sensitive and startled. “P-phainon, what are you doing?”

“Me?” he said innocently, “Didn’t you say your breasts are tender before period? I’m just helping you, I’ve heard a massage can help…”

“Yes, but…” you protested weakly, feeling as if he wasn’t entirely truthful.

“No buts, pretty girl,” he said with a reassurance and kissed your forehead to further convince you. “Now…” His fingers were now onto your nipples, rubbing their sides between his digits. You yelped, feeling a spark of both slight pain and involuntary arousal. He smiled a little.

“Phainon…” you said unsurely, “I am fine, really…”

You moaned when he gently pinched your buds that were growing sturdy. “Some pleasure should relieve your pain, I think.”

‘I think’—he wasn’t even sure if he had to do this, yet he gambled and put you through unnecessary humiliation.

Right when your body was getting more eager, he finally stopped. To your displeasure, for some reason you felt disappointed. “Do they feel better?” he asked hopefully. You nodded immediately in case he wanted to drag this out.

“Perfect. Just a few more places are left to moisturize…”

Few more pumps.

Next was stomach and back. He didn’t make it any weird thankfully, although with your legs he dragged his hands down and up them, making you extremely nerved when he was reaching more intimate areas.

You felt tears build up when his hands landed on your backside. Phainon even forced your body pressed tightly against his to get closer to that area, chest to chest and with his face buried in your neck. His lips were teasing your skin, as if you weren’t overwhelmed already. Your eyes didn’t need to witness his expression, as he knew you wouldn’t like the truth.

You felt his skin against yours, which only intensified the sense of being naked but in more symbolic sense than simply touch and nudity. “How can you be so beautiful, hm?” he teased, making you squirm as his voice vibrated against your neck. “You’re unreal, really…” he murmured contentedly, thinking about its just him in your life.

His words didn’t cause any sense of being flattered in you. You just wanted to leave this bathroom to signalize the end of this torment.

“I’m getting cold,” you tried to lie as you felt him massage and squeeze your flesh. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping you warm. You should feel warmer soon,” he said gently.

You did feel warm, albeit it felt like an unpleasant sweaty sensation than comforting one. When he looked up at you he wiped your few tears with a loving look that felt out of place for your distress. “Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize you’re that sensitive. It must be an overstimulation,” his tone was apologetic and worried, but the real reason of your tears remained unspoken; though you had to admit that even the scent of rose hanging in the air felt now too irritating to your nose. “I’ll make the rest of the process quick for your sake.” When you nodded and he gave you a quick kiss, making you experience a lot of relief that this torture was nearing the end, your joy was quickly diminished.

Few more pumps.

He was moisturizing your mound. Your eyes widened and you tried to close your legs in panic but he swiftly forced them open. “Don’t be ungrateful,” his voice was suddenly cold, making you freeze from the shock in sudden change in his mood. That kept you unmoving, scared you end up provoking him further even if you weren’t at fault here.

Fortunately for you his hand didn’t wander deeper between your thighs, leaving your most intimate place untouched… though you didn’t know if it’s a good thing—maybe it was merely a begging of some game, and he was taking you slowly part by part, hence he left the best for later.

“Good girl,” he praised at your compliance, and when he sounded soft again you had to do a double check to know whether you didn’t only imagine him being aggressive a second ago.

Last pump. Phainon’s left hand gathered your hair up to reveal your neck and not stain your hair with crème, and the other quickly spread the product around your throat. Despite him not hurting you, a sense of paranoia and claustrophobic pressure was there with his palm on this place—a worry about both being suffocated both literally and figuratively. You ever doubted he’d lay a hand on you; it was just a fear caused by having your entire existence have him all over your life everyday.

You exhaled deeply when he finally put the bottle away. “All smooth and soft, just like you should be. Not to mention how good you smell…”

You squirmed when his finger traced your arm down, wanting to experience how silky your skin was now…

You really had no idea how much he craved you just from simple gestures like this. Every part of you had a deeper meaning to Phainon, and you were desirable both physically and simply because it was you.

He smiled widely, all enthusiastic. “Now we can go to bed and rest. Don’t worry, I’ll help you put on your clothes too.”

I really can’t stop writing this type of Phainon…

[emsdevs]

Luke Hughes requests reader is doing the TikTok trend where she ask Luke and Jack questions about her to see who knows her better but pretends that Jack get all the answers right and Luke gets them wrong and his reaction Jack also knows what the reader is up to please

Know Me Better

a/n: i had way way wayyy too much fun with this one! nonnie you're a genius!! sorry for the wait but i hope it was worth it!! fair warning this is mostly dialogue!

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Luke Hughes Masterlist

It took you days to talk both boys into doing a TikTok with you. Jack was completely against it until you told him you planned to prank Luke, and then he was game. Luke was much easier to convince after you had Jack’s help.

About a week ago, you were doing your nightly TikTok scroll when you came across a video of a girl pranking her boyfriend. She had gotten him and his best friend to answer questions she was asking about herself. However, she was pretending that whatever the best friend said was right and her boyfriend was wrong. The best friend was obviously in on it, and it took the boyfriend way too long to catch on. As soon as the video ended, you knew you needed to try the video with Luke and Jack. 

Now, the two brothers sat at their kitchen table, you standing behind them with your list of questions at the ready. You prop your phone up and press record. 

“Okay, guys, so I have this list of questions about myself, and I’m gonna make my boyfriend and his brother,” you point at Luke and Jack respectively, “and by the end, we’ll see who knows me better. You guys ready?”

“So ready, babe.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” “Okay! First question is easy. What is my favorite color?”

“Oh! Easy it’s purple!” Luke is the first to answer.

“No bro it’s green,” Jack says smoothly.

“Jack got it right! Good job!”

“Babe, no. Your favorite color is purple. It’s always been purple,” Luke is confused, his brows furrowed.

“No, hun, I changed it a few weeks ago remember? We talked about it with Jack.”

“Whatever,” he gives up, not wanting to argue while doing something you were so excited for.

“Okay, next question! What is my favorite flower?” “Oh! Marigolds!” Jack jumps in first this time.

“Um, no. It’s lilies.”

“Actually, Lukey, Jack is right! How did you even know that?” “Heard you guys talking about it last week,” Jack shrugs, knowing that’s not what he heard you say your favorite flower was.

“You mean when I got her lilies, and she was so happy because lilies are her favorites? So she told me that lilies were her favorites ten times?” Luke was beginning to get frustrated, narrowing his eyes at his brother. He knows for a fact that lilies are your favorite flowers, so he doesn’t know where Jack is pulling his information from or why you’re agreeing with everything Jack says. Then again, what if Jack is right? Is Luke a bad boyfriend?

“Anyway! Next! What color were my nails two weeks ago?”

“Light blue!” Jack speaks up again. He had no idea what color your nails were. He was guessing random stuff at this point.

“They were dark red, kinda a maroon color, and your ring fingers had a tiny white heart on them,” Luke knows there’s no way he was getting this one wrong. He had gone to your nail appointment with you, content to sit and mess around on his phone while you got your nails done. 

“Wow, Luke, that’s impressive detail, but Jack was right.”

“What?” he was borderline shouting, not really angry, just offended. He knew he was right, but what if he wasn’t? Either way, how was Jack getting every question right? “Babe, I know for a fact that’s what you got. I bought them. At the salon. I was there. I paid. Right in front of you.”

“No, baby, that was the set before the blue ones,” you force yourself to ignore the pout that now sits on your boyfriend’s face, “Okay, next up! What’s my go-to karaoke song?”

“Oh! It’s ‘Black’ by Dierks Bentley!”

“No, dude. It’s ‘Dancing Queen’ from that one Meryl Streep movie,” Jack had seen you sing that song once at karaoke, and it was after you sang “Black.”

“Oh, my god! Jack got it right, again!”

“No, babe. We sing ‘Black’ together,” Luke was giving you puppy dog eyes now, and you’re not sure how long you can keep this up.

Jack steps in to save you from answering again, “Yeah, bro, but she said her go-to karaoke song. That one is for both of you.”

“Whatever. How many more questions are there?” His pout is intensifying, and you can tell if you keep this up much longer, he’ll walk out. You decide to make the next question a little more obvious, something only Luke would know.

“Okay, Lukey, you should get this one. What did I eat on our first date?”

“Chicken alfredo,” Luke answers without even having to think about it. He remembers every detail of that night. 

“Nah, she had a plate of shrimp.” You don’t eat shrimp. Jack knows this. Luke knows this. That’s when it all sets in for Luke.

“Are you two kidding me?” he shrieks standing up, giggles coming out of his open mouth. “You’ve been messing with me this whole time?”

“Yes, Lukey,” you’re cracking up. You can’t help it, “You got every question right.”

“I knew it! You two had me freaking out thinking I was a bad boyfriend or something!”

“Sorry, man. She put me up to it,” Jack could barely talk through his laughter, but he still managed to throw you under the bus.

“Jerk!” Jack continued laughing as he walked away. You stopped the video, laughter still taking over you and Luke, “I’m sorry. I saw a video like that and thought it would be funny,” you smile at your boyfriend sheepishly.

“Yeah, real funny,” he rolls his eyes before grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder.

You’re overcome with giggles yet again, “Where are you taking me?”

“To bed! We’re watching Secretariat, so you can make this up to me! And your hand better be in my hair the whole time!”

taglist: @heartsforjh @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels @juxmi @macklin-celebrini-71 @puckmedude @alexxavicry @dancerbailey3 @madebyhappymeals @beenucks @

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[revelboo]

Revel, this is very important (Atleast to us-). Me and my friend have both been reading Everything is Alright and we both agree on something, we were hoping that you could make Starscream a Girl dad, and make the first sparkling a girl. Only if you want to though and don't have any plans, we'd be alright if you don't do this too. We both really love and enjoy your writing, and check everyday for new updates from you. <3 Also, considering this is a request, If you don't mind and it isn't too pressuring, could we please have updates on the Brainstorm and Chromedome/Rewind fics?

Sure! I didn’t have a plan yet for Star’s kid so that works. I’ll try to update Chromedome/Rewind, Tailgate/Cyclonus, Sunder, Brainstorm, and Metroplex if I can today

Everything Is Alright Pt 123

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “If I was in charge, we’d have conquered this miserable mudball already and crushed the Autobots,” Starscream says, lip curling and you freeze. “The Constructicons already have a refinery going, mining is in full swing. But we’d be much further ahead if you hadn’t let those disgusting Insecticons just scurry away. I’ve said that those little savages need to outfitted with mode locks and tracking implants they can’t just remove themselves.” You’ve heard Star’s side of the war. That they were fighting for freedom and to overthrow a corrupt senate, but this is the first time he’s mentioned conquering your world and it leaves you cold inside. Because was that his intention all along? Whispering to you at night whole knowing he was going to destroy everything and not even caring?

• “What do you mean about conquering Earth?” You ask and Soundwave tenses as your emotions begin to build. Glares at Starscream to stop, but the Seeker is on a roll, secure in the knowledge that Megatron can’t hurt him too badly now. Not looking at you to realize you’re upset. ‘The only value in this world is the energon Shockwave seeded millennia ago,’ Starscream says. “The only value? This is my world. My home.” And you’re shrugging off Soundwave’s hand to face the Seeker, little hands balled into fists. Furious and he’s never seen you angry like this before. “What do you to do to worlds you’ve conquered?”

• Rant faltering at the edge in your voice, Starscream sees Megatron smirk and realizes he’s just made a mistake. Wings dropping, he turns back to you and forces a smile. “Nothing to worry yourself over, little one. Our home is Cybertron. Yours now, too.” And your eyes narrow, looking from him to the other two and back as your face reddens and your chin lifts. Why are you so upset? You’ll love Cybertron. You’ll be with him and your sparkling.

• “I asked what you do to the worlds you conquer,” you repeat. “What’s left after you’re done? Is anything left?” Hates that the upset edge in your voice bothers him and knows it’s the bond pulling him to you, urging him to soothe you, but Megatron has no intention of interfering. Enjoying watching the SIC struggling for words, wings flicking as he finally catches on that he’s screwed up. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say, tossing your hands up and striding away, though there’s nowhere you can really go trapped on the berth. Watches Soundwave drift after you, touching your arm and getting his hand slapped. And Starscream is glaring at him like this is all his fault.

• “Typically,” Megatron growls and you turn to glare at him, unsettled by his lazy smile. “Worlds our war spills onto don’t survive.” Breath catching, you wish he was mass displaced so you could slap him. Actually right now, you want to slap all three of them. There has to be a way to keep your idiots from razing your home to ash with their stupid war. They’re bigger and stronger than you, but they need you don’t they? You’d gotten the impression from Star that fully bonding takes ‘til death do us part to the most literal extent. Which means you’ve got leverage to get your way, even if it’s absolutely awful to even consider holding your life over their heads by threatening yourself just to try and get them to behave.. “Though, I might be convinced to spare this world. With the proper motivation.”

• And he can feel the shift in your emotions, the cold calculation. Doesn’t like it one bit, either. Scheming and manipulation isn’t your strength. Curling his arms around you and tugging you back into him when you try to shrug him off, Soundwave tries to pin down exactly what you’re thinking, but as always your mind is too chaotic for him. But he can’t help but be worried. He’d played kingmaker for Megatron, started playing the same game for you, positioning you so you’re safest, but if you’re also playing? It complicates things. Needs to fully bond you as soon as possible so he can better protect you, be able to get a better grasp on your thoughts. Except. There’s the problem of your lifespan. If it was only his life, he’d take it, claim you, but his cassettes need him. Depend on him. And so do you. For the first time he can remember, his path forward isn’t clear to him. What he wants and needs at odds with reason.

Previous

Next

[r0-boat]

Satan NSFW Alphabet

Well shit You guys really wanted it...

Here you go.

Cw: rough sex, hitting, spanking, mentions of bruises and bleeding.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Am I surprising you, but Satan is actually pretty good with aftercare? Satan will press his lips and look at any injuries he gave you. He'll hold you close and snuggle into your neck. You hear a soft rumble from his body, which he adamantly denies. He becomes incredibly protective and clingy for a while. Any King or not tries to rip you away from his arms we'll have a one-way trip to Lucifer's office. If you try to leave to go to the bathroom or get some water, he will always have his arms around you to the point where he's following you around like a clingy cat.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

As much as he hates to admit it, He agrees with Mammon's obsession with your ass. Tight, pert, and soft; enough flesh to sink his teeth into and leave red with his handprints. He likes the way he jiggles when he slaps it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Yes. In you, on you, breeding you, in your mouth as long as He gets to empty his balls with his favorite stress toy.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Every demon has at least one dirty secret. Satan is no exception. As much as he likes to take pride in being your protector. He can't ignore his sadistic desires. To really mark your skin red and purple. To see The fear and pain in your eyes as you try to squirm away from him.

How badly he wants to make you bleed and lick up your blood.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The way his hands clench when he thinks about slapping you across the face when you're sucking him off.

Satan had had lovers before and after he met Solomon. But once he had you, he kind of ghosted all of them. They're pissed, but honestly,, he could care less. You're all that matters to him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style, cowgirl, face sitting, Anything that frees his hands to do more.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No, Satan likes to lose himself during sex; if you break his concentration, he will get mad at you. If you have enough energy to school off with him while he's fucking you then he's not doing his job.

Satan shaves once every month or two and then lets everything grow out.

Personally, I feel like Satan should have more hair than he actually does (happy trail, facial hair, etc.), mainly because depressed people go through episodes where they just don't care about how groomed they are for days on end. He's not like Asmodeus, who purposely doesn't was; sometimes, he just can't bring himself to. If he isn't working, he's destroying his own stuff or killing angels for fun.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He only started to care about grooming when you started living in Gehenna. Depressed Satan starting to grow a beard and mustache because you spent two weeks too long in Hades. Only to shave it all off and be happy as a puppy when He hears you're coming back.

Satan has no idea what intimacy even is. He practically froze up when you cuddled up against his body. Even if you tell him what to do what you probably have to He will be extremely hesitant out of fear of screwing up somehow.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't jack off; I know it's surprising, but hear me out. He rather just have a body to fuck; He breaks all of his sex toys in minutes when he's using them and his hand just makes him even more pent up and pissed off.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Other than spanking, Satan has a massive sadism/masochism. Kink, You better hurt him like he hurts you. He doesn't want to have it any other way.

A huge brat tamer, if you try to tease him, he'll take that as an invitation, and trust me, you don't want to know what he's about to do to you.

Fucking loves Free Use

One time when you told him how big his cock was, he instantly came; he came so fast and so hard it bruised his ego, and he was staring at the ceiling thinking about what just happened.

New Kink unlocked🔓 Praise Kink

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere he damn pleases; He's the fucking king. In fact, he'd rather it be in public so he can give a message to other devils to fuck off.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anger, His anger feels him up so full that it goes straight to his dick.

Teasing, he'll take it as a challenge. Satan always takes the bait, hook, line, and sinker. He can't help himself. You send one obscure image of yourself; he doesn't care where he is, in the middle of a war or in a meeting. He will be there in 10 minutes, approaching your location rapidly.

Satan 🤝 Levi jealous sex

Unlike Levi, Who stews in jealousy before acting; Satan just immediately explodes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Get that softy fluffy sex shit out of here.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Sit on his face... Don't put 10% of your weight down; sit on it. SIT ON IT! MAKE SURE HE DOESN'T BREATHE!

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough till you can still feel him for days.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Anywhere; everywhere; anytime, if he sees that ass and he's horny it's free real estate.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Oh yeah, of course, he'll experiment. It's not that he takes risks; it's that he doesn't care for them.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As long as he damn pleases. Even if he is sore,, he'll keep going.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No fuck those pieces of plastic bullshits; if he catches you using one, he'll use it till it breaks and then say. "I'm not replacing shit. You should be using me; I'm your dildo!!"

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Satan doesn't tease, and Satan does not like teasing. Teasing him is considered a challenge. Satan rather just fuck you till you stop pissing him off. If you really want to tease him you have to tie him down and pray the bindings don't break.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He growls like a feral animal; if Asmodeus fucks you like an animal in heat, then Satan fucks you like an animal with rabies; Yes, he does bite.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As possessive as Satan is he actually doesn't mind sharing you with only a few people.

The kings if he's in a good mood;

Sitri; but he can't touch you; he must sit and watch.

Amy; Sitri must also be there for free entertainment; Satan will happily stir the pot and let Amy touch or fuck you just to watch the Sitri seething in jealousy and anger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Satan is a shower, not a grower; As pale as mayonnaise, when his cock is hard, his tip flares so red. It's kind of fun to watch.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His yearning for sex grows with the wrath inside him. You guys can do the math.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very rarely he will ever feel exhausted enough to fall asleep but usually you guys are doing it all the way till morning.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You mentioned how ace's dream was like a vague fanfiction addressing some fun fandom theories and ideas but I think whats the best part about it was how the progression up to that point made sense. Theyve dropped so many moments showing ace caring dearly for yuu to the point where this dream as fanservicey like that it was it feels natural for ace to have such a dream if that makes sense WAAGH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

What did you think of the dream though ms raven? The dream made me wail so badly ough hes finally cried too m sure hes been through a lot 🥹 seeing cater talk to ace so sincerly it hits me so hard in the feels im so glad hes finally got to cry (a little anyways)

Ace’s dream felt like fanfiction, but at least it felt natural or like everything up to this point was leading up to this being his wish. I unfortunately cannot say that for several other dreams. Certainly ones definitely felt egregious or contrived. Some were largely fanservice (Savanaclaw Rook, dorm leader Cater, delinquent Deuce) or just excuses to make new cards (merform twins), even if it didn’t make complete sense for the character to wish for it.

dgjswvizjsowk I know you’re probably expecting me to comment on Ace in his own darn dream, but I actually have a lot more to say about Cater. Ace’s motivations + butting heads with the rescue squad were what I expected them to be (though I give him props for being the only character so far to resist waking up right away). More on my precursory thoughts in this post (but based the exact wording of your ask. I’d be tired to guess you’ve already read it 😅)! But CATER????? TELL ME WHY HE WAS THE GOAT THIS UPDATE 😭

Cater does SO much???? First he suggests the third years help Trey cook BBQ so the darkness is distracted while the others can isolate Ace and try to wake him. When that attempt fails, Cater pretends to agree with Leona’s proposal to leave Ace behind to bait Deuce to come after him to play as his support. Cater sitting down to have a heart-to-heart convo with Ace??? And then mercilessly using his UM to gang up on Ace and beat him up??? 😭 Him reminding Ace about his courage facing off against OB Riddle… Cater confessing he wanted to run, but being encouraged to join the fight because aaaaah his kouhai looked so cool and dashing!! Thanking Ace??? Finally verbalizing some of his feelings???!?!?!?!???! CATER PULLING ACE OUT OF THE DARK????? MY GOD… OTL ThE biG BRoTHER EnERGGY WaS SO DTRONgGGGGGggGGGGG

And he kept this up even into Trey’s dream???????? Where Cater once again does a TON. He volunteers to investigate since makes the most sense (he is a Heartslabyul student so it’s not shady to be in the dorm and his UM is useful for combat). Cater also the third years with him into the kitchen to have a look around. Him saying he’s impressed with Silver’s will and how he would’ve given up so much sooner if he were him???? Dropping interesting lore about Trey??? Cater admitting that he has always been a spectator and now realizes he should have done more than just watch events unfold???

CATER CONSISTeNTLY puTTING hIMSELF AnD THE THirD YEARS IN hARm’s WAy FiRST… StRAtEGIzING… mAnIPULATING… AND ACTUAL SELF-REFLECTION AnD SINCERiTY????

Cater got to shine SO much this update, especially in Ace’s dream. He really came off like a big brother figure to Ace. A little mean, but also able to be so very vulnerable with him. Him not wanting to give up on Ace even though he later says if he were Silver, he’d have given up on everyone a while ago… MAN. CaTER cARES SO muCHHHHHhhh 😭 This might actually bump him up a little in my tier list… I didn’t like him much before 💦

[insidekatmind]

High p1- Pope Heyward

You had always been the quieter one in the group. You and Pope, two of the most withdrawn people. He had always kept his distance, and you, being the new person, didn’t know just how much you could really connect with everyone yet. You didn’t smoke or drink much—just a little here and there, but nothing too crazy. Pope was the same. You both had your own quiet worlds, separate from the noise of the party.

Kiara, the girl who seemed to light up the whole group, had always been the one Pope adored. You could tell, even if he never said it out loud. But something had shifted in him recently, something you couldn’t quite figure out. He didn’t look at her the same way anymore. It was like there was some invisible wall between them, and neither of them could break it down.

One evening, everyone gathered around the usual bonfire. It was dark, the flames crackling, and the air was filled with the familiar hum of laughter and conversation. But Pope wasn’t there. He hadn’t shown up. You were left to the sidelines, unsure if you should be a part of the chaos or just remain a quiet observer.

JJ, always the one to get people involved, noticed you sitting alone and, with a mischievous grin, offered you some weed. Normally, you would’ve turned him down, but that night was different. Maybe it was the loneliness, maybe it was the pressure of fitting in. You didn’t even think twice before you agreed. The moment it hit you, everything felt different. The laughter around you was louder, everything seemed funnier, and the world took on a hazy glow. You were completely high, acting silly and laughing at things that made no sense at all. You felt light, free, and for the first time, you weren’t holding back.

Then, like a ghost out of the past, Pope showed up late. He had his usual look of calm composure, his hoodie and jeans, like he didn’t care about the chaos around him. But when he saw you, something flickered in his eyes. His gaze shifted from the group to you, and the shock was visible on his face. You were completely out of it, giggling uncontrollably at something someone had said, completely unaware of how absurd you must have looked.

Pope didn’t say anything at first. He just walked over to you, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. You, still caught in the high, gave him a goofy grin.

“Didn’t think you were the type to join in on this kind of fun,” Pope said, his voice dry but not unkind. There was a hint of mockery in it, but it was warm, almost teasing, like he was trying to gauge if you were still the same person he thought he knew. “Didn’t expect you to be the party animal.”

You snickered, barely able to form a coherent sentence. "I… I didn’t expect it either… but… it’s not so bad," you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you laughed.

Pope chuckled softly, shaking his head, but there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes. Maybe it was amusement, or maybe a touch of sadness—something you couldn’t quite read.

You smiled amusedly as you twirled around while showing off your little white dress. Pope's eyes followed your every movement, watching as you twirled around in your little white dress. He had to admit, it looked great on you, and he was struck once again by how different you were when you were like this—giggly, carefree, so unlike your usual quiet, reserved self.Pope felt a pang in his heart, a sudden realization of just how much he loved your laugh, the way you seemed blissfully carefree. He found himself wondering just how often he *got* to see you like this.

You giggle, stopping by touching your head because it was spinning. "Pope, it's beautiful, it turns everything around" you say amused.

Pope watched as you stopped giggling for a moment, touched your head as if you were dizzy. Pope couldn't help but chuckles a little as he said, "Well, that's what weed does to you, it makes the world look a lot prettier."He took a step closer to you and leaned against a tree, his eyes still locked on you. "You're having a lot of fun, huh?" he asked, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You lean into him, laughing and resting your head on his chest. You were so short compared to him. Pope's eyes widened when you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest. The sudden closeness caught him off guard, but he found himself quite enjoying it. He wrapped an arm around your waist, his hand resting against the small of your back, just holding you there."You're awfully giggly tonight," he said, his voice a little lower, his tone a little softer. "Can you even walk straight?"

Smile amused. “No I don’t think so” you murmur into his chest. Pope chuckled, feeling your words against his chest. You were so honest, so open when you were high. It was almost endearing. He kept his arm firmly around you, supporting your weight as if you were going to fall over at any moment.“Well, that’s not good,” he teased. “How am I supposed to get you home in this state?”

You look at him with your cute little doe eyes. "I don't want to go home, I want to have fun" you say placing your hands on his shoulders. Pope looked down at you, his expression a mixture of amusement and affection. Your cute little doe eyes were looking up at him with a pleading expression, and he was struggling to resist the urge to give in to whatever you wanted."You’re going to regret this tomorrow, you know" he said, his voice a mix of warning and humor. "But fine, let’s have fun… within reason."

You smile sweetly and hug him. “Thank you, thank you,” you say enthusiastically. Pope let out a sigh, pretending to be exasperated, but in truth, he was finding it all quite endearing. You were all over the place, and he couldn’t help but enjoy every second of it.

“You’re welcome,” he said, returning your hug and giving you a small smile. “But no more weed for you, okay?”You giggle in amusement in his embrace. “We’ll see,” you hum and try to drag him to the lounge chair.

Pope couldn’t help but chuckle at your determination despite your current state. He let you drag him by the hand towards the lounge chair, his mind a mix of worry and amusement.“Hey, take it easy,” he cautioned, sitting down on the lounge chair and pulling you to sit on his lap.

You smile and lean into him putting your arms around his shoulders as you look up at the stars. Pope's heart skipped a beat as you leaned into him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. He could feel your warmth against his chest, and he instinctively placed an arm around your waist to stabilize you.

Pope followed your gaze upwards, looking at the stars that were twinkling in the night sky. He couldn't help but smile at your fascination, your face glowing under the starlight."You really like the stars, don't you?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur against your ear.

You turn and look at him and nod, smiling softly. "Yes". Pope was caught off guard by the sudden shift in your attention, your smile and the look in your eyes. In that moment, he forgot all the reasons he was trying to keep his distance, all the reasons he was trying not to get too close.

He found himself looking at you, his gaze roaming over your face as if he was seeing you for the first time. In the soft light of the stars, you looked softer, more vulnerable—yet undeniably lovely.“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You smile softly while blushing. "Thanks, you too" Pope's heart skipped a beat, his mind trying to process what had just happened. Did you just call him beautiful? He was caught off guard, a mixture of surprise and disbelief on his face.

He was used to being the one to express admiration, to give compliments, not receive them. But there was something about your sincerity, your gentle voice as you said the words, that made him feel fluttery, as if his heart was in his throat.“You really mean that?” Pope asked, his voice a little hoarse.

You nod, smiling softly and hugging him. Pope felt a warmth spread through him as you nodded and hugged him. He held you close, his arms wrapping around you in a protective yet tender embrace.“You really are something else,” he said, the words coming out a little gruff as he tried to keep his emotions in check. Pope could feel your heart beating against his chest, and he realized how much he liked having you like this, close, vulnerable, in his arms.

They sat like this for a moment, your head resting against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. The sounds of the party around them faded into background noise as they were lost in their own little world.Pope took a deep breath, the scent of your hair filling his nostrils, the feeling of your body against his strangely comfortable. He found himself looking down at you, his eyes tracing your features.“You know, I’ve never seen you like this before,” he said quietly, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You look up at him with those big doe eyes, your expression a mix of innocence and vulnerability. In that moment, you were the complete opposite of the quiet persona he knew. You were open, carefree, uninhibited—and it was utterly captivating.Pope found himself struggling to keep his thoughts straight. He had to remind himself that you were high, that you weren’t your usual self. But it was impossible to ignore the way his heart was pounding in his chest, the way his body ached to pull you closer.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, but the words that came out were a little huskier than intended.“You’re so…” he trailed off, struggling to find the right word to describe how you were making him feel in this moment. “Free.”

You smile softly at his words and look at his lips. Pope felt a tingle go through his body as he noticed your gaze drifting to his lips. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe, his heart rate increasing at the unspoken implication.He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to your face, his own gaze lingering on your lips. The idea of closing the gap between them suddenly seemed incredibly appealing, but he forced himself to resist. You were high, he reminded himself. He couldn’t take advantage of you in this state.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said quietly, his voice a little strangled.No matter how much he was struggling to keep his composure, there was no denying the desire that was building within him. The way you were looking at him, the way that your body was pressed against his, it was driving him wild.

"Why not?" You whisper softly. Pope felt his resolve crumbling, your soft whisper and the way you were looking at him stirring something within him that he couldn’t ignore. He wanted—no, needed—to touch you, to pull you even closer than you already were.

He swallowed, his throat becoming dry. “You know why,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You’re high. I can’t… I shouldn’t—”

You silence him by kissing him softly.

Continue…

[lilylushes]

Luigi x Pregnant Reader Headcanons

-Your sex life with Luigi had always been active, but once you two decided to see what happens in terms of getting pregnant, he got baby fever BAD and it turned into a whole baby making season for him. 

-You had sex almost every day before, but now it was constantly - on the countertop, in the shower, in the pool/ocean, etc. Even when you were tired, he’d happily make love to you with gentle strokes, humming how much he loved you and wanted a baby. He’d also lay on the praise even more during baby making season. “Mmm, going to give you a baby, beautiful.” “So good for me, taking all my cum, my good girl.” 

-He was SO excited when you both found out. The two of you both suspected you might be pregnant, so you took a test and decided to look at it at the same time. When you flipped it over and the two lines were clear as day, he was elated. He hugged you so tightly and even though he’s not an overly emotional guy, he cried tears of joy, and gave you so much praise. “You’re going to be the best mother.” “I love you.” “I can’t wait to do this with you.” Oh, and he’s thinking about how hot you’ll look pregnant.

-He immediately ordered a shit ton of books about pregnancy, fatherhood, babies, and everything.

-He thinks about different names all the time, too. He’d ask, “baby, what do you think of x as a name?”

-He goes to literally every appointment, ultrasound, and signs you up for a birthing class.

-NEEDS to find out the gender because he can’t not know. You’d do a little private thing, just the two of you. I picture one of those ones on the beach with a little cake and the wine glasses. No matter what you’d have, his reaction would be so precious. More hugs and tears, probably.

-He’s also kinda panicking because now he’s gonna be a literal father in charge of keeping another human alive. He is reading the books that he ordered religiously. He worries deep down that he’s not cut out to be a father.

-He proudly assembles all of the nursery furniture and makes sure it’s all safe.

-He takes up crocheting/knitting so that he can make socks, hats, a blanket, etc. for the baby. He goes kinda crazy with it, lol.

-He just wants to be a part of it all in any way that he can. He reads up on what you’re experiencing, is always asking how you’re feeling, wants to make sure you take all the vitamins you need, and takes part in your birthing class to ensure that he’ll be a supportive partner.

-He talks to your baby at night. “You have the best mom. She’s so pretty and so smart, you’ll see. You’re giving her kind of a hard time, though. It’s hard for her to sleep. Just keep still in there for a few hours, hm?”

-He is always encouraging you to try things out to make everything more comfortable for you, especially at the end.

-He talks about what the baby will look like and be like. You both agree on your eyes with his smile. You two take the opportunity to look at your own baby pictures. He’s a bit embarrassed at his, but he can’t get over how cute you were.

-Pregnancy sex, especially towards the end, is wild and constant. “I know you’re uncomfortable, baby. I read how we can induce labour, wanna give it a try?”

-He totally panics when you go into labour. He did pack your hospital bags long ago, but he gets all blushing and flustered.

-While you’re in labour, he gives you distance when you need it and is nearby when you need it.

-When your baby is born, he’d be crying so hard. Between your baby being here and how proud he is of you for going through labour, he’d be extremely emotional.

-He can’t believe how tiny the baby is, being totally in awe of their little hands and feet. He’s just in disbelief that you two made this sweet little baby.

-Afterwards, when you’re holding the baby, he says, “thank you for giving me him/her.”

-Even though he’s running on no sleep, he’d watch you sleep afterwards and come over to kiss your cheeks and forehead.

-He’s so proud to bring your visitors in. He’d by hyping you up to them, like, “she did such a good job, I’m so proud of her. She was so strong the whole time.”

-When you’re leaving the hospital, he’s beaming with pride to be able to look beside him and see you and your baby. 

-When you’re in the car, he’d look in the mirror at you and your baby in the backseat, and say, “There’s nobody else I’d rather do this with, y/n. love you, baby.”