#I’m not like…loopy or anything

[octoooo]

Lmao I have a habit of leaning too close to my paper when I draw traditionally

And when you’re working with a chisel tip (strong smelling) sharpie uhhhhdicnsks

[roguemonsterfucker]

I’ll never understand people’s compulsion to comment on other people’s appearances when it literally doesn’t affect them at all.

There was a video on Reddit of a woman complaining that a service worker was wearing pimple patches. She thought it was gross. “Just cover it with foundation” she says. “Wear the pimple patches at night when no one can see you” she says. As if makeup doesn’t often make acne worse. 🙄

It just fucking amazes me because like. Growing up I saw a lot of people I thought were gross for various reasons. But even as a kid I just shrugged and moved on with my life. I didn’t comment to the person. I didn’t even tell my friends or parents. I definitely didn’t tell the internet. Because someone else’s body is literally none of my business. So if I as a kid understood that concept, why is it so fucking difficult for these grown ass adults to wrap their heads around it?

Rhetorical question of course. It’s because they’re entitled assholes who think their personal comfort is the most important thing in the world. They are horrified that other people’s existence doesn’t cater to them. They can’t handle the idea that everyone doesn’t revolve around them.

Other people are allowed to exist. People are allowed to be “gross” in public. It doesn’t fucking matter. The world isn’t going to end if you see someone with acne. It’s literally fine.

[secretagentsagainstwhatever]

No but i’m actually obsessed with Sam Campbell

[charlotte-family-apologist]

Can someone please drop random mk shit in my ask box 😭🙏 I’ve been stressed lately and I want to yap

[that-one-girl2020]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 7

A/N: Thank you for 1,500 followers!

Okay, this is the last official part of this short series but I have more ideas for headcanons and one-shots for this series! Like, first kisses with the boys, maybe a smut, the Saja Boys and Mira and Zoey confronting Celine about how she raised the mc and Rumi, etc. So if you have ideas about headcanon or one-shot ideas tied to this series, you can send it to my inbox or add it in the comments!

I hope this is as satisfying as you guys hoped it would be!

TW: Grief, mourning, etc.

Edit (7/11/25): Please do not steal or plagiarize my work, I worked hard on this series and have a lot of pride in it.

Word Count: 3,718

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

Master List

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

Rumi sighed pleasantly, sinking deeper into the hot water as steam wafted around her. “Wow. This feels amazing.”

“We’ve been saying that for years,” Mira groaned contently, her eyes barely slipping open to look at her.

“Right? See what you’ve been missing?” Zoey mused, a loopy grin on her face.

“Oh yeah. I wanna come here every day of our three month hiatus…”

“Girls, I’m so glad you and (Y/n) didn’t, like, die…?” Zoey suddenly brought up, grimacing at her own words.

“Wow Zoey, way to be super literal,” Mira smirked, peaking her eyes open to look at their maknae lazily. “But same.”

Zoey started blubbering, sniffling and trying to stop but it was pointless, “I just… you guys just mean so much to me, and I don’t really know what I’d do without you…” Zoey descended into incomprehensible tearful babbling.

Zoey’s tears began Mira’s own crying and then Rumi followed right after them.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and shake your head from where you sat between your sister and Mira as the three blubbered.

How did you get to this point again…?

~~~

Rumi gripped your sword tighter in her hands, not minding if the blade cut her hand. She refused to let go of it as the three girls silently made their way back to the tower after leaving Namsan tower. They had reassured Bobby that everything was okay and that they would actually be taking that break now. But, they still had a lot to talk about—Rumi’s past, the Saja Boys, their fight… you.

There was a space besides them that felt achingly empty as they went up the elevator.

The three silently traipsed from the elevator, their steps heavy as they sat on the couch. They sat in mournful silence, gathered around the sword that had come from your soul.

Eventually, Mira set a hesitant hand on Rumi’s shoulder. “Rumi…” she sighed, her heart clenching at what she would have to say. “You have to let it go at some point.”

Rumi held your sword tighter in response, a drop of blood staining the rug beneath them. A tear fell from her eye. “No.”

“Rumi…” Zoey sighed softly, resting her hand on Rumi’s other shoulder, leaning her head on Rumi’s sadly.

“No,” Rumi shook her head adamantly. “I won’t let her go.”

“But, the sword isn’t her, Rumi,” Mira tried to tell her. Logically, she knew this. But a part of her didn’t want Rumi to let go of the sword either.

“I know,” Rumi choked out. “I know that, but… it’s the last part of her in this world. How can I let that go?”

Mira and Zoey were quiet, unable to say anything because there wasn’t anything to say in this situation. All they could do was offer comfort to each other as they mourned the loss of their sister, Rumi’s cries filling the silence.

Rumi knew she would have to let the sword go and once she did, it would dissipate into the rainbow Honmoon. She couldn’t think of sleeping or eating or doing anything if it meant there was a chance of her letting go of your sword.

But she had to let you rest.

“(Y/n)… I’m so sorry for the way I treated you,” Rumi told your sword, your soul humming through it. “I wasn’t a good sister for you and I wasn’t there when you needed me. I should’ve done better for you… Thank you for protecting me when I needed it most, and I hope you can forgive me someday… I love you…”

Zoey set her hand over Rumi’s on the blade of your sword, “(Y/n), I’m sorry for not hearing you out. You’ve always listened to me and the one time it counted, I didn’t return it… From now on, I’ll do better at listening. And I’ll write a super sweet song in your memory! Just… I hope you know that you were like a sister to me, (Y/n).” Zoey wiped her eyes, laughing wetly as she rested her head on Rumi’s shoulder.

Mira sighed, placing her hand over Zoey’s on your sword blade, “I’m… sorry (Y/n). I jumped ahead and called you a traitor without even hearing you out… I’ve never been great at expressing myself, but… you always just accepted me, even when I was being prickly. I’m sorry I didn’t return the favor. I hope you know that you’ll always be family to me.”

The three girls were silent. They knew the time had come to let you go but they held on just a little bit longer. Just a little bit more time with you…

“Goodbye… (Y/n)…” Rumi whispered tearfully. Slowly the girls let go of your sword. They watched as it floated from Rumi’s lap, the sword dissipating in a cruel reflection of the way you died, bit by bit fading out until it was a floating orb of light purple, pink and blue hues.

The girls were breath taken but their hearts were heavy as they watched. They had never seen something like this before. It was more beautiful than the Honmoon itself, watching your soul depart.

They blinked when the one orb suddenly split into several. Five orbs of different shades of light purple and pink and blue circled around a single orb in the middle, flying and swirling around it… happily. Then the orb in the middle seemed to shake itself, perking up as it joined the joyful dance around each other, dipping and spinning and chasing each other faster and faster until the girls had to close their eyes as the lights combined and got too bright.

“AH!”

The girls’ eyes popped open when they heard the sudden yelp and several thumps. Their eyes widened at the sight before them, latching onto each other in shock, “Ahhhh!”

“Ahhhh!”

“AhHHHH!”

“AhHHHH!”

“Why are we screaming!?”

“(Y/N)!” The girls scrambled off the couch in a rush of tangled limbs and tackled you. The breath was knocked out of your lungs and your back hurt from landing so harshly on the ground, not once but twice.

You honestly had no idea what happened. One moment you were singing with the Saja Boys and then Rumi arrived and reunited with Mira and Zoey. And Rumi was buckling under the force of Gwi Ma and then you were shielding her. After that, your memories were vague. You had some fuzzy memories of… being a sword…? Had you been dreaming?

“Wait, (Y/n)?!” You heard Kwan’s voice and then the bundle of four girls was being lifted so you could be squished by five more people.

You were confused for a moment as you were surrounded by eight sobbing young adults. But then you felt your heart warm and you smiled, tears trailing down your own face at the feeling of being so loved.

“We thought you were dead!”

“Never do that again!”

“You stupid idiot!”

“Don’t scare us like that…”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n)!”

Yeah… You wouldn’t trade the world for your eight blubbering babies.

“Sorry for worrying you guys…” You apologized, offering comfort in whatever way you could with your arms squished to your sides.

“Wait a minute,” Mira’s eyes were suddenly dry, snapping open to look slowly at the Saja Boys that were in their group hug. “What are you doing here?!”

The group hug suddenly dispersed, the Saja Boys on one side, Mira, Zoey, and Rumi on the other with you in the middle of the two groups, whipping your head back and forth between the two groups with wide, confused eyes.

‘Did they… not work together after you… died…?’

The Saja Boys awkwardly side-eyed each other.

“Didn’t you guys die or something?!” Zoey yelled.

Your head whipped around to look at the boys who sheepishly avoided your gaze, “Wait. You guys died?! How?!”

“Uhm,” Rumi started, “After you… died, they kinda just surrendered and started flaking away Thanos style.”

Your eyes widened at Rumi’s explanation. Then your head whipped back around to look at the guys who were slowly backing away. “You guys just gave up?!”

Jinu shrugged awkwardly, his shoulders going up to his ears as he avoided your eyes with a grimace, “Well… You died and…”

“We swore to follow wherever you wanted to go,” Hyeon explained more bluntly, the slightest bit of a whine in the tone of his voice. Not a childish whine, more like the whine of a scolded dog.

“So you decided to follow me into death?!” You couldn’t help but wave your arms incredulously. You sighed and facepalmed, closing your eyes in defeat. “We all need therapy. Like, now.”

“Might be hard with your current look,” Mira smirked, looking you up and down pointedly. “You look sick though.”

You blinked, looking down at yourself. Oh. You still had a lot of your demon features. Your skin color was back to normal, if a little more gray than before, and the patterns were a lot lighter. But your fingers were a normal length now, your claws weren’t as long now. But you could feel that your teeth were still sharper than a normal human’s and your eyes still glowed amber at you in your reflection in the window.

You looked back at the boys and their appearances had changed as well. Their reaper clothes were gone, back in their human clothes now. Their skin tones weren’t the dark lilac they had been before, more of a gray now as well. Their patterns weren’t purple anymore, they looked closer to black now, more like tattoos. Other than that, most of their other features were still the same.

“Oh,” You blinked. “I think I’ll be alright once my eyes chill, but the boys…” You trailed off. “Can you guys still use your demon powers?”

“Maybe. It feels a little limited though…” Kwan responded.

“We can try though,” Jum chimed in. One by one a ripple of demon energy pulsed over the boys, leaving them with normal skin tones and eyes, no claws and their teeth much less sharp.

You tilted your head at them though, “You guys kept your patterns?” You noted. The black markings were only a light purple now but still covered their arms and necks, their faces the only things they had cleared of patterns. (Like how Jinu looked when Gwi Ma summoned him after the bathhouse fight).

The boys simply smiled, “We couldn’t let you and your sister have all the fun,” Jinu smirked cheekily.

Your heart warmed and you blushed, wanting to coo over the sweet gesture. You stepped towards them, raising your hands to cradle Jum and Hyeon’s faces as the five boys gravitated towards you. “I love you boys. So much.”

The boys’ eyes teared up, their emotions crashing through them leaving them feeling too much all at once. You had died. And they thought you weren’t coming back. You are their hope, their guiding light. So they had followed you.

And now you were all here again, with them. And the Honmoon had been sealed. They hadn’t planned for that.

They were in the human world for good now. There would be no more second chances for them, this was officially it. So, for you, they would do their best to choose better. They had no doubts that you would accept them, flaws and all. But you deserved better than they were.

The six of you would need time. The things you all did, for each other and for themselves were things that they couldn’t just forget or accept as part of themselves just yet. Maybe that was why you all retained so many demonic features.

However, for now? They clutched you tight, wrapping you in their arms as they clutched at whatever part of you they could reach. They closed their eyes as tears dripped down cheeks, leaning their heads against yours as they felt your warmth, breathed in your scent, swallowed back their fading grief.

“Please don’t leave us again…”

The six of you stood together for a long moment, basking in each other’s presence to reassure each of you that you were all there and all alive.

Rumi stepped forward and the boys tensed around you, still weary of the Hunters. You moved to stand in front of them, a barrier between your sister and the boys. Rumi ignored them though, taking your hands in hers, “(Y/n), I’m so sorry for how I treated you. Nothing I say could ever make up for what I did, the lack of appreciation I’ve shown you in the past few years… But I hope you can forgive me someday and we can rebuild our relationship.”

Mira and Zoey joined, adding their hands on top of yours to make it a little huddle as they rested their free hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to what you had to say, (Y/n). You’ve always listened to me and I should’ve done the same,” Zoey added softly.

“And I’m sorry for calling you a traitor and… saying we’d kill you…” Mira added slowly, looking down in shame and guilt. “I should’ve heard you out and accepted you like you’ve always done for me…”

You smiled gently, cursing internally at your watering eyes. “Thanks girls…” Your smile fell into a small frown as you looked at your joined hands. “I don’t know if I can forgive you three yet, and I’ll definitely never forget, but I do love you guys and want to rebuild our relationships.”

The girls smiled sadly but they accepted your words easily. Whatever you needed. The four of you would have to talk more, there was still the conversation of how you and Rumi had kept your patterns hidden hanging over them. But that could be another time.

“So…” Jinu broke up the tender moment. “Can we stay the night?” He gestured to the other boys and himself.

The girls blanched. “Uhm. No.” Mira refused bluntly.

“Come on,” Kwan groaned, crossing his arms with a frown, “You’re not the only ones who lost (Y/n) when she…”

“Yeah,” Chungae swooped in, covering up how Kwan trailed off. “We were asking more out of courtesy than anything.”

Mira growled, the two fellow pinkettes grating on her nerves. But Zoey, ever the chipper girl, gasped excitedly as she had a realization, “We can have a sleepover! We can all sleep out here and order food and eat a bunch of junk food and get to know each other!”

And that was how you ended up at a sleepover with your five demon… boyfriends? Well, no one really wanted to leave your side that day.

Or any of the days that followed.

~~~

After that, the girls and the guys had gotten at least… a little more comfortable with each other.

It got better when the boys helped the four of you find the returning souls of the fans. They would just appear in different places around the city, lost and confused, having no memories of what had happened to them or how much time had passed.

During your sleepover, the nine of you had brainstormed and made a statement that you had a health scare which raised tension within Huntr/x, especially since you had wanted to debut as a solo performer, but the boys had supported you even through the health scare. This statement would explain to fans why the pallor of your skin had shifted just a little and also mention how you and Rumi had been born with birth defects that you both had tried hard to hide up till now.

The fans were supportive, glad that the group was taking a hiatus to rest and recover. A lot of fanart of you and Rumi with your patterns and supportive captions filled social media. The fans were especially giddy when the Saja Boys had explained when asked by a fan that they had gotten tattoos in support of their girlfriend, making it official. More fanart came after that.

After the girls and you had talked it out, it seemed like Rumi, Zoey, and Mira were much closer. It was only a matter of time in your opinion, until the three became Polytr/x. The boys agreed with you.

“Couch, couch, couch!” The four of you chanted as you left the bathhouse.

“(Y/n), are you sleeping at the tower tonight?” Rumi asked you.

“Mira’s cooking tonight!” Zoey cheered.

“I’m gonna burn your taste buds off,” Mira smirked proudly. There was a reason people called her the ‘Spice Queen.’ After what happened and you spending more time out of the tower, the girls had started trying their hands at cooking and taking up more chores.

You chuckled, “Sorry girls, I told the boys we could have a movie night. I’ve kinda gotten them hooked on Disney and Ghibli movies…”

Mira snickered, “Good. Don’t be too surprised if I pop in tonight. Gotta get my revenge on Chungae and Kwan,” she punched her hand, the fire of competitive determination flaring in her eyes.

Yeah… Chungae, Kwan, and Mira were having some kind of competition every other day it seemed. Lately, they had taken to surprise Nerf attacks, gaining and losing points based on successful hits assassin style. Last weekend, Jum had joined their spicy food contest and trumped all three of them smugly.

Zoey and Hyeon got along surprisingly well when her fangirling over him had died quickly. You would often see Zoey rambling excitedly as Hyeon nodded along, a small smile on his lips as the younger girl painted his nails.

And Jinu and Rumi acted like the siblings that neither ever wished for. After Jinu apologized and the two talked it out, the two went back to building their friendship. Jinu found amusement in poking at Rumi’s buttons, the two often bickering or debating over little things. But they also often had deep talks or talked about music ideas.

You didn’t wanna think about the shovel talk the girls gave to your boys… You weren’t supposed to overhear, but you were trying your hand at baking in the kitchen and the girls didn’t really know how to be very discreet…

“Oh!” Zoey gasped in remembrance, shaking your arm excitedly, “We gotta work on that collaboration song soon! I have so. Many. Ideas!”

Oh yeah. You had also decided to debut as a solo artist after the whole ‘Your Idol’ fiasco. Fans had accepted the ‘Your Idol’ x ‘What It Sounds Like’ concert as just another show, but had started flooding the internet with theories of who the female singer with the Saja Boys had been. Since you were under dim, red lighting and in demon form, no one had been able to recognize you—although there were some theories that it was you.

Even after those events, it wasn’t hard for you to realize that you wanted to keep performing—keep singing and dancing on stage. Both Huntr/x and the Saja Boys had offered for you to join their groups, almost fighting each other for the right to have you, but you ultimately decided to be a solo artist. You felt like if you had joined either of the groups, you would fall into old habits and become too passive. But you had accepted Bobby’s offer on being your manager since you two had worked together for so long.

Bobby still grumbled about how the Saja Boys didn��t have a manager or anything yet but was satisfied when they had signed under the company so they had access to the billions worth of resources.

You chuckled, nodding, “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of ideas to share too.” You kinda blinked when you realized Zoey was wearing an oversized yellow hoodie with Derpy the Tiger’s face on it. ‘Where had she gotten that…? Was Jinu making Derpy merch…?’

The four of you stopped when you noticed four girls in Huntr/x merch meeting up just up ahead. “Aw, look at them. They’re so cute.”

“You know, I feel like we got a nice little break,” Rumi mused with a smile.

“Yeah, I definitely feel recharged,” Mira agreed easily, crossing her arms.

“Me too. I thought I wanted couch, but I think couch can wait,” Zoey leant on Rumi’s arm. “(Y/n)?”

You smiled, “I got time ‘till the boys will start feeling withdrawal,” You shrugged.

Together, the four of you walked over, “Hi everyone!” Rumi called, the four of you waving at the shocked girls. You weren’t surprised when you kind of fell to the wayside of things as the girls started gushing over Rumi, Zoey, and Mira.

You were surprised when one of the girls turned to you, “And (Y/n) too! There’s rumors going around that you’re gonna debut as a solo artist soon! I just finished a drawing of you and the Saja Boys, would you please sign it?”

You blinked. You had never been asked to sign something unless it was paperwork. You were shaken from your thoughts by an arm resting on your shoulders. You looked up to see it was Kwan, “Wouldn’t you like to have the full set?”

“Guys? What’re you doing here?” You asked curiously with a fond smile.

Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, a nose pressed to the crook of your neck, “Missed you,” Hyeon murmured simply.

“I’ve only been gone a few hours,” You jokingly rolled your eyes. You rested your hands over his, leaning back against him affectionately.

“Even a few minutes away from you is too much, darling,” Chungae smirked at his smooth line while you shook your head at his antics.

“A few seconds is more like it,” Kwan pouted dramatically.

“You’ll let me choose the movie tonight, right, beautiful?” Jum tugged on your sleeve to get your attention.

“You and Chungae picked ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ last time, Jum, let someone else pick,” Jinu chided the maknae with a little smirk, smiling at you fondly. He turned to look at the girl who looked like she was about to erupt, shaking with excitement and a huge grin on her face, “Is it alright if we signed your drawing too?”

“Of course!”

Yeah, there were still things you needed to do. Therapy being one of them. But for now, you were safe, loved, and comfortable. You were happy.

A/N: Yeah, so the mc and the Saja Boys don’t kiss or anything here, that’ll be in the parts I write later because it just didn’t feel right…?

If you guys liked this series, go check out my role reversal version and all the little continuations on my Master List!

Go read the Celine Confrontation!

Outtakes:

*During Part 6*

The Saja Boys, Huntr/x, everyone: *Battle ready* “We are going to protect/save (Y/n)!

You: “I’m going to hold your hand when I tell you this…”

(This one was by @ph1lo-s0ph1a and I thought it was great!)

…

*Inside the Sword*

You: *Looking around at the rainbow glow, sparkles, and constellations floating around you* “…Am I high…?”

The Saja Boys: *Somewhere* “(Y/N)!? WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Mystery: *sobbing*

Abby: *trying to swat sparkles out of his face so he can find you*

Jinu: *Habitually trying to summon Derpy and Sussie to search for you*

Baby: *squinting from the too bright rainbow glows* “I can’t see her…”

Romance: *Using the stars to spell out your name to try and signal you, sobbing* “(Y/n)…”

…

*Back during Part 3*

The Saja Boys: *Trying to decide who gets to spend time with you in what order* “Okay… Rock Paper Scissors!” “Ah, NO!” “Betrayed!” “Damn.” “Hehehe!”

…

You: *Looking at Rumi, Mira, and Zoey seriously* “Look. Rumi is my twin sister. But you two are also sisters to me.”

Mira and Zoey: *touched and teary eyed* “Awww…”

You: “Therefore. If any of you hurts one another, I will, objectively, have to kill all of you in the most gruesome way I can manage—which is a lot because I have five demon boyfriends and my own demonic abilities now.”

Polytr/x: *grimacing* “Oh, yeesh…”

…

Romance: “(Y/n) will you be the Sophie to my Howl?”

You: “I don’t know, are you gonna get me a flying castle and a talking fire demon?”

Romance: *Getting Gwi Ma flashbacks* “Uhmmmm…”

…

Tag list: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374 @esposamultifandom

[drafts-and-delusions]

Reader under anesthesia around them 💌 Request

Tags: fem!reader, comedy, post-surgery nonsense

🎀 Masterlist  💄 Request Guidelines

Jinu

You’re still half-drugged when you point at him and gasp.

“Wait… you’re hot?”

Jinu blinks. “Excuse me?”

You squint, very seriously. “You’re my boyfriend?”

He nods slowly, unsure where this is going.

“Huh.” You stare at him like the math isn’t mathing. “I thought I liked sweet guys.”

“I am sweet,” he says gruffly.

You tilt your head, eyes glazed and voice full of suspicion. “You look like the type to kiss someone and steal their credit card.”

The nurse coughs into her sleeve, clearly holding back a laugh.

Jinu exhales hard. “You’re literally high.”

You nod, calm and sure. “High on regret.”

He rubs his temples, looking like he’s fighting every instinct not to walk out. Then he turns to the nurse.

“Can we put her back under? Just five more minutes.”

You grin. “You love me.”

He mutters, “Unfortunately,” but his hands are already adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. His touch lingers, quiet and careful. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t have to.

Romance

You’re loopy; eyes barely open, lips puffy from the anesthesia and moving with zero filter.

The first thing out of your mouth? “Are you famous? You’re so pretty. You should be a model. Wait, no. A K-pop star.”

Romance blinks at you like he’s been personally attacked by flattery. “You’re literally dating me.”

“Lucky me,” you whisper, then giggle.

He presses the nurse call button with all the urgency of someone ordering food at 3 a.m. “Nurse, how long does this stuff last? I need to record everything. This is gold.”

You keep going, barely registering his sarcasm.

Later, when you’re lucid, he sends you ten voice memos labeled “Babe being obsessed with me.” They’re all you. Saying the most unhinged, love-drunk things in the softest voice imaginable. He has them backed up on two different drives and one burner phone.

Abby

You wake up slowly, blinking past the blur and dryness in your eyes. Everything feels heavy, soft around the edges. But then you see him—Abby, standing by your bedside like he’s been there for hours. His hair is perfect. His face is perfect. His shoulders are basically illegal.

You squint. “…You’re my boyfriend?”

He nods, brushing your hair away from your forehead with a careful hand. “I’m here. You did great.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re hot.”

He freezes for a second. “Babe, I’ve always looked like this—”

“No, like—seriously? You’re my boyfriend? Did I pull? Is this a prank?”

You start giggling. It doesn’t stop. “Oh my god. You’re so handsome. And beefy. And gentle. I must’ve saved an orphanage in my past life or something.”

He tries to keep a straight face, but he’s already turning red, ears and all. The tips of his fingers twitch like he wants to hide behind something.

When you call him “my husband” and try to touch his chest “for proof,” the nurse has to step out to laugh.

Mystery

You blink up at him like you’ve just seen heaven.

“Are you a dream?” you ask, voice slurred from the meds. “Or did I actually bag the hottest man alive?”

Mystery stands at the edge of your bed, silent and stiff. He was hoping you’d sleep through the worst of it; maybe slip in, check your vitals, and leave before you stirred. But no. You’re wide awake, high as a kite, and staring at him like he’s glowing.

“Your hair is so shiny,” you sigh. “Can I touch it? Just one strand. Please. I won’t eat it.”

He finally speaks; his voice is low and quiet, like he’s worried it might shatter the moment.

“You’re ridiculous.”

You just smile, unfazed. It’s the kind of smile you usually give him when you know you’re pushing it, and you love that you’re getting away with it.

“You think I’m pretty when I’m ridiculous?”

“…Yeah.”

You gasp, scandalized. “You do love me.”

He crosses his arms and looks away; you catch the red creeping across his ears.

“You’re gonna forget this.”

You reach for his hand, clumsy and giggling. “Not if you kiss me.”

He exhales through his nose. Leans in. Presses a kiss to your temple and mutters, just barely above a whisper, “You’re worse when you’re sober.”

“Wait, say that again. I love your voice. It’s like villainy and chocolate.”

He doesn’t answer. Five minutes later, you’re making up a dramatic ballad about him and his bangs while swaying your legs under the blanket. He turns to leave. Before he goes, he pulls the blanket up to your chest and says, soft and brief, “Rest.”

He’ll deny smiling the entire walk back to the waiting room. But the nurse catches it.

Baby

When you wake up, everything feels like pudding. Your tongue is heavy. Your eyes sting. Your brain is buffering. But you know one thing for sure: there’s a menace in the room.

“Hey, Sleeping Ugly,” Baby says, kicking the wheel of your hospital bed like he’s bored. “Alive again. Yippee.”

You squint at him. “Whuh…?”

He drags the visitor’s chair closer with the loudest scrape imaginable.

You try to sit up. Your head wobbles.

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, catching your shoulder. “Relax. You just got your insides reorganized.”

You blink slowly. “You’re… cute.”

He stares at you. “Okay, first of all, no flirting until the drugs wear off. Second, I know.”

Your hand flops into his lap. You poke his thigh like it’s a doorbell. “Are you… real?”

He scoffs. “Unfortunately.”

You keep poking. “You’re warm. Soft. Like a—”

“If you say ‘teddy bear,’ I swear to all things unholy, I’ll unplug your IV.”

You giggle, loopy and unbothered. “You love me.”

He freezes. Blinks once. Then grabs your pudding cup and starts peeling the foil off.

“No, but really,” you say, eyes fluttering shut again, “You missed me.”

He feeds you a spoonful of pudding without looking you in the eye. “Shut up and chew.”

You smile, all drugged and smug. “You did miss me…”

He keeps feeding you in silence, face unreadable.

Then, just when you think he’s going to brush it off forever, he mutters under his breath—barely audible over the heart monitor:

“I almost threatened the surgeon. Happy now?”

Your heart rate spikes.

He frowns. “Okay, calm down. You’re gonna get me kicked out.

[nekonaps0]

After anesthesia

✦characters: Leona, Jamil, Jade, Malleus, Azul

✦gn!reader

✦post surgery / fluff / fun /

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was not a fan of hospitals. Too loud, and filled with people who never shut up. But when it came to you, he made an exception.

When the doctor came out and said you were in recovery, still a bit loopy from the anesthesia, he was allowed in to see you first.

He was expecting you to be groggy, sleepy… maybe even a little cranky.

He was not expecting you to look up at him, eyes wide as the moon, and gasp like you just saw Kalim bank account.

“…Whoa…” you whispered in awe, blinking up at him.

Leona raised an eyebrow. “What?”

You reached up, poking his cheek with a finger. “You’re so hot. Wait! Are you my boyfriend?” Your voice dropped into a stage whisper. “Holy crap. I scored a 10. A real one. Like, look at that jawline. And the ears. I love those stupid ears…”

Leona blinked, then smirked slowly. “Stupid ears, huh?”

“Oh my Seven, he talks!!” you mumbled dramatically. “And he sounds sexy! What the heck. Why would he date me? Is this a dream?”

He chuckled now, pulling a chair up beside the bed and resting his chin in his palm. “You done losing your mind over me, herbivore? Or should I flex for dramatic effect?”

Your eyes widened again. “Oh Seven, please do. I won’t remember this anyway, right? Gimme a peek…”

Leona snorted and leaned forward, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Nah. I’ll let you suffer later when you remember all the embarrassing stuff you said.”

“I bet even your muscles have abs,” you murmured, dead serious.

He gave you a lopsided grin, the rare kind that didn’t carry smugness just affection.

“You’re a mess,” he said, voice lower, softer. “But you’re my mess. And yeah. I’m your boyfriend, dumbass. Even after you wake up.”

You sighed dreamily. “Lucky me…”

Leona stayed there until you fell asleep again, stroking your hair gently and muttering to himself “…Yeah. Lucky me, too.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil wasn’t visibly panicked, but inside, his nerves were twisting.

He’d made sure every detail of your surgery was vetted, that the doctor the best, and that your bed had a warmed blanket ready. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, not on his watch.

So when they finally let him into the recovery, he walked in calmly, mask of control in place. You were still lying in the hospital bed, IV in your arm, looking dazed but awake. He approached silently, gently brushing the back of his fingers along your temple.

“Hey,” he murmured. “You awake?”

You blinked up at him. “...Jamil?”

A warm smile softened his usually composed face. “Yeah. I’m here.”

He gently tucked a blanket around you and sat beside your bed, petting your head with slow, soothing strokes.

“You were amazing,” he added, voice as smooth as silk. “You got through it, just like I knew you would.”

There was a pause. And then…

“…Why are you so nice to me?” you whimpered suddenly, your bottom lip wobbling. “You always take care of me and fix things and remember all the small stuff. And I’m just a mess. A disaster. I don’t even know where my socks go half the time…”

Jamil blinked. “Wait! wait, are you crying?”

Your face crumpled more, tears spilling freely as you sniffled. “You’re so perfect and calm and hot and smart, and then you’re here being all gentle and rubbing my head and…and… your hands are so warm and you smell good and I love you so much it makes me wanna explode!”

You hiccupped.

“Don’t explode,” Jamil said flatly, but his ears were so red.

You sniffled again and tried to wipe your tears, only to flail a little. Jamil immediately grabbed a tissue and dabbed your cheeks himself, completely composed, though his eyes had gone soft with something unbearably tender.

“You’re drugged up,” he murmured, his voice affectionate. “But I’m glad you said all that.”

You blinked at him, dazed. “Do you think I’m gonna remember this?”

“Oh,” he smirked, leaning closer, “I plan to remind you every time.”

“…You’re mean,” you pouted.

“Mm. Only when you’re cute about it.”

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, his heart just as soft as yours, even if he’d never admit it while you were awake.

Jade Leech

The sterile white lights of the recovery room buzzed softly as Jade stepped inside, he’d been waiting for hours. His expression was as serene as alway composed, but the second he saw you stirring in bed, a flicker of worry passed through his eyes.

You blinked hazily, groggy from the anesthesia, your face twisted in sleepy confusion. As Jade stepped closer, gently placing a hand on your shoulder, your brows furrowed.

“Mmnh…” you mumbled, trying to focus. Then you caught sight of him and immediately stiffened.

“H-Hey!” you cried, sluggishly trying to push his hand off you. “Don’t touch me!”

Jade froze, tilting his head ever so slightly. “My, what’s this reaction?”

“I have a boyfriend!” you slurred, brows scrunching adorably. “He’s tall and mysterious and handsome and… and…kinda creepy but in a hot way! He’ll feed you to the sharks if you mess with me!”

There was a long pause.

Jade blinked once. Then he smiled amused “My dear… I am your boyfriend.”

You stopped moving. “…Wha—?”

“It’s me,” he said gently, brushing your hair away from your face. “Jade. The boyfriend you just described rather accurately, I must say.”

You stared at him, eyes wide. A beat passed. Then another.

And then your jaw dropped.

“…Oh my Seven,” you whispered in awe, pupils dilating. “You’re hot.”

Jade let out a soft chuckle, eyes crinkling.

“You didn’t recognize me a moment ago,” he teased, amused at your starry eyed look. “Should I take offense?”

You reached out to touch his face clumsily, cupping his cheek with both hands. “Nooo… you’re just too pretty. Like an aquarium prince. You’re so… sharp…”

He laughed under his breath, letting you poke his cheeks and admire his jawline while your foggy brain caught up.

“I’m so lucky,” you mumbled, lips pouting.

“No,” Jade murmured with an affectionate smirk, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m the lucky one.”

Malleus Draconia

The soft rustle of Malleus’s clothes echoed as he stepped into the recovery room, his eyes scanning your unconscious form with quiet intensity. He had waited through the entire procedure, hands folded, patiently sitting with Sebek pacing beside him and Lilia humming something. Now, with the doctors gone and the room still, he finally approached your bedside.

You stirred slowly, blinking against the harsh ceiling lights. “Nnn…?” Your head lolled toward the tall shadow standing beside you.

Your eyes went wide. “…Whoa.”

Malleus tilted his head. “You’re awake,” he said gently. “How do you feel, my love?”

You squinted, struggling to focus but all you seen was… height.

“So… tall…” you whispered like it was the greatest discovery in the world.

He blinked. “I… suppose I am?”

You reached up to touch his sleeve clumsily, hands still weak. “You’re like… impossibly tall. Are you a tree?”

Malleus’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Not quite.”

“Wait, no…” You stared harder, eyes slowly lighting up. “You look like a prince. Like one from a book. Pointy ears, dark vibes, mysterious aura… sharp jawline...”

He chuckled softly. “That’s because I am a prince.”

You froze. “...Excuse me?”

“I am the crown prince of Briar Valley,” he said matter of factly, gently brushing hair away from your face. “And your very devoted partner.”

You gaped at him in silence. Then you whispered, almost breathless, “I bagged a prince?”

“Yes,” he answered, amused by your bewildered stare. “You did.”

A slow, victorious smile stretched across your face. “I bagged a prince.”

You looked up at him proudly, pointing at yourself. “Me. I did that. A real prince! Gosh… I’m so good.”

“I suppose you are,” he said warmly.

You reached out with both arms like you were going to hug him, but instead you just poked his chest with a single finger. “This is mine,” you declared proudly. “My royal tall emo dragon boyfriend.”

Malleus laughed, a rich, deep sound he rarely let others hear. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, eyes shining.

“I’m yours,” he said gently, “in title and heart.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had been sitting stiffly in the recovery room chair for the last two hours, legs crossed, hands clasped, he anxiously waited. Jade and Floyd had offered to sit with him, but Azul insisted he do this part alone. You were his partner. His responsibility. And deep down, though he would never admit it, his greatest fear was seeing you in pain and not knowing how to help.

So when he heard the nurse say you were waking up, he was on his feet instantly, straightening his clothes, adjusting his glasses.

He entered quietly.

You blinked against the light, still woozy. When your eyes landed on Azul.

Your eyebrows knit together. “…Wait… I know you…”

Azul stepped forward, concerned. “It’s alright, my pearl. You’re just groggy from the medication. I’m—”

“You’re… that hot dorm leader,” you said. “You run the lounge… with that two really scary looking guys…”

Azul paused. “Pardon?”

You squinted, then nodded slowly. “Yeah… yeah. You’re Azul Ashengrotto. Smart. Rich. Always wears nice clothes. Business shark. Also… super handsome. Too handsome. Suspiciously handsome...”

Azul blinked hard behind his glasses. “You… don’t recognize me?”

“I do!” you said quickly, pointing at him like it just clicked. “You’re the one who always makes shady contracts.’ I saw you in the school.”

He raised an elegant brow. “Yes… and I’m also your boyfriend.”

You stared at him, stunned silent. “...What?”

“We’ve been dating for a while now. You’re always with me in the vip room. You keep stealing my glasses for fun.” he added calmly, adjusting his glasses.

You looked completely frozen. Then… tears welled up in your eyes.

Azul panicked. “Wha!? My pearl?! What’s wrong?! Is it pain? Should I get a nurse—?”

“No!” you cried, sniffling as your lip wobbled. “It’s not that! It’s just…”

You pointed at him again. “You’re my boyfriend?! You?! The hot, successful, strategic Azul Ashengrotto?! You chose me?!”

Azul flushed redder than Riddle hair. “I… well… yes!”

You sobbed harder. “Oh Great Seven, I pulled a CEO?!”

He stepped closer, gently brushing your cheek. “You’re being ridiculous…”

“You’re rich and hot and evil coded and wear cufflinks! Cufflinks!” You hiccuped. “And I’m just a sleepy gremlin with a snack drawer in my nightstand!”

Azul’s lips twitched, equal parts overwhelmed and trying not to burst out laughing. He leaned down, kissing the corner of your wet cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered, fingers brushing your temple. “Even in this state.”

You sniffled and blinked up at him, face crumpling all over again. “Oh no… you’re nice, too?!”

He finally laughed and pulled you gently into his arms.

“I’ll remind you every day if I have to,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re mine. I chose you. And I’d do it a thousand times over.”

..............................................................................................................................

[dgknightblue]

Danny, full of truth serum and very loopy tired: This isn’t the first time I’ve been kidnapped! Not even counting last week because my parents sent me there fully trusting the guy since they’re friends, but I didn’t want to be there so I call it that… probably more unlawful imprisonment.

Danny: Anyways, I just don’t trust the guy since he’s a fruit-loop that wants me to be his son! So eating his food is a no go but he found the nutrient bars I had stashed a way so the only option left (I didn’t have cash) was to eat whatever the fruit-loops servants make.

Danny: Of course it was drugged, of course! And I wake up in the dungeon again.

Tim: Dungeon?

Danny: Yeah he’s a fruit-loop that likes to torment me.

Dick: Have you ever considered telling your parents?

Danny: No? Why would I do that, I can handled it by myself or have my friends help me. Though my sister knows and constantly calls even though she’s in college right now.

Danny: I mean, I don’t know what my sister did but when she talked to him one day, I stopped finding cameras in the house. Which was weird, but cool of her.

Danny: Also it would make my parents sad, so I really don’t want to tell them. They trust him a lot- I mean my mom is aware he is in love with her, but she doesn’t know he tries to …. Groom me. I know it sounds bad, but it’s not in a super icky way.

Danny: Like I said, he wants me to be his son because he likes my mom. And other reasons. That aren’t important!

Danny:….. he doesn’t act this way with my sister. He mostly focuses on me or tried to use her against me once.

Danny: He’s kind of a villain, you know? A fruit-loop. Anyways, back to me being in the dungeon. I actually met my cousin there!

Tim: Your cousin?

Danny: Yeah! She’s my clone. He cloned me. I love her. But she wasn’t supposed to be in America so I was surprised to see her.

Dick:…. What was she doing in the dungeon?

Danny: Apparently he wanted to try one last time to make a perfect clone son if I won’t be his son. I just… she was right there. Just because he wanted a son? Sure she wasn’t quite stable at the time, but she wanted him to love her. He could have been a dad, but he wasn’t.

Danny: I don’t get it. The ‘family’ he could have had was right there. He doesn’t deserve a great daughter like her. If he had been a kind person, he could have had the closeness he wanted.

Danny: Well if he didn’t blame his accident solely on my dad and for marrying mom. He’s just a fruit-loop.

Tim: How did you get out if your parents never found out?

Danny: My friends told my sister I was with him and apparently camped out in the woods in case he does something fruit loopy. The second I sent a message to them, she was busting down the doors. I was confused because she was supposed to be in college, but apparently she didn’t have any classes for her spring break.

Danny: We watched her beat the fudge out of him when she saw me be electrocuted.

Dick: You were being electrocuted!?

Danny: Yeah! He knows I’m susceptible to electrocution especially after my accident. Let me tell you, being zapped to the point of needing to go to the hospital is not fun. Or The bullying because now I’m not just the openly queer kid, I’m the disabled and ugly openly queer kid.

Danny: You can be gay if you’re quiet, but ancients forbid if you’re trans.

Tim: That’s awful, didn’t the teachers do anything?

Danny: Ha, fat chance! They watch it happen and then blame me. I got in so much trouble for what they do and do to me, they’re the jocks and A-listers of course they’re above the rules.

Danny: My friend Sam is rich, if she was shallow and flaunted it then she’d be an A-lister too, but she’s not like that, so she gets stuck at the bottom of the social ladder since she’s goth and friends with me.

Danny: If she was just goth, she’d be a little higher and be with the other goths. But no, she’s in the freaks category with me and our other friend.

Dick:… because they hang out with you.

Danny: Yep! Ah. Now that I’m thinking about it, my ex girl friend is the only one I ever dated besides Sam that was okay with me, I was just Danny.

Dick: You dated Sam?

Danny: We didn’t last, as much as she liked me and I liked her it just wasn’t working. We stayed friends.

Tim: Can we circle back to the whole ‘you got kidnapped before’ thing? I feel like we got off topic.

Danny: sure, wait why are we talking about that again? I feel like I got everything.

Tim: I’d like to know who the guy is so I can avoid him.

Danny: Vlad Masters, but he’s not the only one to kidnap me. There’s the GIW, who only managed to get me in their van, but I was with my sister and she beefed up over the summer because of anxiety over my safety.

I like the idea of Danny being protected helped his obsession because I think his obsession stemmed from the single thought of ‘Help me’ that was unanswered in his half-death. So he helps people because of the desire for help being answered, whether it was helping him or others- as long as the plea is answered. ‘To help’.

Something! Idk what the setting is for this, but they are all in one place and kidnapped. Not even in Gothem or by one of their rouges.

The dialogue can be changed around since I’m not hundred percent with it. But Danny can’t lie, he can control how he speaks and can avoid saying certain things but otherwise it has to be the truth.

He’s also very tired.

[dadsbongos]

sweetnerd

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy been waiting to post this one for ya (based on this post of his)

summary - daisuke -desperate for some release after months of passionless jerking- begs to eat you out one night.

1 k words / 18+! mdni

Recently, the lock on medical had been snapped off. Thankfully, you knew the culprit to be Swansea after a belligerent search for painkillers. And unfortunately, you were responsible for watching over the numerous drugs each night.

Well, you claim it’s a misfortune but really you placed the burden upon yourself. Anya insisted that she would sit with you -- seemed borderline inconsolable at the idea of you being there alone. Then she told you where she hid the ship’s gun.

You weren’t sure why a nurse and her assistant had access to the gun when even Captain Curly didn’t, but you also weren’t getting paid enough to ask. Besides, you’ve never had a reason to use it so why concern yourself?

As if sensing all such serenity, the Tulpar bangs outside. Then Daisuke is clambering inside, hands on the doorframe and cheeks flush. His knees are pressed together, his whole body bent like some cheap hanger. Hair tousled, strands upright in odd angles -almost electric in nature. If not for the utter strangling silence behind him and his heavy breathing, you might’ve thought the rest of the ship was on fire.

“Dai… suke..?” you sit up groggily, scrubbing exhaustion from your eye, “The hell’s wrong with you? Do you know what time it is?”

“Do you?” he shoots, abandoning the argument a second later in favor of quietly humming, “I wanted to ask you…”

“Yeah?”

“Uhm, ugh… It was easier in my head… earlier…” he mumbles, hand drifting down toward his pelvis. He scrunches the crotch of his sleep pants, a lofty sigh escaping at the squeeze, “Can you- I’m just, you get it? You’ve gotta,” he clenches his eyes, seemingly shaking away the humiliation that very instant and looking at you with the biggest, wettest plead you’ve ever seen, “Can you please sit on my face while I jerk off please? Please?”

The pinched look on your face does not scream disgust, which only relieves him slightly -- he hadn’t really considered what he’d do if you reported his question to Captain Curly. Head too hot with want to forethink something as trivial as a sexual harassment lawsuit.

“Why…?” you lean back, hesitant though not appalled.

“I need to get off, like crazy,” he stumbles forward, slow enough for you to roughly shove him back if you want to, “All I got is an old mag, and it’s junk!” you can hear the delirium thrumming through him the longer you keep him waiting, “You’re so hot, I just wanna eat you out… You don’t even have to do anything, just ride my face! I’ll be good, I promise. We can stop whenever, too, I don’t need to finish,” he swallows harshly before whispering something you’re not totally sure you were meant to hear, “Just the memory could make me cum anyway.”

“Uhm…”

“I’ll give you some of my sweetener stash!”

“I don’t want that, Daisuke…”

“Then forget you heard it!” his dark eyes scramble over your body, “What else can I give you?”

Your own gaze flips over his shoulder, out the still open medical door and down the hall. Empty. Quiet. You snag him by the loose collar of his spare Pony Express shirt, sunshine fabric pillowing between your finger, wrangling him into the bay.

“Just be quiet,” you hiss, “The lock’s busted.”

Daisuke’s rosy lips drawl upward, loose and loopy and disbelieving, “You’re serious?”

“Aren’t you?”

He nods hastily, jumping back onto one of the care beds before flattening across it -- pleading silently up at you with wet puppy eyes while scrubbing sweaty palms down his thighs. Crinkling the soft material until it’s ricketing down his knees; watching hawklike as you slowly strip. Then you crawl atop of him, he clutches you by the hips and blows out a wildly uneven breath.

Barely able to find the strength to blink -lest he be cursed to cut the sight of your bare skin from his eyes- Daisuke only just scrounges the wherewithal to assist you into kneeling over his scorched face.

Exhaling between your thighs, Daisuke winds one hand around your thigh -blunt nails digging into the fat- while wrapping his cock with the other.

Craning his neck, he approaches eating you out the exact way you assumed he would: eagerly and without forethought. Absent of technique, but so full of hunger; his tongue parting and swirling wherever he pleases in that moment. As rhythmless as he is, he’s overtly sloppy -- wet clicks livening the silent room.

Billows of loose breath echoing. You sigh as he whimpers into you. Your weight jostling over his face as he bucks wildly into his tight fist -the resulting gasp only makes him thrust up harder.

“Ah, Daisuke,” pure instinct encourages you to reach down and wrangle his hair, keeping him still for you to grind down and fuck his face. Swirling your hips for that wet friction and Daisuke puts up no fight: only moaning louder into you. Vibrations making you shudder and weep again, “Ah- Daisuke!”

He croons beneath the praise, thumbing the soaking head of his cock while tongue-fucking you open. Desperately stretching his neck to nuzzle deeper into you with his own mewls leakier than a broken faucet. The messy sound of his clenched fist rapidly working his cock grows louder -- you glance over your shoulder to find him shiny with precum. Hand a mere blur over his thick erection. Ruby head peeking at you with every thrust until pearly ropes are painting his knuckles -- some more ambitious shots flying onto your back.

You’d somewhat expected him to slide back like some content, melty goop.

Daisuke surprises you when he smears cum over you whole before using it as lube to slide in, nearing knuckle deep. He moans in time with you as if he can feel it -or maybe just because feeling you clench around him is that good.

“God,” he whimpers beneath you, fingers curling inside you, “I could die down here…”

It might’ve been alarming, if he hadn’t said it so dreamily.

Maybe you’ll let him go down on you more often, if he’s always going to be so eager.

[luveline]

hi ! i saw that you were open to writing steddie x reader ! thinking of maybe the anesthetic wearing off scenario (you have written many times haha) where loopy reader finds out she has not one but two boyfriends who are also boyfriends <3

There are two boys quarrelling at the end of your bed. The dark-haired ones cross-legged and sans shoes, picking through a big bag of chips you could smell before you opened your eyes. Spicy. Your dry mouth waters for one. The brown-haired one is helping himself despite his frowning, his quipping mouth sharp as a knife. “Fuck’s sake, babe, can you just– fucking– you never make anything easy.” 

“Don’t be so aggressive,” the dark-haired one says. The longer you look at him, the more you know him. That’s your Eddie, the sweet one who comes to work to see you. 

“Why have you smashed all the chips?” 

“They taste better in crumbs. Usually I’d eat them with a spoon, but there’s no spoons to be found in here. What am I supposed to do?” 

The brown-haired boy. It takes you longer to know him, though you can’t figure out where from. Steve. Steve snatches the bag of chips out of Eddie’s hands and tips it back. “Like this,” he says between chews. 

“Fucking class act, Harrington, you’re always so polite.” 

Steve gives the chips back. You blink to yourself, sure there’s a string of webbing caught in your eyelash trying to blind you. 

“Do you want a sandwich or something?” Steve asks. 

“It’s fine. We should wait for sleeping beauty to get up before we get food, or you’ll just have to go twice.” 

“You’re not hungry? I’m starving.” 

“How can you be hungry?” Eddie laughs brightly. “You just ate all my chips.” 

Steve pushes upward on one hand. He’s sitting turned to the back of the room, away from you, and when he leverages himself onto higher ground you can see the start of a tattoo under his shirt sleeve. “Shut up,” he says, clasping the back of Eddie’s head, leaning down. 

He’s gonna headbutt him, you think worriedly. “Excuse me?” 

They both whip their heads toward you. 

“Don’t fight,” you say hoarsely. 

“We’re not,” Steve says immediately. He quickly gathers himself and stands, dipping under your table for a bottle of water and cracking the seal. “Here, why don’t you have a sip of this? You’ve been sleeping for hours.” 

“Well, not sleeping,” Eddie says. 

“My throat feels funny.” 

“You were intubated, you remember? So you could breathe during the surgery.” Steve sits at your side and presses the bottle of water into one of your lax hands. “Go on, baby. Just a couple of sips.” 

“Uh…” 

“You don’t have to,” Eddie says, turning on the bed and pulling at your sheets in the process. 

“Eddie.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” 

“You’re Eddie.” 

He grins, “That’s me, sweet thing. You feeling okay?” 

“That’s me.” 

“Sweet thing?” he asks, funny half-smile on his lips as he mirrors Steve on your other side. 

Your face doesn’t feel your own as you smile at him. You must know them, Steve and Eddie, there’s a warmth to them where they’re smiling back at you, a deep lack of pain at their nearness. You settle contentedly into your bed. “Don’t fight,” you say again, just to check. 

“We aren’t,” Steve says quietly.

He forces you with gentle hands to take a drink. Eddie squints at you suspiciously, hint of that half smile still playing on his lips underlain with a softer reluctance, like he’s not sure why he’s smiling. You smile at him every time you look at him. You look like a strange clock, each tick an uptick of your lips, until he’s laughing and taking the bottom of your face into his hand, thumb flirting with the corner of your mouth. “You’re broken,” he declares. 

“I’m fine.” 

“The doctors took your brain.” 

You look to Steve. He shakes his head. 

“Here, sweetheart,” Eddie says, under his breath but audible anyhow as he pulls your face gently to his lip, “you’re alright.” 

Your brain fizzes as he presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“Better?” Eddie asks. 

“Some,” you confess. 

Steve meets your eye. “Some?” he asks, grinning strangely, all laughs and quickness as he pushes Eddie away by the shoulder and kisses you, right on the corner of your lips. “How’s that?” he asks proudly. 

“Um.” 

Eddie kisses your other cheek again. Steve kisses the skin under your ear. 

“You guys aren’t my friends, are you?” you ask. 

They both laugh, but it’s Steve who meets your eye with a glint in his own. “Nope, not your friends.” 

Your cheeks go hot as a furnace, heat from the depth of your chest you can’t beat. 

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!!! i absolutely love your writing and am evidently irrevocably in love with wolfstar. i just got my wisdom teeth taken out, and i know you already wrote something for poly!marauders with that, but could i request something for poly!wolfstar taking care of reader a few days after? so less loopy and more pain with lots of fluff and cuddles! feel free to ignore, love you darling!

Thanks for requesting lovely! Hope you feel better soon <3

cw: allusion to chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 627 words

“Hello,” Sirius says when the front door shushes open. He starts to fold over the page of his magazine. He hardly catches a bit of motion from the corner of his eye before you’re flopping down on top of him, forcing a soft oof from his sternum. “Oh, hello. Everything okay?”

You make a tortured groaning sound, forehead pushing into his neck.

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” Remus passes a loving hand over Sirius’ head in greeting, en route to the kitchen. “I’ll get your ice.”

“Aw,” Sirius tuts, letting his magazine lay tented over your back. He palms the back of your head gently. “Hard first day back at work?”

“It feels like it hurts worse,” you mumble into the space below his throat. The tip of your nose is cool where it presses to his skin. “I’m so tired.”

“Oh, I know, baby.” Sirius kisses the top of your head. “It’s not very fair, is it?”

“Pain is tiring,” Remus agrees. He passes Sirius an ice pack to settle against your cheek, holding onto another while he leans on the back of the couch. “It’ll get better over the next few days. Tomorrow should be easier.”

“I can’t think about tomorrow.” Your voice is softer, lips barely moving as Sirius holds the ice to your jaw. You shift your face from his neck, turning your eyes up to his. “Keep me here forever?”

Sirius feels his mouth spread in a grin. “You know I will, gorgeous. And I’ll do you one better, lift your head and I’ll put two ice packs on your cheeks.”

You pick your head up as directed. Remus passes Sirius the other ice pack, and he sandwiches your face between the two with a smile. Your poor cheeks are swollen and bruised, but Sirius thinks you look lovely despite it, even pouting the way you are. You look between your boyfriends as though waiting for them to do something about it.

Remus breaks first. “Oh, my love.” He gives a pitying laugh, folding over the back of the couch to hug your shoulders. “I’m sorry. The pain won’t last much longer, though. Just give yourself some time to heal.”

“Count yourself lucky you had wisdom to take,” Sirius says. “I didn’t have anything they wanted at all.”

“I’m so tired of this,” you sigh, leaning into Remus. “Sorry, I know it’s only been a couple of days, just. It’s just constant, you know?”

Remus hums. He knows better than most, better than Sirius for sure. Sirius feels overcome by a fond protectiveness for you both.

He touches a pinkie to Remus’ forearm where it’s wrapped around your clavicle. “Alright, that’s enough,” he says, rubbing. “It’s cruel and unjust to have either of you ever work again. I won’t entertain it.”

“Oh, you’re going to be our sole breadwinner now?” Remus asks, smiling.

“Quite right. I’ll need the two of you to carry your weight in homemaking, of course, but I’ll manage the rest.”

“And you reckon your income can cover our portions of the rent and groceries and all that?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, darling. It’s well in hand.”

“Let me lie about for the rest of the week,” you sigh. “Then I’ll go back to work and you can stay here, Rem.”

Remus turns his smile into the top of your head, nose denting into your hair. “Yeah? You sure?”

“M’sure.” You shut your eyes. Sirius grins at Remus, thinking that he has about thirty seconds to change positions before you fall asleep and he has to hold you this way all night. “Just need a few days.”

But Remus will indulge you in anything; he stays perfectly still. “Sure, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your head. “Whatever you need.”

[samsblades]

✶ in the morning — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, fluff, mentioned alcohol use (sam's drunk), unedited, 959 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a motel bathroom + “shhh!” “i’m trying to confess my love to you!”

sam’s tall, lanky body won’t cooperate with your gentle hands. you have to squeeze his elbows hard to keep him upright; he’s very drunk. his breath is sharp and unpleasant from all the alcohol, but his lips look soft. they feel soft when his face falls into the crook of your neck and all he does is nuzzle closer. when he mumbles something unintelligible, it feels like a kiss of sorts on your burning skin.

he’s only warmer than you are because he’s drunk. sam runs warm usually anyway, but his incessant closeness has your blood rushing under your skin and making it hot. 

his breath smells like something stronger than beer, which is unusual for him. maybe he felt adventurous tonight, or maybe something’s on his mind that he foolishly decided to address with whiskey.

this motel’s bathroom is tiny, even smaller than most, which is saying something. but sam has somehow gotten his hands sticky with god knows what and it’s really bothering him. it’s bothering you too, frankly, but you’ve said nothing but, “it’s okay. it’s okay, sam,” in a saccharine sweet voice when he apologizes for getting whatever it is on your clothes. as if they aren’t stained with blood half the time.

so now you’ve got him hunched over the bathroom sink, forced right up against his side in order to keep from stumbling into the shower. at least your presence keeps him steadier than he might be on his own.

“oh, my god,” he mumbles as you push his hands back under the water when he forgets to use soap. “i need you,” he says through a huff of breath and you nearly do fall into the shower. you hand him the little bar of soap because he’s just saying that he wouldn’t be able to get this done without you in his drunken state. his big hands fumble with it and he forgets to focus on that because he’s trying to look at you instead. the bar slips comically out of his hands and nearly onto the floor. it falls into the basin of the sink, though, and he can’t seem to grasp it with his clumsy fingers.

you pick it back up for him and he leans into you. the both of you would have tumbled over if you didn’t plant a firm hand on the small of his back and push him back to lean on the sink instead.

“you look very pretty,” he tells you, words quite slurred but unmistakable. you’re not sure you can do this right now.

“finish washing your hands,” you manage to say. it’s not easy to say anything at all, not with your hand still on his back and his shoulder pressed right into you. he does as you ask, but not before looking at you with all the fondness in the world.

“okay,” he mumbles. and when he’s done, he clumsily turns to face you, putting you chest to chest with him. your breath hitches and his hands land on your hips. he holds you loosely but happily, a sweet and loopy smile on his lips.

“oh– gosh, sam–,” you choke out in surprise. you can’t help the grin that breaks across your features. “d-dry your hands!” you chide him, giving a strangled laugh at his forgetfulness. the water on his hands soaks through the fabric of your pants and shirt where they hold you.

“shit, sorry,” he slurs, pulling his hands away, and you laugh again. you reach for the towel yourself before thinking about it and end up with your front slotted right against his. you jerk back with the hand towel and grab one of his hands, drying it for him, then the other.

he watches with uncontained endearment and adoration and you swear that you can physically feel it. “won’t you look at me?”

your eyes flick up from his hands before you can stop yourself. he pouts, but seems to be holding back a smile.

“i gotta tell you something,” he murmurs, holding your hands through the towel with purpose now.

you panic a bit. you don’t want him to tell you while he’s shit-faced, you want him to remember it and mean it. as much as you want him to say what you think he’s going to, you’re not sure you can truly trust a drunken confession. so you do the first thing you can think of to get him to stop and quickly hush him. “shhh! n-no! not… not right now. you should sober up, go to bed,” you rush to say.

his face falls and he takes it the wrong way. “i… i’m trying to confess my love to you,” he whispers, looking dejected.

“oh, sam,” you sigh, softening immediately despite the way your heart leaps from your chest, “i– i know, that’s not what i– i just wanted you to be sober, i didn’t mean to–” you reach for the right words blindly, unsure how to comfort his drunken self while also steering this conversation the right way. he’ll be upset if he doesn’t remember this in the morning.

you let the towel slip away to the floor and hold his hands without anything in the way. air fills your lungs as you miraculously compose yourself. you let it out. “i know,” you murmur, “and that would make me very happy, but you’re very drunk right now. would you be willing to tell me in the morning? is that alright with you? because that would make me even happier.”

he slumps forward and suddenly his lips are planted on your cheek in a clumsy, sincere kiss. your composure shatters. “alright,” he whispers, his lips falling to your ear. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”

[xoxolaw]

HI! Can you make a Geum Seong Je angst fanfiction? Like heavy angst.

+ THE LAST TIME

in which seong-je learns some goodbyes are forever.

Geum Seong-je x reader

angst

It started like any other morning.

The kettle whistled softly, steam curling into the kitchen air. She moved around with a quiet rhythm, her bare feet padding against the tiles. She hummed a half-remembered song under her breath, pouring tea into two mismatched mugs—hers a deep forest green, chipped at the rim, his an old navy one with a fading logo from a game tournament he once loved.

Seong-je sat on the couch, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, phone in hand. The soft glow of the screen lit his face, but he barely looked up when she called to him.

"Your tea's getting cold."

"Let it," he muttered, not meaning to sound so sharp.

Her hand faltered on the counter. She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked down at the tea she had carefully prepared—the one with a hint of ginger, just the way he liked when he didn’t sleep well.

He was still annoyed from the night before. Something about her asking him to log off earlier, to talk more. Something about the way he rolled his eyes. It was stupid, and they both knew it. But pride had a strange way of making fools of people.

"I'm heading out," she said quietly, placing the tea beside him on the low table. She forced a smile, soft and unsure. "Text me if you want anything for dinner."

He didn’t answer. Just nodded once, eyes glued to his phone.

She lingered in the doorway, watching him. Hoping he’d glance up. Hoping he'd say something that sounded like, Don’t go yet. I’m sorry.

"Don’t stay mad, okay?" she tried, voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll see you tonight."

"Yeah," he said, not looking at her. "Sure."

The door closed quietly behind her.

That was the last time he heard her voice.

---

The call came at 3:17 PM.

He was still on the couch, music playing from his phone now, a dull rhythm filling the quiet apartment. Her tea sat untouched. Cold.

He didn't recognize the number. He almost didn't answer.

But he did.

And the world stopped.

---

She had been crossing the street near the market, a takeout bag in one hand. Her phone was in the other. She was mid-text. To him.

"Got your bimbimbap and soda. No more grumpy boys tonight :)"

The car ran a red light. Witnesses said she didn’t have time to react. That she didn’t suffer. That it was quick.

He didn’t hear any of that. Not really. All he could focus on was the text left unsent. Still glowing on her screen.

He was silent on the call. The kind of silence that feels like drowning.

They asked if he could come identify her.

He barely remembered how he got there.

---

Hospitals were too bright. Too clean. Too cruel.

They led him to a quiet room and handed him a small bag. Her phone. Her wallet. A crumpled gift bag with a note inside.

Home is wherever you are <3

Her handwriting. Loopy and soft.

He clenched the note in his hand until his knuckles turned white.

---

The funeral was three days later.

Friends spoke in soft voices. Her parents sat in the front row, faces shattered in grief. Her coworkers came. Her college roommate cried the entire time.

Seong-je didn’t cry.

He just stood, shoulders stiff, eyes locked on the coffin. People offered condolences he didn’t hear. Touched his shoulder with empty hands. None of it mattered.

She was gone.

And he hadn’t even said goodbye.

---

The apartment felt like a grave.

Her coat still hung by the door. Her shoes were exactly where she left them. Her scent lingered in the air—vanilla.

He opened her phone. The passcode was still the same: his birthday.

There were dozens of photos. Some he’d forgotten she’d taken. Him asleep on the couch. Them laughing over ramen. Her legs tangled with his under a blanket.

There were drafts of messages she never sent:

"Do you ever feel like you're trying too hard to be okay with being loved less?"

"I know you're tired. But I am too. Just in a different way."

"Please look at me the way you used to."

He read every one. Over and over.

---

He couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep.

He started seeing her everywhere—turning a corner, sitting by the window in a café, walking in the rain. But when he blinked, she was gone.

He kept her mug on the counter. He couldn’t wash it.

Some nights, he sat on the floor in her favorite hoodie, clutching the pillow she used. Just to pretend.

He played her favorite movie. Let it loop. Memorized every line she used to whisper along with.

Sometimes he screamed. Other times he didn’t make a sound.

---

Weeks later, he visited her grave for the first time alone.

It was a cold morning. Wind tugged at his sleeves. The sky was an endless gray.

He didn’t bring flowers. She always hated the idea of wasting money on them.

Instead, he brought the soda she’d bought him that day.

He sat beside her stone and placed it down gently.

"Hey."

The word felt strange in his throat. Dry. Brittle.

He closed his eyes, sucking in a shaky breath.

"You were right. About me. About everything."

He pulled the note from his pocket. Creased and worn now.

"I was so stupid. I thought we had more time. I thought... I could apologize later. Buy you flowers. Hold you. God, I would’ve done anything just to have one more morning."

He looked up at the sky, tears streaming freely now.

"I didn’t even kiss you goodbye. I didn’t say 'I love you.' Not once that day."

The silence was deafening.

"If I had known it was the last time..."

His voice broke.

"I would've said everything. Or nothing. I would've just held you. I would've smiled. I would've made you tea and kissed your forehead and begged you not to go."

His shoulders shook as grief finally broke him open.

"You were my home. And I didn’t tell you enough. I didn’t love you loud enough."

He pressed a trembling kiss to the top of the cold stone.

"Wherever you are... I hope you knew. I hope you still do."

He stayed there until the sky darkened.

Until he had nothing left to say except the words he hadn’t said that morning:

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

And still, it didn’t feel like enough.

Because nothing ever would be again.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

Bro I almost cried writing this 😭. Hope this was angst enough 😭😭

[sunsherbet]

Insomniac

In which spencer reid offers to help you with your sleeping troubles.

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

CW: 18+, incorrect depictions of insomnia i think, post!prison spencer, aka freaky/confident spencer, praise, fastburn, fingering, not beta read

A smooth string of steaming water pours from the Keurig and you dunk a lavender tea bag into the clay mug. The water pulls the bag deeper into the mug like exhaustion pulling at your heavy eyelids. You press your palms into your eyes and let out a sob-like sigh in frustration.

It must’ve been the fourth time this week that no matter how hard you tossed and turned, sleep simply wouldn’t come.

The Keurig lets out a low whirr and you move your tea onto the island. You lean against the granite countertop and sip the warm liquid, dunking the teabag a few times for good measure.

Lavender tea was your newest attempt at curing your insomnia. Last night there was white noise and the night before was a weighted blanket- neither offering any meaningful relief. Your days have been a blur of restless naps and excessive caffeine, both efforts falling short in battling the relentless fog of sleep that clings to your mind.

By the time you reach the bottom of the mug, it’s clear—the tea has done nothing to increase your melatonin. You’re no more tired than before.

In your sleep deprivation and anger at another failed attempt you launch your mug into the wall. It shatters upon impact and you slide down the length of the counter in exasperation. Ever since you had moved to Washington DC, sleep had been a struggle. Maybe it was the bright lights and constant buzz of the city or maybe it was simply that feeling of homesickness you’d found nestled in the basin of your stomach since you moved away from home.

The sudden knock at the door breaks your thoughts, and you get up on shaky legs to answer it.

The clock above the stove reads 2:45 A.M. and you distantly wonder who could be at your door during this hour. Despite your exhaustion, you manage to gather enough sense to peek through the peephole. A man stands there, his floppy brown curls spilling just under his ears. He’s got gold wire glasses sitting at the edge of his nose. He wears a short-sleeve white shirt, light grey sweatpants, and brown bunny slippers. Those bring the first smile to your face all night.

Deciding a man in bunny slippers probably isn’t a murderer, you unlatch the door and crack it open just enough for you to slip into the hallway.

“Hi, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, trying to subtly adjust your Kohl’s pajama set.

“I sure hope so,” He gives a boyish smile and you feel something squeeze your heart. “I heard something shatter through the shared wall and wanted to make sure you were ok?”

Shit.

Of course, you’d woken him up, you threw a mug at the wall.

Seemingly sensing your distress he rubs a hand against his neck and says, “I was up anyway so don’t worry about waking me up or anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

And of course, he’s the sweetest man ever.

Maybe it’s because it’s late and you're tired or maybe it’s because his smile is so warm it makes your cheeks heat but you can’t seem to lie, “Honestly? I threw a mug at the wall because I tried drinking lavender tea because the stupid internet told me it’d help me sleep but it didn’t and now I’m in the same situation I’ve been in for the last few weeks where I can’t seem to fall asleep for the life of me. I was irritated and mad and upset and I’m exhausted but can’t sleep and so no I’m not okay.”

You finish your tirade with a long inhale and peek at his reaction through squinted eyes. He’s looking at you from under those stupidly attractive glasses and you feel your legs clench involuntarily.

Fuck. Now, you’re tired and turned on.

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t mean to go off like that. I think the lack of sleep is making me a bit loopy.”

Spencer shakes his head, “Did you know 12% of adults in America have insomnia?”

“Do you have a stat for how many of them chuck purple mugs at their wall because of it?”

He seems to mull over this for a bit before leaning in and saying conspiratorially, “No, but I may have something that can help you get some sleep. You know, before all your mugs are gone.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your heart flutter and before you know it, you’re nodding and opening your door further.

You hear his footsteps as you walk into your apartment and when you turn to close the door he’s so close you feel his breath on your skin.

Spencer swallows and your eyes trail the motion. The moment feels oddly intimate so you whisper your question, “So, what did you have in mind.”

“It’s been shown that when sex involves orgasm, it can help people fall asleep. Following sexual climax, the body releases hormones, such as oxytocin and prolactin, that promote feelings of satisfaction and happiness. At the same time, the production of cortisol — a hormone that induces alertness and excitement — decreases following orgasm. This combination of hormonal processes makes people feel tired and ready for sleep.”

Your mouth goes slack and you feel a familiar shiver of arousal. It’s almost concerning how attractive you find his knowledge of something as trivial as cortisol production. “Are you suggesting we have sex?”

He seems at least a bit flustered at your bluntness and gets rosey. He nods, “I hope you don’t find this rude, I just know what it’s like to have trouble sleeping and I found sexual stimulation profoundly helpful.” When you don’t respond he backs up, “I should go-”

With a rise of your toes, you’re gripping the collar of his sleep shirt and slamming your lips together. Spencer steadies you with a hand on your waist and gently guides you to the door. He tastes like coffee and toothpaste and he smells like cinnamon. Everything about him envelopes you so wholly that you have no choice but to surrender to it. His lips latch onto your neck and he alternates between soft kisses and gentle sucking.

You throw your head back but instead of making contact with the wall, you feel one hand shoot out to cradle it as his other drags your leg around his waist.

“You sure you wanna do this pretty girl?” He murmurs against your collarbone.

Nodding you helplessly roll your hips against his as you say, “Yes, please.”

He grins, “Well since you’re being so polite.”

Between his fluffy words and soft kisses, you’re fuzzy on when or how but you end up lying against the couch with his leg slotted between your thighs.

Spencer’s fingers trail against the hem of your sleep shorts and with a desperate nod of consent you lift your hips so he can pull them off you.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do baby, I’m gonna help you cum as many times as it takes for you to feel tired. Are you okay with that?” Spencer asks, allowing featherlight touches between the crease of your legs.

You start to nod but he shakes his head, “Words please.”

You whine and let your head thump against the plush sage sofa. You’re almost boiling with need and you feel a wet patch growing on your cotton panties.“Yes, Yes I’m okay with that.”

Before you know it Spencer is sliding your underwear to the side and slipping a finger up and down your slit. He drags some wetness from your center and uses it as lube to circle your clit. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, feeling your thighs tremble.

“Shh, I know baby but we can’t have you waking up the other neighbors like you did me now can we?” Circling your clit with one hand he uses his other to pinch at the peaks of your nipples through the thin material of your shirt.

Maybe it’s because of his deliberate and strong strokes or maybe it’s because you’re exhausted and this is the only semblance of peace you’ve had in days but you find your release within moments of him touching you.

The next morning you wake up from the first restful sleep in days and a pleasant soreness in your legs.

[thesnackthatsmilesbacck]

“On… a scale of… on… one to ten,” he said, blinking slowly, words dripping out of his mouth like honey sliding down the side of a jar, “how bad of a… idea would it be if we got married?”

I blinked once.

Twice.

There was a full beat of silence where the words just sat in the air between us, suspended like dust motes in sunlight. Then I laughed. Not because it was funny—okay, it was funny—but also because if I didn’t laugh, I might have started crying instead.

Katsuki Bakugou, my husband—technically, yes, already my husband—was flat on his back in a hospital bed, post-surgery, doped up on something strong enough to pacify a dragon. He’d wrecked his arm in the war. Not in some noble, cinematic, slow-motion kind of way. More like: there was a scream, an explosion, and then his arm was no longer behaving like an arm. Just… meat. Bruised and bloodied and dangling like it wasn’t sure it wanted to be part of him anymore.

They fixed it—mostly. New tech, new hope, new promises. They opened him up and did something that was either medical or miraculous or both. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know which.

But the anesthesia? That was the real show.

“A horrible idea,” I said solemnly, placing a hand over my heart like I was pledging allegiance to the worst version of our future. “Absolutely catastrophic. God-tier mistake.”

He looked at me like I’d ripped the moon out of the sky and stomped on it with my shoe.

“But… I like you,” he said, pouting in that half-conscious, half-pathetic way that would’ve been embarrassing if he were even remotely sober. His lips were dry. Eyes a little glassy. Pupils like blown-out balloons.

And I felt it then—that sickening swell in my chest. Like love, maybe. Or panic. Or maybe they’re the same thing, just with different names depending on the lighting.

“I like you too,” I whispered, because anything louder might shatter the weird, trembling stillness of this moment.

There was a machine beeping softly behind us, counting his heartbeats one by one. Each tone felt like a footstep closer to something I couldn’t see. Something we hadn’t talked about yet. The thing that comes after the war. After survival. After the part where everyone expects you to be okay because you're not bleeding anymore.

Bakugou blinked slowly again. “You married me,” he said, frowning like he was trying to do the math on something that didn’t add up anymore. As if he was trying to remember things in his loopy head. “Wait… did you?”

“I did,” I said. “You insisted. You said you wanted to sign the papers before surgery so if you died, I’d get your pension.”

He nodded seriously. “Smart.”

I swallowed a laugh and looked down at our hands—mine curled around his like a prayer I hadn’t decided how to say yet. His skin was warm. Clammy. Real.

Sometimes I wonder if loving someone like him is a kind of delusion. Like believing in ghosts, or in your own goodness. Something you do because not doing it feels worse. Because the alternative is emptier.

“I think,” he murmured, eyes fluttering, “we should get married again. Better wedding. With cake.”

“You’re high,” I said.

“But romantic.”

“You cried because they made you wear the hospital gown.”

“Still valid.”

I leaned in, brushing hair off his forehead, trying not to fall into the part of me that always wanted to memorize him—his scars, his softness, the sharp edges no one else seemed to survive. I wanted to say something permanent. Something that didn’t feel like a half-stitched seam.

Instead, I said, “If you forget any of this when you wake up, I’m telling everyone you proposed to me under anesthesia while drooling.”

His eyes closed, lips twitching. “Still counts…”

And for a moment, everything was still. Just the beeping. The warmth of his fingers. The dull ache of almost losing him folded up into the hospital sheets like a secret I hadn’t told anyone yet.

Maybe love is a horrible idea.

But maybe it’s the only one that makes any sense.

[crazykinkiwi]

How to tame a yandere?—Victim 1

Step One: Identify the Type of Yandere.

There are many kinds. Which one is he?

You stare at the glossy magazine cover, the title printed in bold, playful font: “How to Tame a Yandere?” It was a random impulse purchase—snatched off the shelf of that oddly charming new bookstore at the edge of town. You weren't even sure why you bought it. Curiosity? Boredom? Or… maybe, just maybe, because of the way your boyfriend had been acting lately.

“Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions,” you murmur, flipping the pages. “Satoru’s just… intense. Not a yandere.”

Still, as your eyes scan the article, you feel your stomach tighten.

“Step One: Identify what kind of Yandere he is.”

Underneath it, a whole chart appears. Possessive type. Obsessive type. Deranged type. Manipulative. Silent. Flirty but lethal.

Do people like this really exist? you think, squinting.

Your phone buzzes on the bed next to you. You glance at it. Nothing yet.

“…Okay. Let’s test him,” you whisper to yourself.

You sit up straighter and pick out the dress—the one he bought for you just last week. It was expensive. Flattering. A little too flattering. You slip it on, take a few shots in the mirror—one with a slight pout, one more candid—and then open your messages.

You: Which one looks better? I wanna post them💅🏻

You stare at the screen, then toss your phone aside, heart thumping. A few seconds pass. Then—

Satoru 🩵: Both.

“…That’s it?” You frown, checking the magazine again.

“If he doesn't react much... try harder.”

Your brow twitches. “Don’t blame me, Mr. Blindfolded Menace.”

You grab the matching lingerie set. He bought that too—said it would look cute on you. You never posted anything that bold before… but these are just photos. Just for testing.

Click. Click. Click.

Caption: Still can’t decide which one… might post both🤔

Back at Jujutsu High, Satoru Gojo’s chill day is interrupted by his phone buzzing again. He opens the message, casually smiling—until the image loads.

Silence.

His smile fades.

“Excuse me for a bit,” he tells the students, voice eerily calm.

Meanwhile, you’re lying on your bed, nervously eyeing your phone. It’s been five minutes. No reply. “Okay maybe I went too far—”

“Are you messing with me, princess?”

You scream—not from the phone, but because that voice came from behind you. You twist around and see Satoru Gojo standing in the middle of your room, still dressed in his Jujutsu High uniform, a smile stretched across his lips… but something beneath it feels dangerously unreadable.

“What the—how did you get here so fast!?”

He steps forward, removing his blindfold just slightly so one pale blue eye can meet yours.

“It’s just pictures!” you argue, clutching a pillow. “Jeez, calm down!”

Satoru chuckles. “Ah yeah, pictures of you in lingerie. Real chill stuff.”

You swallow. “It was just—uh—a joke. A test haha..”

“Oh?” His voice drops. “Want me to turn your 'ha ha ha' into 'ah~ah~ah~'?”

Your soul practically leaves your body. “I WAS JOKING!!! I’M NOT GOING TO POST THEM!!!”

He raises a brow, then his eyes drift to your hand—the open magazine still sitting on the bed.

“What’s that?”

Your heart drops. “N-nothing.”

Before he can lean in, you hurl the magazine across the room like a grenade. It hits the wall and flops to the ground, open to a page that reads:

“Step Three: If he catches you testing him, RUN.”

Fuck, You're so doomed.

—

Yet, You didn’t give up.

Last time might’ve been a complete disaster—okay, fine, a near-death experience—but you learned something from it. Sort of. Enough to try again. The magazine had flipped open later that night on your bedroom floor, as if mocking you, revealing a fresh step in loopy red font.

Step Four: Go out without informing him.

If he notices, observe how he reacts.

You had stared at it like it was insane.

“…That’s really playing with fire,” you’d muttered.

And yet.

Here you were, tiptoeing your way into actual danger. Again.

For science.

“Satoru’s not going to freak out,” you said aloud that morning, brushing your hair in front of the mirror. “He’s mature. He knows I’m safe. It’s just a little reunion.”

Even your own reflection raised an eyebrow at you.

But you still picked your outfit with care. Not too flashy. Not too boring. Just enough to say: I’m not guilty, but also please don’t vaporize anyone today, thank you very much.

---

The restaurant was dimly lit, filled with nostalgic warmth and laughter. Old classmates crowded around a table full of empty glasses and half-eaten appetizers, talking over each other in that chaotic way only reunions had. You recognized familiar faces, names that rolled off your tongue easily again. And for a while—just a short, shimmering while—you forgot all about why you’d come here.

You laughed. You drank. The wine was good—too good. You didn't realize how quickly you were sipping until the room began to blur slightly at the edges. Your cheeks were flushed. Time lost meaning.

“Y/n! I didn’t think you’d come!”

“Still gorgeous as ever!”

“Hey, remember our literature teacher—what was her name—”

You laughed with them. You wanted to. And when you finally excused yourself and stepped out into the cool night air, you didn’t think much of the faint dizziness. You just knew you needed a bit of fresh air before heading home. Preferably in an Uber. Preferably alive.

That’s when you heard footsteps behind you.

Then a voice.

“Y/n…?”

You turned around slowly. A guy—slightly taller than you, soft brown hair, oddly familiar smile.

“I’m Haruki. We were good friends in school, remember?” he asked.

You blinked, the name struggling to connect in your fuzzy mind. “…Oh.”

“You look even prettier now,” he said casually, stepping closer. “I think you drank too much. Let me drop you home?”

You took a small step back, trying to smile politely. “That’s kind, but I’m good—really.”

“Nah, come on,” he chuckled. “It’s not safe for a girl to be out drunk alone. At least let me walk you to the cab.”

You opened your mouth, about to refuse again—

And then a hand grabbed your wrist. Gently, yet firmly. Cold fingers laced through yours.

“She’s with me,” said a voice, flat and dangerous.

You froze.

Everything did.

The breeze stopped mid-gust. The flickering streetlights halted. The hum of the city went silent.

Your chest tightened.

“S-Satoru—”

But you weren’t facing him.

No.

You could feel him. The way the air pulsed with cursed energy, heavy and suffocating. The way your breath caught in your throat as the familiar chill of his domain seeped into your skin.

And Haruki—

Haruki opened his mouth to say something—

But he never got the chance.

In one blink—

You heard the sound. A clean slice.

The next second, Haruki’s head dropped clean from his neck.

Blood sprayed upward like a grotesque fountain. His body stood for one terrible moment longer, swaying, then collapsed.

You stared.

You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t scream.

Your lips parted, but only a choked sound came out.

Your brain refused to register the horror you’d just witnessed—

You could still feel the heat of the blood.

You were close enough to feel it.

Your knees buckled.

Satoru caught you before you could fall, his arms firm around your waist, his head resting against yours with something far too calm for what just happened.

“Lesson learned, right?”

—

Bonus scene:

“Took you long enough,” drawled Satoru, leaning lazily against the couch, arms spread over the back like he owned the entire world—and you were just the most prized part of it.

You stopped in your tracks, fresh out of the shower, your towel barely clinging to your frame. Water dripped from the ends of your hair as you narrowed your eyes at him. Bombastic. Unforgiving. The ultimate side-eye.

You knew how he was looking at you behind that damn blindfold.

He was practically smirking through it. You could feel his gaze dragging down your legs, pausing at your collarbone like he was mapping out your weaknesses.

Satoru chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Don’t look at me like that, princess. You know it only makes me worse.”

Before you could retort, he reached out and took your hand, pulling you down with zero warning until you were flush against him, settling you squarely on his lap.

You gasped, startled, your hands instinctively grabbing his shoulders for balance. “Satoru—!”

“The water must’ve been cold…” he whispered, voice thick with heat, “...let me warm you up.”

Your cheeks went up in flames. You blinked, stammering, “H-Huh?! How’d you—?”

But then you paused.

Wait.

How did he know the water was cold?

Your eyes narrowed slowly, suspiciously, and you reached up. “Don’t you dare—”

You slid a finger beneath his blindfold and pushed it up just a bit.

And there they were.

Those goddamn eyes.

That bright blue mischief practically glinting at you like a neon sign that read: I saw everything.

His grin was criminal.

“Satoru…” you hissed, voice cracking with betrayal. “You were watching me shower—?!”

He didn't even blink. “It’s not my fault that whenever I close my eyes, I see you. Naked. Even now.”

His gaze flicked down deliberately, eyes darkening just a shade as they lingered on the dip of your shirt.

Dead drop silence....

"You- you-!"

You squirmed on his lap now, half-mortified and half ready to throttle him with your towel. “You stupid!! Pervert yandere!!”

He just laughed and wrapped his arms around you tighter.

“I know,” he whispered in your ear, annoyingly smug. “And you love me anyway.”

You hated how right he was.

Even if you were absolutely reporting him to the Yandere Behavior Hotline later.

If it existed.

(Which it really, really should.)

—

Maybe Sukuna or Itadori next?

Masterlist