#literally can barely function and i have finals next week

[tethered-heartstrings]

not only do I normally have sleepy guy disease on a good and normal day, but its also approaching winter and getting dark super early and I am still post-op aaaand I think I am sick. how am I even awake rn

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[thebunnednun]

Overworked

Pairing: Pro Hero! Katsuki Bakugou x Stressed! Reader

Summary: Life is shit and Katsuki finds out you lied to him about taking care of yourself.

And you know what happens when you lie to Katsuki.

I wrote this for my friend @elarakive, she's been going through it so please give her some love y'all.

WC: 16,709

On with the show!!~

“I should’ve become a stripper in Miami.”

You staggered into your apartment, your body and mind exhausted from the endless cycle of school and work. The clock ticked mercilessly as you rushed to grab your work bag and change. Your commute home took about 20 minutes today, and there was barely enough time to catch your breath, let alone eat.

Sighing, you kicked off your shoes quickly before rushing into your small, cluttered room, your shoulders heavy with the weight of responsibility. The relentless cycle of school and work had left you in a mental fog, and the ticking clock seemed to mock your frantic rush. You had barely an hour to spare before your next shift, and the minutes slipped through your fingers like sand.

With trembling hands, you fumbled through your work bag, grabbing the essentials as you hurriedly changed into your work uniform. The sight of your reflection in the hallway mirror was a stark reminder of how far gone you were—dark circles under your eyes, hair a disheveled mess, and a look of defeat that you couldn’t quite hide. 

‘Fuck it, we ball with the consealer today.’

Rushing to the bathroom, you hurriedly adjusted your makeup in the bathroom mirror, the smudged eyeliner and messy foundation reflecting the chaos of your life. Every moment felt like a race against time as you dabbed concealer under your eyes, trying to mask the fatigue that had become your constant companion. 

You had to look good while in class. You have to look good at work so you can make those big bucks to pay for things that ultimately make you feel sick everytime you think about it. Like your rent, the car, the utilities, tuition payments, groceries, laundry supplies, toiletpaper, pads/tampons. Also Tynolonal because your little dehydrated ass kept getting migraines that you ironically didn’t take because you still wanted a working liver. 

In the midst of your chaotic routine, your phone buzzed with a notification: an unexpected double shift for the week. Your heart sank as you read the message. When you finally got a weekend off, it was swallowed up by studying, cleaning, and chores. Sleep was becoming a rare luxury, and your mental fog seemed to thicken with each passing day.

At work, the pressure has been relentless. Your manager's latest demand to pull full shifts this week felt like the last straw. As you stared at your schedule, the weight of it all crashed down on you. You wanted to cry, but you couldn't afford to break down—not with your job hanging in the balance. The only time you had to eat was during your brief lunch break at work, which you barely managed to find time for.

It felt like there was no end to the mounting responsibilities, and the weekend you’d managed to carve out for yourself was swallowed up by endless studying, chores, and barely enough sleep to keep you functional.

In the cramped kitchen, you grabbed a quick bite, your meal consisting of whatever was quickest to prepare. (A literal slice of bread.) The clock continued its relentless ticking, and you knew you were cutting it close. The idea of collapsing into bed, even for just a moment, was a sinfully tempting dream.

As you raced to gather your things, your mind was a jumble of deadlines and schedules. You barely noticed when your cell rang with its familiar “Kiss me through the phone!” ringtone to indicate that your boyfriend was calling. 

‘🥰 🤬 Kat-Suki 🩷🧡   is calling…..’

Heart fluttering, you nearly dropped the concealer wand on your blank uniform polo to snatch your phone off the counter and hit answer. 

“Damn it, what’s going on with you?” Katsuki’s voice cut through the haze of your stress, his usual bravado softened by genuine worry as the video connected. 

“You look like you’re about to drop.”

You paused, caught off guard by his sudden appearance and the intensity of his gaze. “Just… busy,” you managed to say, trying to muster a weak smile. “I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, his expression growing more serious. “This ain’t just busy. You’re running yourself ragged. What the hell are ya doing to yourself?”

With a frustrated sigh, you grabbed the phone and tucked it into the front of your bra, the slight pressure reminding you that you needed to hurry. Balancing your phone precariously, you snatched up your work bag and keys, your hands clumsy with the rush. Your fingers were already cold from the constant running around, and you fought the urge to drop everything as you made your way to the car.

The engine roared to life as you slid into the driver’s seat and connected your phone to the Bluetooth system. Katsuki’s voice crackled through the speakers, a gruff but familiar comfort amidst the car noises. 

“Hey, you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” you replied, blowing a raspberry into the phone. The sound was a mix of frustration and exhaustion, and you could almost hear Katsuki’s brow raise as he responded.

“You sound outta breath. What’s the deal?”

You chuckled softly, though it was more of a tired exhale. “Just the usual,” you said, your eyes darting between the road and the clock on the dashboard. “Running late, trying to get everything done. It’s been a mess.”

Katsuki’s voice grew more insistent. “Are ya eating properly? Getting enough sleep? You know, ya need to take care of yourself.”

You huffed, trying to focus on the road while keeping up with the conversation. “I’m eating, sleep is a luxury right now. I’m managing, Katsuki.”

His voice softened, though it still carried an edge of concern. “That’s not an answer, you know. You sound like you’re pushing yourself too hard. I don’t want you burning out.”

You adjusted the car’s air conditioning, the cool breeze a slight relief against the heat of your exhaustion. “I’m fine. Just got a lot on my plate. You know how it is.”

“Well, if you say so,” Katsuki said, though the worry in his tone was evident. “Just make sure you’re not running on empty. I want to see you in one piece when I get back.”

The call ended as you pulled into the parking lot of your workplace. You felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside as you grabbed your work bag and keys, the day ahead looming large.

“I’m in the parking lot. So I’ll call you when I get out, okay?”

“ ‘S fine with me.”

“K, bye.”

You blew a smooch into the phone and quickly hung up before you could cry. It’s not like you wanted to lie to Katsuki. Your boyfriend was THE human lie detector and hated liars. But you also didn’t want to worry him while he was out on missions. But alas, those were all thoughts for later as you gently turned off the car and put your game face on before getting out the car and making your way towards the building. 

💖💥💖💥💖💥💖💥💖💥

Your shift at work was as rough as you’d anticipated. Your manager was insistent about you picking up extra hours, their voice rising in frustration over minor issues. Customers were grumpy, complaints frequent, and the constant flow of tasks left you feeling drained. 

The office felt like a maze of gray cubicles and muted tones, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead. As you sat at your desk, the familiar clutter of technical documents and graphic layouts surrounded you. The scent of strong coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of printer ink. You rubbed your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips as you pushed through another round of proofreading.

Just then, your phone buzzed, and you fumbled to pull it from your drawer, glancing at the screen to see a message from Masha in HR. It was a reminder about the formal complaint you needed to submit to get your overdue salary processed. You frowned, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders.

“Another thing to deal with,” you muttered, tapping out a quick response before setting the phone aside. Your fingers flew over the keyboard, drafting the formal complaint with a precision that belied your growing exhaustion. Every keystroke felt like an effort, each sentence a struggle to convey the frustration and urgency of your situation.

The clock ticked slowly, its rhythmic ticking amplifying the silence of the office as colleagues murmured and typed away in their own bubbles. You glanced at the pile of papers on your desk—technical documents, project briefs, and some rough sketches for graphics that you’d been tasked with. The contrast between your university days, filled with creative media projects and dynamic video production, and this monotonous office job was striking. 

You missed the excitement of storytelling and visual creation, but here you were, grinding away for the paycheck that barely seemed worth the effort right now.

Rent was due next week, and the thought of it gnawed at your mind. You tapped your pen nervously against the desk, trying to suppress the mounting anxiety. Your minimal savings were earmarked for tuition, and borrowing money from anyone, let alone Katsuki, was not an option you wanted to consider. The last thing you needed was for him to find out and make a fuss about it, turning your personal financial troubles into a point of contention.

As you took a deep breath and hit ‘send’ on the formal complaint, the stress of the past few weeks seemed to coalesce into a single, throbbing headache. Your hands were trembling slightly as you reached for the small, lukewarm cup of coffee on your desk, the caffeine offering a temporary, hollow comfort.

“Hey, can you cover this layout for me?” your colleague, Jenna, asked as she leaned over your cubicle wall. Her voice was chipper, a sharp contrast to the mental fog you were drowning in.

“Sure,” you said, forcing a smile as you accepted the additional task. Your mind drifted to the weekend, a distant hope of relaxation and a momentary escape from the whirlwind of deadlines and obligations. But even that felt out of reach as you buried yourself in work, hoping that somewhere amidst the chaos, a solution would present itself.

The minutes stretched into hours, the ticking of the clock a relentless reminder of how quickly time was slipping away. As the workday dragged on, your thoughts constantly circled back to your financial situation and how you might manage to cover rent without dipping into your savings or burdening anyone else. The weight of it all felt almost unbearable, and you silently wished for a moment of reprieve.

💖💥💖💥💖💥💖💥💖💥

Finally, with mercy, your shift finally ended, you felt a wave of relief wash over you, but it was quickly overshadowed by exhaustion. You shuffled out of the office, your steps heavy and laden with fatigue.

The breakroom coffee you’d chugged was doing its best to keep you awake, but the jolt of caffeine did little to ease the sleepy buzz that had settled over you.

Your drive home was a blur, punctuated only by the occasional beep of your car’s dashboard and the monotonous hum of the engine. When you finally pulled into your parking spot, a sense of dread washed over you as you fished out your phone to check the latest update on your pay. The notification confirmed what you feared: your salary wouldn’t be processed for another week.

A gasp of frustration and disbelief escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the confined space of your car. You slammed your hands on the steering wheel, barely containing the urge to scream. The crushing weight of bills, looming deadlines, and the crushing reality of your financial situation finally broke through your walls of composure. Tears sprang to your eyes, spilling over as you let the frustration and sadness flow freely.

The emotional release was almost too much to bear, and as the tears flowed, the inside of your car’s windows fogged up, the steamy haze blurring your vision. You cracked the windows slightly, hoping to let some of the oppressive heat and steam escape. 

As the cool air started to seep in, you caught sight of Katsuki’s footprints on your windshield—evidence of the time he’d spent with his dogs on your dashboard, walking them around while you were driving. The sight of his footprint, a tangible reminder of his absence, made your heart ache even more.

The memory of him removing his footing while you had been driving around, convinced you’d seen a turtle on the side of the road, flashed through your mind.

Turns out it was a really moldy round rock and while you wanted to keep it, Katsuki made you leave the so-called “turtle,” which he’d dismissed as a weird rock, insisting it might be cursed and, “I don’t fuck with no spooky shit.” The thought of his spiky but playful protective nature contrasted sharply with the weight of your current situation.

Your mascara had bled and smeared, leaving dark streaks on your cheeks. You fumbled for tissues in the glove compartment—another thoughtful gift from Katsuki. With shaking hands, you dabbed at your face, trying to clean up the smudged makeup and regain some semblance of composure. 

But fuck the tissues because you wanted Katuski to wipe your tears, not Puffs with lotion. 

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your work bag and keys from the passenger seat. Despite the fact that you had no classes tomorrow—a silver lining provided by Mrs. Yamada’s decision to cancel due to the pleasant weather—you felt an emotional heaviness. You forced yourself to get out of the car, each step toward the building feeling like a mile.

The elevator ride up to your floor was a quiet, solitary journey. You leaned against the wall, trying to steady your breathing and calm your racing thoughts. When the elevator doors finally opened, you walked down the hallway with heavy steps, each footfall echoing your exhaustion and frustration.

You reached your door and, with a tired sigh, unlocked it and stepped inside. The familiar, quiet space of your apartment was both a refuge and a reminder of everything you were trying to manage. The world outside was still bustling, but here, in this small sanctuary, you could finally let down your guard.

Letting out another deep breath as you took in the comforting but humble surroundings. Your mind wandered to the weekend ahead, hoping for some respite and relaxation despite everything else. For now, you allowed yourself a moment to just be, to acknowledge the fucked up situation you were in and space out before you would have to be an active adult again. 

You slid down against the door, exhaustion making every movement feel labored. The cool, hard floor felt oddly comforting against your back as you contemplated the idea of slipping off your shoes and socks and crawling straight into bed. Your tired eyes were barely open when an unexpected, tantalizing scent wafted through the air, making you blink in confusion.

The smell was warm and inviting, reminiscent of the cozy autumn walks you take with Katsuki. The memory of him lifting you onto his shoulders while you collected pinecones, playfully biting your ankles when you took “too long” to pick out your favorites, made you smile through your tears. The scent brought a fleeting sense of comfort, but the question of who had been in your apartment and left it smelling so fresh and pleasant nagged at the back of your mind.

You pushed yourself up, the weariness making your movements slow and deliberate. As you wandered further into your apartment, you couldn’t shake the feeling of disbelief. Your living space, which had been cluttered and messy, was now impeccably clean, as if it had been professionally cleaned. The familiar scent of pine and a hint of something else filled the air, wrapping around you like a warm, fragrant embrace.

Shaking off the disorientation, you followed the delicious aroma to the kitchen. Your eyes widened as you saw a pot of rice and another pot of rich, spicy beef and vegetable stew cooling on the stove. The sight was almost surreal—your kitchen, which had been a chaotic mess just hours before, was now a haven of culinary comfort. The thought of someone cooking for you, despite your exhaustion, brought a mix of relief and confusion.

‘What the fuck?!’

You blinked once, twice, harshly, trying to process the scene before you. With a mixture of curiosity and wariness, you padded softly back to the living room, hoping to make sense of the situation. The only light on was the soft glow of the lamp in the bathroom, casting a warm, clean light across the hallway and into your living room. The air was still, save for the faint sound of shuffling coming from your bedroom.

Heart racing, you moved toward the sound, each step slow and cautious. The clean scent from the bathroom lingered, and you couldn’t help but notice how fresh and tidy it now seemed. You glanced back at the living room, which, in contrast to your earlier mess, now looked immaculate and inviting.

Heart pounding, you crept down the hallway, each step slow and deliberate. The freshly cleaned scent in the air did nothing to ease your anxiety. The apartment was spotless—too spotless. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. Maybe Michael had come back early and done this as a surprise? Or maybe Shoto, Izuku, or Jirou had somehow managed to sneak in, tidy everything, and leave without telling you. 

After all, only Michael, Kirishima, and Shoto or Izuku had keys to your place in case of emergencies.

But Katsuki? He was out of state. He wouldn’t be back for a while, and even if he had sent one of those cleaning services, they were always in and out in less than 30 minutes. 

This... this wasn’t right.

Your gaze darted toward the door. The shuffling sound from your bedroom had stopped. Panic began to settle in, a rising tension that had you frozen on the spot. You considered calling for help, but your phone was still on the floor by your purse, forgotten in the rush of trying to figure out what was happening. You didn’t want to lose the element of surprise.

With a nervous breath, you reached for the flower vase sitting on the narrow hallway table. The roses inside were fresh, their deep crimson petals just beginning to open up. You mentally apologized to them as you dumped the flowers onto the floor, water splashing around the vase. Your hands moved swiftly, reaching inside for the TTI Glock 34 hidden beneath the stems. The cold metal felt heavier than usual in your hand, but you weren’t about to hesitate. 

You weren’t going to die in your own apartment—not like this.

Holding your breath, you stalked closer to the bathroom. You could hear the faint echo of your heart beating in your ears. Quietly, with practiced precision, you closed the door behind you without letting it click, trapping the scent of cleanliness inside. There was no turning back now. The apartment had become unfamiliar, and whoever or whatever was in your room needed to be dealt with.

You crept toward the bedroom, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as you got closer. The shifting sounds had stopped. Whoever it was, they were still inside. You crouched, gun in hand, every muscle tensed as you approached the door. Then, without warning, the door to your bedroom swung open with a loud

"BAM!"

The sound reverberated through the walls as darkness loomed before you. Instinct took over.

You fired two quick shots into the void, the deafening bangs ringing in your ears. The muzzle flashes lit up the shadows, revealing nothing but an empty room. Your heart hammered in your chest as you stared into the stillness. 

Silence.

"Fuck this!" you muttered under your breath, adrenaline kicking into high gear.

Without thinking twice, you bolted down the hallway. Your feet were heavy, thudding against the carpet as you ran, and the door to your apartment swung open behind you. You burst into the dimly lit hallway, the dingy orange carpet and faded yellow lighting never looking so welcoming. The familiar smell of old apartments and chipped paint wrapped around you as you sprinted toward the elevator.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your legs pumping as fast as they could. Most of your neighbors were either still at work or too old to have heard the gunshots, but there was no way you were sticking around to find out. You slapped the elevator button, glancing nervously back down the hallway.

You stood in front of the doors waiting, breathless and confused, waiting for the sound of footsteps or the telltale signs of someone chasing after you. 

But… nothing. 

The air was still, almost too still, and when you turned around, your heart pounding in your throat, you saw nothing. No one was following you. No shadowy figure, no intruder, no ominous movement at all. 

Just you.

That rush of fear was starting to ebb away, replaced by an unsettling new sensation—doubt. Did you get them? The thought made your heart skip, but worse than that, another horrifying possibility crept in: 

Did you kill someone?

Your stomach dropped as if you'd just fallen from a cliff. The idea of it—of accidentally shooting someone, maybe even someone who had no intention of hurting you—was almost too much to bear.

You pressed a shaky hand against the wall, your mind racing.

What would happen if it was true? What if you had killed someone in a panic? Your knees felt weak, and the edges of your vision blurred with panic.

‘What would happen to me? What would happen to Katsuki when they found out his girlfriend had killed someone? The girlfriend of the Number 2 Pro Hero, a murderer?’

‘What’s Katsuki gonna do?’

The thought sent a cold wave of nausea through you. You wanted to throw up right there in the hallway, but your stomach was so empty that all you could do was dry swallow, your mouth tasting like metal and dread. ‘What would the courts say? Would I go to jail? What would happen to Katsuki's career?’ 

Your thoughts spiraled, knotting together into an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest.

You swallowed hard, trying to force the rising panic back down. The hallway around you blurred for a second, the dim, dingy orange carpet now looking stained—like it was soaked in blood. You blinked hard, shaking your head. 

It was just the light, just your mind playing tricks on you. You forced yourself to look away from the carpet, your eyes trailing back to your apartment door. It was still ajar, spilling the warm, pale hallway light into the void of your dark apartment. The contrast was jarring—the safe, slightly worn familiarity of the hallway outside clashing with the pitch-black uncertainty inside your home.

Your home.

You pressed your back against the wall, trying to steady yourself. ‘You couldn’t leave this unfinished. If you did accidentally kill someone, you’d have to take responsibility. You had to know.’ And if it was an intruder, then, well... that was another layer of mess you'd have to deal with.

But God, you were so done.

The exhaustion from the double shifts, the lack of sleep, the unpaid bills—it all weighed you down, made your legs feel like lead as you slowly moved forward. Maybe that's why you found yourself inching toward your open door instead of running away.

Maybe that's why, instead of thinking clearly, you fumbled with your purse, your fingers shaking as you dug through it to find your phone. Instead of flicking on the light switch by the door, you opened the flashlight app, shining its weak beam into the suffocating darkness of your apartment.

The soft glow from your phone barely penetrated the void, but it was enough to make out familiar shapes—the edge of your coffee table, the corner of the couch, the faint outline of your kitchen down the hall. It almost looked normal. Almost. But something was wrong. You could feel it in your bones.

And then you felt it.

Before you could even process what was happening, something hot and large clamped down around your arm. A flash of pure, raw panic shot through you, freezing your blood in your veins. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you barely had time to let out a sharp, breathless gasp before another hand—bigger, stronger—covered your mouth, smothering any scream you could’ve made.

The force of it drove you backward, your body colliding with the floor as the figure pulled you into the apartment. The scent of clean linen and something warmer filled your senses, overpowering everything else. You thrashed instinctively, your pulse roaring in your ears, but the grip on you didn’t falter. 

The hand around your mouth tightened, silencing you even as you tried to cry out.

Your mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. You couldn’t see anything except the faint glow of your phone, now flickering as it dropped from your hands onto the floor. Your gun—’Where the hell was your gun?!’

It was smacked outta your hand when the figure grabbed you, and now, it was probably somewhere in the apartment, out of reach.

“Stop fuckin’ squirming,” a low voice growled against your ear, sending a violent shiver down your spine.

The voice was familiar—so achingly familiar that your panic began to wane just enough for recognition to slip through the fog of fear. The heat of his breath, the roughness of his palm, the way his body radiated warmth even through the tension. You blinked hard, gasping into the hand that covered your mouth, your mind racing to catch up.

“Katsuki?” Your voice was muffled, barely audible against his skin.

His grip loosened a fraction, his palm sliding off your mouth just enough for you to catch a real breath. You gasped for air, your chest heaving as you tried to process everything. 

The fear, the relief, the utter confusion.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice rough and low. He didn’t release you right away, keeping you firmly against him, his hot breath still brushing against your ear. "The hell were you thinking? Firing like that in the dark? You could’ve fuckin’ shot me!"

You slumped against him, half in shock, half in frustration. Your heart was still pounding, your limbs still trembling, but the flood of relief that came with recognizing his voice nearly brought you to tears. He was here. He wasn’t supposed to be, but he was.

“I didn’t know it was you,” you rasped, your voice shaky as you fought to steady your breathing. “Why the hell are you sneaking around my apartment?! I thought I was gonna die!”

Katsuki’s deadpan expression barely shifted as he lifted you up and unceremoniously dropped you onto the sofa. The cushions sighed under your weight, but before you could even adjust yourself, he was already stalking across the room.

His broad back was tense, and the muscles of his arms flexed beneath his shirt as he moved with precision, a wolf-like focus in the way he carried himself.

"Okay, let’s start with this," he began, his tone rough and low, his eyes flickering briefly over his shoulder at you. “I'm glad you can defend yourself. If I was some regular asshole, I'd be dead for sure.”

You blinked at him, still in disbelief, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your heart was still pounding, your body still reeling from the shock, and yet here he was, as calm as ever. He flipped on the hallway light with a casual flick, casting a soft glow over the apartment.

“Stay,” he huffed, his voice gruff, as if you were some unruly puppy he needed to wrangle.

He moved toward the dining area, and you turned your head to follow his movements. You watched as his calloused fingers picked up your steel piece—your gun—from where it had fallen, handling it with ease.

There was no hesitation in the way he moved, no sign of the earlier chaos as he handled the weapon. It was like he had done this a thousand times before, like the situation was perfectly normal for him.

You craned your neck a little more, catching sight of him as he knelt to collect the discarded roses from the hallway floor. He carefully placed your gun back into the vase where you had originally stashed it, as if putting everything back in its proper order, like nothing had happened. His shadow moved fluidly across the walls as he did so, and the tension in the air didn’t lessen—if anything, it deepened.

And then, he turned back toward you, his face unreadable, but those vermillion eyes—God, those eyes—locked onto yours like a predator zeroing in on its prey. He didn’t say a word, not yet, but the intensity of his gaze was enough to make your breath hitch.

The soft glow of the hallway light outlined his figure, casting sharp shadows on his jawline, the dim illumination making him look both softer and somehow more dangerous at the same time.

He stalked back over to you, each step deliberate, never once breaking eye contact. His eyes bored into yours, and you felt as though he could see through every layer of your confusion, your fear, and your relief. You tried to smile, to break the tension, but it felt weak under his unrelenting stare.

Katsuki finally stopped in front of you, his steps coming to a halt as he sat down on the coffee table across from you. The wood creaked slightly under his weight, but he didn’t seem to care. He spread his legs a little, bracing his elbows on his knees, leaning forward slightly, his powerful body now looming closer, radiating heat and energy.

He was dressed down tonight—just a black skull t-shirt that clung to his frame and a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips.

Casual, relaxed, almost like he had been home for a quiet night in. Yet here he was, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. He had this way of making everything else disappear when he focused on you like that, making your breath catch in your throat.

He sat there, silent, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely between them. His back was slightly hunched as he leaned forward, making him look even more intense. His face was unreadable, and yet there was an edge to it—something simmering just below the surface, just beneath those sharp, vermillion eyes that hadn’t left yours for a second.

You shifted uncomfortably on the sofa under the weight of his gaze. “Uh, hey babe?” you said, your voice weak, barely above a whisper. You tried to giggle, to play it off like you weren’t utterly rattled, but the sound died awkwardly in your throat.

Katsuki didn’t move. His eyes remained fixed on you, not even a flicker of amusement crossing his face. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight, the muscle there clenching slightly. 

He wasn’t buying it.

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say or do next. The silence between you stretched out, heavy and oppressive, like a thick fog settling in the room. The only sound was the faint hum of the hallway light and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

For what felt like an eternity, you just sat there—him staring at you like you’d just committed the ultimate offense, and you shrinking under the weight of it. His gaze didn’t waver, not even once, and you could feel the intensity of his thoughts even if he wasn’t saying a word.

Your hands fidgeted in your lap, fingers twisting together as the nerves bubbled up inside you. 

“Katsuki, I—” you started, but the words trailed off, your voice faltering under the scrutiny.

Katuski considers you carefully for a moment, just a moment. Before slowly rising from his spot on the coffee table and making his way to the kitchen, flicking the light on, and you hear the opening of your cabinets and your favorite mug being taken out before your tap is run. Katsuki returns, makes his way to your dining room to also turn on the lights and then to your front door that he locks before also turning on the lights. 

Then, he finally makes his way back to you and hands you the mug that you accept with both hands and he doesn’t let go until you take three small sips at first and he sets himself back down in front of you. It’s not until your fifth sip that you realize he turned on all the lights so you could feel exposed and vulnerable under his stare. You almost choke on that, but hold it down in favor of meeting your boyfriend's gaze again. 

He finally spoke, his voice low and measured, but there was a tightness there, like he was barely holding back. “What the fuck was that, huh?” His eyes narrowed slightly, the air around him crackling with restrained emotion. “You really think lying to me was a good idea?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Lying? You blinked, confusion mixing with the remnants of panic, but you didn’t get a chance to speak before Katsuki leaned in closer, his face now hovering just inches from yours. The intensity of his gaze didn’t falter, those sharp vermillion eyes pinning you in place.

“Let’s not pretend,” he said, his voice dripping with a strange, unsettling calm. “You think I didn’t notice? That I couldn’t tell?” His lips curled into a smirk, but there was nothing playful about it. The way his eyes glinted, the way the tension in his jaw flexed—it was something far more dangerous.

“When did—” you started, but Katsuki cut you off, his tone sharp as a blade.

“When did I get back?” he asked, already knowing where your mind had gone. His smile widened, and the expression twisted something deep in your gut. His canines flashed, sharp and predatory, as the smirk grew into something almost menacing. “Right after you hung up the phone with me.”

Your stomach dropped. He heard? You should have known better. The way you’d tried to sound fine, the excuses you made about not being able to eat, the way your voice had shaken when you’d reassured him you were ‘doing great’—he hadn’t bought any of it. He’d come home right early, and he’d known.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued, “And you wanna know what I saw the second I walked in? You. Not taking care of yourself.” 

“Again.”

The words hit you like a slap. Your mind raced back to everything over the last few days—the lack of sleep, barely eating, pushing yourself to the point of collapse. You thought you could hide it. But Katsuki wasn’t fooled. He never was.

“You lied to me,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less dangerous. “Told me you were fine, that you were ‘handling things.’” He chuckled darkly, his smile stretching wider.

“Look at you. Does this look like ‘fine’ to you?”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, as the weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating blanket. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to form an excuse, something to explain yourself, but the words wouldn’t come.

Katsuki’s gaze hardened, and he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as if he were preparing for the final verdict.

“I trusted you to take care of yourself while I was gone, and what do you do? You starve yourself. You don’t sleep. You get so out of it you nearly put a bullet through your own damn apartment. All while telling me everything’s ‘great.’”

You could hear the frustration lacing his words now, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. But there was something else—something deeper, more raw, hiding in the way his voice shook ever so slightly when he said the word trusted.

"I tried—" you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but it felt so hollow even to your own ears. Katsuki wasn’t having it.

“Tried?” His voice cracked with a dangerous laugh, one that sent chills down your spine. “You tried? No, you didn’t ‘try.’ You hid from me. You lied because you thought you could handle everything on your own.”

He leaned forward again, the smile never fading, but this time it was sharper, darker, the full display of his teeth and sharp canines making him look almost feral. His red eyes widened slightly as he stared down at you, and there was an unsettling gleam in them now, something wild and untamed.

“But you can’t, can you?” he continued, his voice almost a mockery of sweetness. “You can’t take care of yourself. So guess what?” He leaned in close, so close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin. “I’m doing it for you.”

Your heart lurched in your chest as his words sank in. There was something terrifying about the calmness in his tone, the way he spoke as if it was a simple fact, something decided without question.

“You’re not eating? I’ll make sure you eat. You’re not sleeping? Don’t worry, I’ll fix that too.” His smile grew wider, more sinister, as if he were enjoying the thought of it. His sharp canines glinted under the light, and it felt like you were staring into the eyes of a predator.

The intensity of his gaze was suffocating, his red eyes burning into yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. His presence was overwhelming, his words wrapping around you like chains, trapping you in the reality of what was happening.

Katsuki’s voice dropped to a whisper, but it was no less terrifying. “From now on, you don’t get to make that call. You don’t get to decide when you’re ‘fine’ or when you need help. I do.”

Your throat tightened as you tried to find the right words, the right explanation, but there was nothing that would make this better. You had lied. You had pushed yourself too far, and now you were facing the consequences. But Katsuki wasn’t just angry. He was something else—something scarier.

He reached out, cupping your face gently with one large, calloused hand, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. But the look in his eyes, the smile still pulling at his lips, made the gesture feel anything but comforting. He hooks his other palm on the underside of your calve and squeezes it twice. 

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispered, his voice soft but deadly serious. “Even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. Understand?” Katsuki dips his face lower, closer to yours as his pupils bore into your own.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your chest tight with fear and guilt. Katsuki’s thumb traced your jawline, his touch deceptively gentle, but the look in his eyes was unrelenting.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his smile finally fading, replaced with that hard, determined expression you knew all too well. He stood up slowly, towering over you, and as he did, the weight of his presence pressed down on you like a storm.

He wasn’t giving you a choice.

And you knew there was no fighting him. Not when he was like this.

Katsuki stood over you, eyes narrowing slightly as he reached for the mug in your hand. His fingers brushed yours, and before you could protest, he gently tugged it from your grasp, tilting the cup toward your lips. The cold refreshing liquid hit your tongue, and you blinked in surprise, forced to drink it all at his pace. His gaze was steady, unyielding, as if this small act of making sure you finished the drink was a matter of life and death. 

There was no room for resistance.

"All of it," he muttered, and you obeyed, the warmth of the drink doing little to soothe the knot of nerves twisting in your stomach.

Once you drained the last of the mug, Katsuki set it aside with a soft clink and guided you to your feet. His grip was firm but not rough, the warmth of his palm grounding you as he led you through the bright apartment.

The light filtering through the bulbs was harsh compared to the dark tension that had settled between you two. Your heart pounded in your chest as you followed, your mind still trying to process everything that had just happened.

When he brought you to the bathroom, you turned to shoo him out. “I can handle this part,” you muttered, half-heartedly trying to get some semblance of control back. But Katsuki remained solid as a wall, unmoving, his eyes fixed on you. One eyebrow arched in that sharp, expectant way of his, and you knew you had no choice.

With a resigned sigh, you began stripping down, feeling the weight of his gaze linger, even though he wasn't watching you like that. His focus was intense, like he was making sure you didn’t skip a single step.

Katsuki stepped forward and locked the door behind him with a soft click, the sound echoing in the small, tiled space. The air between you thickened as he moved to turn on the water in your freshly cleaned shower, the spray sputtering to life.

Steam rose, filling the room, curling into the corners like a mist creeping through your thoughts. He tested the water with his hand, adjusting the temperature before turning to you, his eyes softer now, but no less serious.

“Get in,” he said, the command laced with care. His hand hovered near your elbow, ready to steady you as you stepped into the tub. You felt small under his watchful eye, but also cared for in a way that made your throat tighten.

Once you were safely under the warm spray, Katsuki turned away slightly, giving you some space, though he stayed close. He wasn’t leaving. Not until he was satisfied. You stood there for a moment, feeling the water cascade over your body, washing away the grime and exhaustion that clung to your skin.

You knew you had about five minutes before he turned back around, so you hurried, scrubbing yourself down with more effort than usual.

It wasn’t long before he came back, his eyes flicking over you with a critical, almost soft look. Satisfied with your effort, Katsuki reached for the showerhead and rinsed you off himself, his hands guiding the water over your skin. He was gentle, methodical, like he was handling something precious. 

And in his eyes, that’s exactly what you are.

After rinsing you clean, Katsuki gestured for you to sit down in the tub. The air was thick with the scent of soap and steam, but beneath it all was the tension that neither of you had fully addressed. As you lowered yourself into the bubbles that Katsuki had added, you felt your face flush at the intimacy of it all.

“Ya know,” he began, his voice rough but laced with something deeper, “when I got home early, I was happy.”

You looked up at him, blinking away the water droplets clinging to your lashes. His back was to you as he rummaged through the cabinet, but there was a weight in his words that made your chest tighten. Happy? You hadn’t expected that, not after the way things had spiraled today.

“Kirishima already went up to surprise your little friend,” he continued, his voice casual but still laced with that undeniable edge of possessiveness.

He found a bottle of your favorite bath oil and added a few drops to the water, the subtle scent filling the room. Katsuki always had a way of paying attention to details like that. Things you didn’t even think he noticed.

“So it was just gonna be me and you this weekend. Me and my girlfriend.”

The way he said my girlfriend made your pulse quicken. There was something about the way Katsuki spoke when it came to you, the way he claimed the words, made them his own. It was possessive, sure, but not in the suffocating way.

It was like he was reminding you that you were his priority, even when you couldn’t take care of yourself.

He finally turned back to you, kneeling by the tub so that his eyes were level with yours. The light in the room flickered, casting shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more intense. His vermilion eyes locked onto yours, and it felt like he was staring straight into your soul.

“So it was gonna be me and you,” he repeated, his voice quieter now but no less serious. “But instead, I come home to find you falling apart.” His hand reached out, fingers brushing over the wet strands of your hair, pushing them back from your face. The gesture was soft, but there was a weight behind it.

“What the hell, babe? You can’t even take care of yourself while I’m gone?”

You opened your mouth to respond, to explain, but he cut you off with a small shake of his head.

Katsuki’s hands were firm but gentle as he lathered your hair with shampoo, his fingers working through your scalp in deep, circular motions.

The pressure was so perfect that your eyes fluttered shut, a low hum escaping your throat as your body relaxed into the bath. It was embarrassing how good it felt, how every stroke of his fingers seemed to melt away the exhaustion clinging to your bones.

You could barely keep your head up, and just as your eyes threatened to roll back in your head, Katsuki splashed water at your face, jolting you back to reality.

“Oi, don’t go passing out on me just yet,” he muttered, though there was a playful smirk tugging at his lips. He shifted behind you, grabbing the showerhead to rinse out the soap, the warm water cascading down your back as he continued his work. The rhythmic sound of water filled the space, a stark contrast to the gruffness in his voice.

“You’re lucky I didn’t pounce on your ass the second you walked back into the apartment, lookin’ all messed up like that,” Katsuki grumbled, his hands sliding down your shoulders to scrub your back.

His fingers traced the curve of your spine, his touch lingering as he was refamiliarizing himself with every dip and curve. 

“You think I like seein’ you like this? All run-down and weak? You’ve got more in you than this.”

Katsuki paused, his hand hovering over your shoulder, and you could feel the weight of his stare even though you weren’t looking at him. “I just want you to be healthy. To take care of yourself the way I know you can.”

His hand moved down, scrubbing your arms with the washcloth, his roughness tempered by the care behind every stroke. “I get it, life’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but you don’t get to fall apart like this. Not when I’m around to make sure you’re good.”

His words were gruff, but there was something softer beneath the surface—a quiet worry that he’d never fully admit to. Katsuki rinsed you off, the soap sliding down your body as he worked, his attention never wavering.

As he moved to scrub your legs, his touch slowed for just a moment.

“You’re tough,” he muttered, almost to himself, his hand brushing along the curve of your thigh. “But that doesn’t mean you’ve gotta do everything on your own. I’m here, alright?”

He rinsed you one last time, his hand lingering at the small of your back as if anchoring you to the moment.

“And don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easy,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You owe me for not jumping your ass the second I saw you. But first, we’re gonna get you back to being you again.”

Your heart pounded, a mix of guilt and gratitude swirling in your chest. Katsuki wasn’t asking for permission. He was telling you. And part of you was relieved that you didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.

“No excuses,” he muttered, his fingers trailing down to tilt your chin up so you couldn’t look away. His thumb brushed against your lips, lingering there for a moment. “You don’t get to lie to me about this anymore.”

His gaze softened, but the intensity of his words remained. “I’m gonna make sure you’re alright. Even if that means watching over you every damn second.”

You nodded, the movement small, but Katsuki saw it. His hand dropped from your chin, and he leaned back, standing up to his full height as he grabbed a towel from the rack.

“Good,” he said, his voice softer now. He draped the towel over his shoulder and held out his hand to help you out of the tub. The air was cool against your skin as you stepped out the tub, his touch lingering on your shoulders as he pulled you close. The weight of the day seemed to melt away in that moment, leaving just the two of you standing there in the quiet.

Katsuki is rough around the edges, sure. But when it came to you, there was no doubt—he’d take care of you, fuck everyone else.

Katsuki wrapped the fluffy towel around your body, still warm and soft from the dryer. You nuzzled into it, relishing the feeling of warmth against your skin, the scent of fresh laundry lingering in the air. His chuckle was low, almost rumbling through his chest as he set you gently on the bath mat.

"Wait here," he said, his voice firm yet filled with that protective edge you’d grown so used to. You sat obediently, the towel cocooning you in its comforting warmth as Katsuki disappeared briefly.

When he returned, he carried a chair from the dinning and placed it in front of the bathroom mirror. He motioned for you to sit, and you did so without protest. The exhaustion still clung to you, but the care he was giving made it easier to just lean into his routine. You felt his fingers work through your damp hair with gentle precision as he sectioned it off to braid. 

The motions were firm but soft, practiced as if he had done this countless times before. You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax under his touch as he skillfully wove your hair into two simple, neat braids.

“There,” he murmured, wrapping a towel around the ends to help them dry. “That should do for now.” He gave you a brief once-over, satisfied with his work.

Next, Katsuki grabbed a toothbrush and came back toward you, squeezing a dollop of toothpaste onto it. Before you could protest or joke, he pressed the brush gently against your lips, and you reluctantly opened your mouth.

As he began brushing, your lips curled in a playful pout, and you made an attempt to nip his fingers with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Katsuki’s reaction was immediate, pulling back just slightly before leaning in close, his face inches from yours, eyes glinting with amusement.

“You really want me to bite you, huh?” he teased, voice low as his breath brushed your skin. You pouted but couldn’t stop the smile from creeping in. Slowly, you nodded, biting your lower lip. He smirked at your response, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder, just enough pressure to make you shiver.

Your breath hitched as you squeezed him, wrapping your arms around his waist, but the sound that almost escaped you was quickly stifled as you pulled back, burying your face into the towel.

Katsuki chuckled darkly, clearly pleased with himself. "Behave," he muttered, finishing with your teeth. He handed you the mouthwash next. “Rinse,” he instructed, his eyes following your every move. You swished the cool liquid around before spitting it out, feeling oddly refreshed.

Once that was done, he moved on to the next part of his routine—your skincare. His touch was methodical as he washed your face, scrubbing gently and making sure every inch of your skin was properly cared for.

You could feel the cool cleanser on your cheeks as he worked, and there was something oddly intimate about the way he treated each step like it was second nature.

“No more mascara,” Katsuki said, narrowing his eyes as he gently dabbed a soft towel against your skin. “I want you to keep those damn lashes.”

You giggled at his comment, catching his eye in the mirror. “Hitoshi says we’re the only ones who make insomnia look sexy,” you teased. 

“Don’t take compliments from a guy who needs a bag check for his fuckin’ eyes.”

You snorted, while Katsuki was rolling his eyes. “That idiot looked like death last mission. He and Denki passed out under the table like a couple of idiots,” he said, shaking his head. 

“We should to check in on them—”

He interrupted, raising an eyebrow. “We can check on them tomorrow.”

His gaze shifted, locking onto yours with a possessive glint that made your stomach flutter. “You’re all mine this weekend. Those extras can wait.”

You blushed, your face softening as the weight of his words settled over you. The tenderness beneath his rough exterior always caught you off guard, especially when he showed it in moments like these. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, and for once, it wasn’t just because of the cozy towel wrapped around you.

Katsuki reached into the drawer, grabbing your favorite lip oil with a casual confidence, but his movements slowed with deliberate care as he traced the line of your cupid's bow, filling in your lips with precise strokes.

You felt the cool glide of the oil over your lips, the faint scent of vanilla filling the air between you. Watching him concentrate so intensely on such a delicate task brought a smile to your face.

“I can remember the last time you did something like this~”

you teased, the sing-song lilt in your voice light, playful. His reaction was immediate—his sharp vermillion eyes snapped back to yours, but his reddening ears gave him away. For all his confidence, a comment like that still managed to fluster him. The slight color spreading across his face would’ve been easy to miss if you hadn’t been watching him so closely.

His scowl deepened, and he growled, “So you wanna get your ass knocked out or what?”

You giggled, placing one hand on his solid shoulder, your fingers brushing against the heat radiating from his skin. Then, with a grin, you pressed the crown of your head into the crook of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cheek. 

“Nooo, I’m just so happy you’re here!” Your voice was soft, genuine, the relief and joy of his presence making you melt into the moment.

Katsuki’s tension ebbed as he rolled his eyes, the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He let your teasing slide, his usual gruffness tempered by the tenderness he rarely let anyone else see.

Without a word, he scooped you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing, his strength effortless as he held you close to his chest. You clung to him, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt, his heartbeat steady under your palm.

‘God, I love your heartbeat.’

As he carried you through the apartment, Katsuki flicked off the lights with a casual swipe of his hand, the darkness closing in behind you both. When you entered your room, you were greeted with the fresh, clean scent of laundry detergent and something distinctly Katsuki.

You blinked in surprise, realizing just how spotless everything was.

The bed was made, your clothes folded, and the air felt lighter, even though your mirror—still cracked from earlier—reflected back the remnants of your impulsive outburst. The shards of glass had already been swept and vacuumed away, leaving no trace of the mess.

Before you could comment, Katsuki threw you onto the bed, your body bouncing lightly against the plush comforter. “Hey!” you protested, mock indignation coloring your voice as you propped yourself up on your elbows, glaring at him.

He just smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re asking for it.” You narrowed your eyes, grabbing one of your stuffed animals—a soft, well-loved bunny—and held it up like a threat. “I’ll throw all my stuffed animals at you, Katsuki, don’t test me.”

But the playful moment quickly shifted, his expression darkening with a predatory edge. His eyes gleamed as he climbed onto the bed with slow, deliberate movements, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight as he stalked toward you, inch by inch, like a wild animal sizing up its prey. The air between you thickened, electric, and your breath caught in your throat.

"You really wanna do that, sweetheart?" His voice was low, dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze flickered briefly to the stuffed bunny in your hand before it snapped back to your face. "When you know how I feel about your 'babies'?" The way he drawled out the word—"babies"—made heat coil low in your stomach, your body responding involuntarily to the tension in the air.

Your grip on the bunny loosened, and without thinking, you let it drop from your hand. It tumbled onto the bed with a soft thud, forgotten, as you instinctively wrapped yourself tighter in the towel, your pulse quickening.

Katsuki’s smirk widened at your silence, his voice a low rumble as he teased, “What, no answer for me?” He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, turning his ear toward you as if daring you to speak.

Instead of words, you leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the shell of his ear, your breath warm against his skin. “No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Katsuki chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied. He tugged at the edge of your towel with one finger, pulling it down just enough to expose your neck, your pulse beating rapidly beneath your skin. His lips descended, pressing a hot, firm kiss against the sensitive spot just above your collarbone, his breath hot as he whispered against your skin, 

“Good choice.”

Your breath hitched, your body shivering as you leaned into his touch, his kiss lingering like a brand against your flesh. The air around you was thick with unspoken words, the world outside fading away as you lost yourself in the warmth of his presence, the safety and intensity that only Katsuki could bring.

Katsuki’s hands reached for the hem of his skull-printed shirt, fingers curling as he lifted it over his head. The muscles in his arms and chest flexed with the movement, every line of his sculpted frame rippling with controlled power. He didn’t bother tossing it aside like he normally would. Instead, he draped it over you, lowering it onto your head before helping you slip your arms through the sleeves.

You smiled softly as the worn fabric slid down your body, the familiar scent of Katsuki surrounding you like a comforting embrace. His shirt was huge on you, the edges brushing just past your thighs, the warmth of it melding with the heat radiating from him.

You shifted beneath him, looking up as he hovered over you, his palms bracing on either side of your head. The proximity made your heart race, the weight of his gaze sending a shiver of anticipation through your body. Katsuki’s sharp eyes softened for just a second, the intensity still present but tempered with something warmer, more intimate.

He didn’t say anything as you wrapped your arms around his strong back, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath your fingers.

“Come here,” you murmured, giving him a gentle tap between his shoulder blades.

Without hesitation, Katsuki let himself drop, all the glorious warmth of his body pressing against you in a slow, controlled descent. The heavy weight of his chest flattened against yours, and you sighed in contentment, the closeness making you feel grounded.

Katsuki’s body, normally so explosive and full of barely contained energy, was now soft and pliant against you, like he was giving you the privilege of feeling his full, unfiltered presence.

Your hands naturally found their way to his spiky blonde hair, fingers threading through the surprisingly soft strands. For all the sharpness of his exterior, Katsuki’s hair was softer than most people knew—something only a select few had the privilege to experience. He guarded his personal space like a fortress, and it took time for him to let his guard down around anyone, let alone like this.

But with you, it was different. He was different.

He was your fussy Pomeranian—prickly to everyone else, but with a soft, loyal core.

You gently massaged his scalp, your nails scraping lightly against his skin as you worked through the spiked chaos of his hair. You could feel him relax, his tense shoulders loosening as he melted further into you, letting out a low grunt of approval. The sound was almost primal, a rumbling that vibrated through his chest and into yours.

You were so caught up in the moment, fingers tracing the line of his neck and combing through his hair, that you almost missed the sudden burst of air against your shoulder. It wasn’t until you felt the wet tickle of his lips blowing a raspberry into your skin that you realized he was trying to get your attention.

“What the—Katsuki!” you squealed, laughing as the sound reverberated through your skin. He smirked against your shoulder, clearly pleased with himself.

He lifted his head slightly, his red eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. “You listening now, or do I gotta do it again?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was that familiar edge of dominance underneath it all.

You huffed in mock annoyance, rolling your eyes before looking up at him. “What were you saying, genius?”

Katsuki grinned, the corners of his mouth twitching as he lowered himself again, letting his breath fan against your ear. “I said you’re lucky, you know that?” His voice was softer now, but it still held that commanding tone that sent a spark of heat through your chest. 

“Lucky I didn’t pounce on you the second I got back.”

His words lingered in the air, heavy with implication, and your breath hitched as you met his gaze. The raw intensity in his eyes, that feral spark you loved so much, was back. It wasn’t just a warning—it was a promise.

You swallowed, your voice coming out a little breathless. “Yeah? And why didn’t you?”

His grin widened as he pressed his forehead against yours, his voice dropping even lower. “Because I’m not an idiot. I could see you weren’t takin’ care of yourself. And I ain’t about to let my girl fall apart while I’m gone.”

You blinked, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you, though his words held a stern undertone. He shifted slightly, his weight pressing more firmly against you as his hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing just under the hem of his shirt. The touch was possessive but careful, like he was reminding you who was in charge of your well-being now.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “but sometimes, you get stressed and forget.” His hands stilled, resting on your waist. “So I’m gonna do it for you.”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Katsuki, in his own gruff way, always knew exactly what you needed. And it wouldn’t even  admit it outright, he cared more than anyone you’d ever known.

You felt your hands tighten in his hair again, tugging gently as you let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, feeling a mix of affection and guilt. You knew you hadn’t been taking care of yourself lately, but hearing him say it hit differently. It made you realize just how much he’d noticed, how much he’d been keeping track, even when he wasn’t around.

Katsuki didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he shifted his weight, lifting his head to look down at you again, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, well... just don’t make me come home to that shit again, got it?” His voice was still gruff, but there was an undeniable warmth in his tone.

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. He didn’t need to say it outright, but you knew—he wasn’t going anywhere. Not when it came to you.

Without another word, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and you let yourself relax under the weight of his body, feeling safe, loved, and cared for.

The two of you lay there in a soft, comfortable silence, the weight of Katsuki’s warm body settled against yours, his steady breath fanning over your skin.

His arms, strong yet gentle, stayed wrapped around your waist as if anchoring himself to you. The room was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the sheets and the subtle creaking of the bed beneath your weight. You were about to close your eyes, savoring the moment, when you felt a slight flutter against your neck. His long eyelashes were brushing against your skin, tickling you softly.

You blinked, lifting your head slightly. "Katsuki, you alright?"

A muffled, "Yeah," came from him, his voice low and slightly hoarse as he nuzzled into the crook of your shoulder. But something in the way he said it made you pause. His head shifted, settling over your boob (chest), right where your heart was. The sensation of his ear pressing against your heartbeat sent a wave of warmth and electricity rushing through you. Your soul felt like it was lighting up, a familiar connection between you two sparking alive.

Katsuki reached for your hand, his calloused fingers weaving through yours with a gentleness that contrasted his usual roughness. He lifted your intertwined hands and pressed them over his own heart, resting them there. The sensation, the intimacy of the moment, sent a tingle through your entire body, filling you with an overwhelming sense of love and connection. It was rare for Katsuki to be this tender, to show you this vulnerable side of himself. 

And yet, as you lay there, your heartbeats in sync, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

A soft, involuntary smile tugged at your lips as you looked down at him. You could feel the rhythm of his heart beneath your palm, steady and strong, and you were certain he could feel yours, too. The electric charge between you wasn’t just emotional; it felt physical, like your very essence was reaching out to him, and he to you. Katsuki, usually so tough and guarded, was here in your arms, sharing this tender moment.

But as you lay there, soaking in the warmth of the moment, something shifted. Katsuki stiffened slightly in your arms, his body going rigid against yours. You could feel his breath hitch, and when you looked down, you saw the confusion in his eyes, the way they glistened with unshed tears. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he looked completely lost, almost scared.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice laced with concern as you felt him tense even further. A flicker of panic shot through you. You knew how hard it was for Katsuki to express his emotions, and seeing him like this, vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down, tugged at something deep inside of you. 

"Are you having those pains again? Is it your chest?!"

Katsuki shook his head quickly, but his face contorted, and he let out a sharp sniff, his breaths coming faster. His fingers squeezed yours, his grip tightening as his other arm wrapped around your waist with almost a desperate strength.

You could feel the heat rising off his skin, his body suddenly clammy as if he were in a battle. His muscles tensed and flexed, his jaw clenched as he tried to fight whatever emotions were threatening to spill out.

"'S alright," he mumbled into your chest, but you could hear the tremble in his voice, the way it cracked as if he were holding something back. He buried his face deeper against you, curling into your body as though trying to shield himself from the storm brewing inside him.

"No, 'S not alright," you countered softly, your hand moving to rub slow, calming circles over his sweaty back. "Come on, Katsu, you know you can tell me."

You felt his heart pounding harder against your hand, the frantic rhythm echoing through your palm. His breath hitched again, and you instinctively shifted, running your fingers through his hair to calm him. Your other hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing the tension out of his tight muscles as his breaths came in shallow gasps.

Katsuki’s palms, usually dry and strong, grew slick with sweat, and you could feel his hands trembling as they gripped yours. He sniffed again, louder this time, his body shuddering as he tried to regain control. Several deep, shaky breaths followed, but he didn’t pull away.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he lifted his head. His red eyes were rimmed with unshed tears, his lashes wet as he blinked them away. He sat up slowly, pulling himself out of your embrace, though he still held onto your hand like a lifeline. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his gaze distant as if he were trying to sort through the mess of emotions swirling inside him.

You reached up, gently brushing a tear away from his cheek. “Baby, talk to me, please.”

He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to find his voice. When he finally spoke, his words were soft, raw. “I dunno... I just—” He paused, his jaw clenched as he looked down at your hand still resting over his heart. “I dunno what’s wrong with me.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him like this, so vulnerable and confused. Katsuki wasn’t used to feeling things this deeply, wasn’t used to letting anyone in like this. But here he was, breaking down in front of you, and all you wanted to do was hold him together.

You scooted closer, sitting up and pressing your forehead against his. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Katsu,” you whispered, your voice soothing as you cupped his face in your hands. “You’re just... feeling things. It’s okay.”

Katsuki closed his eyes, his breath shuddering as he leaned into your touch. “I don’t like it,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “I don’t like not... not being able to control it.”

You kissed his forehead softly, letting your lips linger there for a moment before pulling back. “You don’t always have to be in control. It’s okay to let go sometimes.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, just sat there with his eyes closed, his breathing slowly evening out as he let your words sink in. When he finally opened his eyes again, they were still glassy, but the panic had faded, replaced by a quiet resolve. He looked at you with an intensity that took your breath away.

“You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t... I don’t wanna lose it.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling as you pressed another gentle kiss to his cheek. “You won’t lose it, Katsuki. I’m here.”

Katsuki’s hand tightened around yours as he pulled back slightly, taking in a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. His eyes, still a little glassy but full of determination, met yours with a quiet intensity. “I didn’t want to be away from you,” he started, his voice soft but firm. “Even if work’s important... to me, you’re more important.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that his work as a hero mattered, that it saved lives, but the look he gave you made you stop short. His gaze softened as it met yours, a silent plea for understanding. And instead of fighting back, you took his rough, calloused hands in yours, bringing them to your lips and pressing soft kisses to his knuckles. Then, with a small smile, you pressed his hands gently to your cheeks, letting him feel the warmth there, the quiet affection you had for him.

“I’m with you,” you whispered, and those simple words seemed to ease the tension in his body. He let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling heavily before he continued.

“I get it,” he said, his voice a little stronger now. “Why you’re always trying to be so independent. You’ve got your own life, your own goals, and I want to respect that.” His thumb gently brushed against your cheek as he spoke, as though grounding himself with your touch.

“But I can’t... I can’t just sit by and watch you not take care of yourself. Sometimes... I feel like it’s my job to make sure you’re okay, ‘cause I... I love you.”

His voice cracked on those last words, and you saw the raw emotion flicker in his eyes. Katsuki wasn’t used to being vulnerable like this, to letting people see the softer side of him. But he was here, laying it all bare in front of you. You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity, the fear that maybe you didn’t need him as much as he needed you. It tugged at something deep inside you.

“I love you, and I want to take care of you,” he went on, his grip on your hands tightening as if he were afraid to let go. “I wanna protect you, keep you safe, even when you don’t think you need it. It’s... it’s who I am. And I’m not gonna apologize for it.”

Your heart swelled with affection, and you moved your hands over his arms, gently rubbing along the firm, tense muscles as you tried to soothe him. His skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel the faint tremble in his shoulders as he kept talking, the weight of his emotions finally spilling out.

“I just...” Katsuki paused, his voice faltering for a moment as he swallowed hard, trying to keep the lump in his throat at bay. “This time away from you... it made me realize a lot. How much I love you, how much I need you around. I can’t stand it when I’m not with you, even if it’s just for a few days.” He let out a small, almost bitter chuckle. “You probably think it’s stupid, huh?”

You smiled softly, shaking your head as you continued to run your hands over his arms, feeling the tension slowly melt away under your touch. “It’s not stupid,” you whispered. “I missed you too.”

Katsuki’s eyes flickered with relief, but there was still a hint of frustration lingering in his expression. “But you... you don’t take care of yourself, not the way you should,” he said, his voice more serious now. “You always look after everyone else—hell, you make sure everyone’s okay, but you don’t do the same for yourself. It drives me crazy.”

You gave him a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood just a little. “You can’t keep an eye on me all the time, Katsu.”

He huffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “That’s the problem. I can’t. And you don’t make a habit of neglecting yourself, but when you do... you’re a hypocrite. You’ll run yourself into the ground to help everyone else, but then act like you don’t need anyone to do the same for you.”

You wanna stick your tongue out at him but knowing Katsuki, he’d make you regret that all night long. 

Katsuki’s intense gaze lingered, tracing every inch of you with a sharp, possessive look that made your heart race. His eyes moved from the top of your head, down the gentle curve of your neck, over the way his oversized skull shirt bunched up on your thighs, and down to your toes.

You could feel the weight of his stare, heavy with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, it seemed like the air between you thickened with tension.

Then he blinked, and it was like a fog lifting. He shifted, reaching into the deep pockets of his sweatpants with a small grunt. “I wanted to do this ‘right,’ ya know,” he muttered, almost to himself, but the words were laced with that familiar gruffness. His fingers fiddled with something in his pocket, his focus still mostly on you.

“Spent weeks with those dumbasses—picking out flowers, going through all these fancy restaurants, trying to get the perfect gift. Because you’re my girl, and I only get the best for you.”

His voice was low, raspy, and the way his eyes softened briefly before trailing down to your legs made your breath catch. His hand, rough and warm, ghosted over your ankle as if testing the waters before his grip tightened, just enough to pull you slightly closer with a small, teasing tug.

The movement startled you, and you yelped, instinctively wrapping the towel tighter around your waist as you scrambled upright, your heart hammering against your ribs. Katsuki’s laughter rumbled through the room, deep and genuine, the sound like warm honey coating the air. He was taking in the sight of your flustered reaction with a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“Kats,” you started, still catching your breath as you eyed him suspiciously, “what are you getting at?”

The mischievous gleam in his eyes returned, that familiar cocky, dangerous look that always made your pulse quicken. His grin softened into something more meaningful, more grounded, but still tinged with that wild spark. That look in his eye? It was the one that always had you convinced that all the hot ones were definitely crazy.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he confessed, his voice dropping into something more intimate, more vulnerable.

“Since I met you.”

You blinked, watching as his gaze flickered down to your bare legs. His jaw clenched for a split second, and he let out a low curse under his breath. “Should’ve used that damn lotion,” he muttered, almost to himself, clearly irritated that he hadn’t taken the chance to pamper you properly.

The moonlight filtering in from your window cast a silvery glow over him, highlighting every cut and line of his muscles as if he were carved from stone.

He was beautiful, raw, like a storm contained just beneath the surface, and for a brief moment, you were distracted by the sight of him—the rise and fall of his chest, the way his stomach flexed with each breath.

You could have his babies right here, right now.

Then his voice softened again, and the mood shifted as he spoke. “I love you. I really do.” His tone was hushed, like it was just for you. His eyes—usually so full of fire and determination—now held something much deeper, something vulnerable that he rarely let show. It was just him. Your Katsuki.

“I’m not good with this shit. I know that,” he admitted, his mouth tugging into a small, self-deprecating smirk. “But I wanna do this right.”

You blinked, feeling the air grow heavier as he squared his shoulders, a determined glint returning to his eyes. His hand finally left his pocket, and in one swift, almost impatient motion, he pulled something out and opened it in front of you. 

A small box. Velvet. The kind that held only one thing.

Your breath hitched, and your entire world seemed to narrow down to that tiny box and the ring inside it. It glittered in the low light, catching the moon's glow, but the details were lost on you as your heart thudded wildly in your chest.

Katsuki looked at you, dead-on, his expression both serious and soft at the same time, like he was offering you everything he had. 

“Would you marry me and be my hot mess?”

For a split second, you couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even process the words that had just come out of his mouth. You felt like someone had knocked the air out of your lungs with a feather—hell, they could have knocked you over with one.

The world stopped spinning. Your eyes darted between the ring and Katsuki, who was watching you carefully now, his breath held as if he was waiting for your next move. You could feel the gravity of this moment pressing down on your chest, and yet... it wasn’t the heavy kind of weight that scared you. No. It was something else entirely.

It was the kind of weight that came with the realization that this moment, this person in front of you, was everything you never knew you needed.

A million thoughts raced through your mind, and none of them made sense, but your body reacted first. Your lips parted, but no words came out at first, only a small breathless laugh as you brought your shaking hands up to your mouth. Katsuki’s eyes searched your face, trying to gauge your reaction, and the barest hint of nerves flashed behind his hardened exterior. He might’ve been a fearless hero, but this?

This was different.

“Katsuki,” you whispered, barely able to find your voice as the emotions swirled inside you. “You... you’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he replied immediately, his voice unwavering now. His eyes bore into yours with that fierce conviction only he could pull off. “I’ve been serious about you from the start. I love you, and I’m not waiting around anymore. I want you. With me. Always.”

His words sank into you, and before you even fully realized what you were doing, your hands shot forward, grabbing his face, pulling him down toward you. You kissed him—deeply, passionately, pouring everything you had into it, letting the overwhelming feelings consume you.

His lips were warm, familiar, grounding. Katsuki groaned softly into the kiss, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer as if the space between you was too much to bear.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads pressed together, your breath mingling with his as you both panted softly. The world around you faded, and all that was left was the man in front of you and the question still hanging in the air.

“Yes,” you breathed, smiling through the tears that had welled up in your eyes. “Yes, Katsuki. I’ll marry you.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw it—the raw, unfiltered joy on his face. It wasn’t loud or boastful, but it was there, in the soft curl of his lips and the way his eyes shone with unshed tears.

Katsuki Bakugo had won another battle—this time, with your heart.

Katsuki's rough fingers, calloused and warm, carefully slid the ring over your finger, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. You couldn’t help but gasp as the gem caught the light, sparkling in a way that made your heart skip a beat. It was more than beautiful—it was personal. The stone in the center was your birthstone, cut into your favorite shape and polished into your favorite color, surrounded by a delicate halo of tiny rubies. Rubies just like his eyes.

Your gaze flickered to the ring and then back to Katsuki. “How… how did you…?” you whispered, utterly floored. The details were so specific, the kind that you had only mentioned in passing, mostly to Michael. But somehow, Katsuki had pieced it all together.

The rubies glistened against the band, and nestled between them were smaller gemstones that mirrored the exact shade of your eyes. And if that wasn’t enough, there was another set of gems, a deep, fiery orange—the color of Katsuki’s favorite thing: explosions.

You turned the ring over in your hand, overwhelmed by the craftsmanship, the thoughtfulness. Every inch of the piece was a reflection of you, of him, of both of you together. Whoever he went to had worked some serious magic. As your fingers brushed over the band, something else caught your eye. With trembling hands, you slipped the ring off, turning it over, and there it was—engraved into the inside of the band in Katsuki’s unmistakable bluntness:

“I love you, dumbass.”

That was it. The tears came again, flooding your vision before you could stop them. Your chest tightened with the overwhelming sweetness of it all. You’d never expected this. How could you? This whole day had taken such a turn that your emotions were a tangled mess, and now, here you were, crying like a baby over a ring. But it wasn’t just any ring—it was him, you, everything.

“Katsuki,” you sobbed, bringing the ring to your chest as if it could stop the flood of emotions. Your voice trembled, but before you could even say another word, Katsuki’s eyes widened in pure panic. He hated when you cried. Hell, it wasn’t often that you let yourself fall apart like this, and seeing you like that sent him spiraling.

“Oi, oi! Don’t cry, damn it!” he barked, his voice frantic as he moved in closer, cupping your face with both hands. But then his panic melted into something softer as his thumbs wiped away the tears. 

“I’m serious, stop it, or you’re gonna make me lose it.”

But the sight of your tears didn’t stop him from acting on impulse. In typical Katsuki fashion, he leaned down and kissed you, first pressing his lips all over your face, desperate to dry every tear. But he didn’t stop there. In a ridiculous, completely endearing move, he leaned over and licked your cheek, tasting the saltiness of your tears with a playful smirk. You squealed, pulling away in shock, your face scrunched up in disbelief. 

“Did you just—ew, Katsuki! That’s so gross!”

You smacked his solid chest, half laughing, half horrified, but that only egged him on. “Oh, I’m gross now, huh?” he teased, his voice low and dangerous as he grinned down at you. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he launched himself at you, playfully wrestling you down onto the bed.

“No, no—Katsuki!” you shrieked, giggling uncontrollably as his strong arms trapped you beneath him. He pinned you effortlessly, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. His lips were on you again, peppering your face with kisses, and soon enough, the two of you were tumbling around in the sheets, rolling and laughing like a couple of kids.

The wrestling match was chaotic, full of breathless laughter, limbs tangled up, and soft murmurs of affection between teasing jabs. Katsuki was surprisingly playful, and before long, you were both breathless, collapsing side by side on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as your hearts raced in sync.

You turned your head, catching the way his chest heaved with each breath, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His messy hair, usually so spiked and wild, was disheveled in the cutest way possible. Without thinking, you reached out, running your fingers through it, smoothing it back in place. He hummed in contentment, his eyes half-lidded as he looked over at you.

“But where’s your ring?” you asked, suddenly realizing that the gesture had been one-sided. You were the one with the ring on your finger, but what about him?

Katsuki chuckled, his voice rumbling low in his chest. “My ring, huh?” He smirked, eyes sparkling with that familiar cocky glint. “I’ll just give you my wallet, and you can surprise me.”

You blinked, taken aback for a second, before bursting into laughter. “M’Okay!” you replied, your voice full of playful mockery. “But don’t blame me if I pick something pink and covered in glitter.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” he shot back, unbothered by the thought, though you knew he’d raise hell if you actually went through with it. The both of you erupted into laughter again, the sound filling the room like music.

Katsuki shifted, rolling onto his side as he gently took your hand in his, threading your fingers together like he always did. His lips found your hand again, this time softer, more purposeful. He kissed the spot right over your ring, his lips lingering there for a moment, as if sealing his promise to you.

“I love you, Katsuki Bakugou,” you whispered, your heart swelling with warmth as you looked at him, your fiancé, the man who had somehow managed to make this chaotic mess of a proposal the most perfect moment of your life.

Katsuki’s eyes softened, his rough exterior melting away in the intimate glow of the moonlight. He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I love you too, dumbass,” he muttered, his voice gruff, but his expression was nothing short of tender.

In that moment, wrapped up in each other, you realized something: this—this wild, crazy love you shared with Katsuki—was the only thing that made sense in the world. You lay there together, side by side, hearts entwined, you knew without a doubt that you had found your forever.

💖💥💖💥💖💥💖💥💖💥

The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting a soft, warm glow across the bed, but you groaned, stretching lazily as you woke up. Your fingers instinctively brushed against your hair, feeling the unruly mess it had become overnight—complete with knots and stubborn curls that had a mind of their own.

You squinted at the brightness as your phone buzzed on the bedside table. Checking it, you saw the familiar ping of an email notification and grinned. You've been paid.

Sweet relief!

Rolling over to share the good news, you blinked in surprise at the empty side of the bed. The sheets were cold, and there was no sign of your fiancé—wait, boyfriend—wait, fiancé! A flutter of excitement bubbled up inside you at the thought of the word.

But the smell of breakfast caught your attention, and any irritation at his absence melted away. The unmistakable scent of eggs, with a hint of something smoky—probably bacon—wafted down the hallway, accompanied by the faint clink of pans from the kitchen.

Katsuki was already up, and the thought made you smile.

Without bothering to fix your appearance, you hopped out of bed, your feet hitting the cool, hardwood floor with a soft thud. You knew you’d hear about it later—how walking around barefoot would make you catch a cold. He always ranted about that kind of stuff, but you’d just smile and give him your usual “Yes, mama,” while he’d glare at you with that fiery look. 

But for now, you padded down the hall, completely barefoot, on a mission.

The closer you got, the stronger his scent became—that familiar, intoxicating mix of burnt caramel and something inherently Katsuki. You spotted him before he even saw you, standing at the stove, his back turned, a spatula in hand as he expertly flipped eggs in a pan. His muscles were taut, his broad shoulders moving effortlessly as he worked. He was dressed in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and you couldn’t help but admire the sight.

With a mischievous grin, you quietly made your way over, your bare feet silent against the floor. And then, in one swift move, you leapt onto his back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face into the crook of his neck. 

“Hi, fiancé!” you greeted, your voice muffled as you inhaled deeply, taking in that addictive scent that was all his.

Katsuki stiffened for a split second, more from surprise than anything else, but he quickly recovered. With a chuckle, he reached over and turned off the stove, placing the spatula down before his hands found their way to your thighs, gripping them as he adjusted your weight.

“You’re gonna burn the damn house down one day, y’know that?” he muttered, but there was a playful note in his voice. Before you could even respond, he effortlessly spun you around, lifting you off his back and setting you down on the kitchen counter nearby. His strength never failed to amaze you, and you giggled as your bare legs dangled off the edge, your hands resting on his chest.

His eyes softened as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lazy good morning kiss. “Hi, teddy bear,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice still raspy from sleep.

You smiled into the kiss, but just as you started to pull him closer, he pulled back, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Did you brush your teeth?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You snorted, shaking your head. “No.”

He frowned, glancing down. “Did you use the bathroom?”

“Nope.”

His scowl deepened, though you could see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Wash your face?”

“Also, no.”

Katsuki groaned dramatically, running a hand through his messy, spiked hair. “And this is exactly why you’re moving in with me today. You need supervision,” he grumbled, though his voice was more affectionate than angry. Before you could argue, he lightly smacked your thighs, the contact sending a playful jolt through you. 

“Katsuki!” you gasped, half laughing as you swatted at him, but he only pointed toward the living room.

Your delicate features blossomed into an expression of confusion. “What?”  But he didn’t respond, instead looking so mischievous and pleased with himself.

That’s when you noticed it—half of your living room was in disarray, large boxes stacked high, and furniture already disassembled. It looked like a moving truck had stormed through your place. Your jaw dropped as you stared at the sight.

“KATSUKI!” you shrieked, your voice bouncing off the walls as the reality of what he’d done sank in. He had already packed half your stuff—without even telling you! You couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t even flinch at your outburst, just gave you that smug, self-satisfied grin of his, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“What? I told you, you’re movin’ in today. Thought I’d help speed things up,” he said, shrugging as if he hadn’t just dismantled your entire living room.

You huffed, staring at the boxes like you couldn’t believe your eyes. “You could’ve at least warned me!”

He chuckled, stepping closer until he was standing between your legs, his hands resting on either side of your waist. “Nah. You’d just overthink it. This way, it’s done, and we don’t have to argue about it,” he smirked, leaning in to kiss your nose.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m still not done with school, you know. And we haven’t even… there’s no… ring on your finger.”

Katsuki quirked a brow, his smirk turning wicked. “I told you, give me my wallet, and you can surprise me with the ring.”

You laughed, shaking your head at his nonchalance. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am,” he said, the playful edge to his voice making your heart skip a beat. “And don’t worry about school. You can study at my place just fine.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, he kissed you again, this time more firmly, his lips capturing yours in a way that made your head spin. You melted into it, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as you pulled him closer, your feet curling around his calves.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your lips tingling. “You don’t play fair,” you muttered, but the smile on your face betrayed you.

He grinned, kissing your forehead softly before pressing his lips to your knuckles where your ring sat. “I play to win, babe. And I already did,” he whispered, his voice low and full of affection.

You sighed, leaning into him, knowing full well that Katsuki Bakugou always got his way.

Before you could respond to his sweet words, a mischievous glint sparked in your eyes. You leaned in closer, pretending to go in for another kiss, but at the last second, you bit him—just lightly, on his shoulder—before snatching the plate of bacon from the counter. Katsuki blinked, his eyes widening in confusion before narrowing sharply as he processed what had just happened.

“You little brat!” he growled, his voice full of playful irritation.

With a squeal, you jumped off the counter, bare feet hitting the cold floor, and bolted for the bedroom, the stolen bacon in hand. You knew exactly what you were doing. Katsuki typically hated when anyone touched his food (although he actually had a habit of feeding you from his plate and fork), but you couldn’t help it. You loved riling him up, especially when he got that fire in his eyes!~

"Come back here, princess!" he barked, and the sound of his footsteps echoed behind you.

You darted around the corner, your heart pounding with adrenaline and laughter bubbling in your throat. The hardwood floor was slippery, and you barely made it to the door when Katsuki’s booming footsteps got louder. He was fast, too fast. 

A real predator on the hunt, and you were his target.

“Fuuuuck it, we ball!” you shouted over your shoulder, laughing as you slid into the bedroom. You could hear him cursing under his breath, muttering something about how you were always testing him. You were a princess, and yeah, maybe a bit of a brat, but that was part of your charm. You loved to push his buttons, loved how easy it was to get under his skin.

You heard the door slam behind you as Katsuki entered the room, hot on your heels. His eyes locked on yours, his gaze intense as he advanced. You tried to dodge him, but he was quicker, snatching the plate of bacon from your hands before grabbing your waist and pulling you back into his chest.

“Gotcha now, you little thief,” he growled in your ear, his voice low and warning, but you could hear the amusement in his tone.

You squirmed, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, but he held you firm, his arms like steel bands around your waist. “Okay, okay! I surrender!” you giggled, breathless from the chase.

“You’re damn right you do,” he murmured before spinning you around and planting a quick, searing kiss on your lips. It was rough, but it was Katsuki through and through—fiery, intense, and full of passion.

You grinned against his lips, leaning into him. “Guess I’m still your little brat then, huh?”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as he looked down at you with that same possessive, loving gaze that always made your heart skip a beat. “Damn right you are. My brat, my princess, my pain in the ass.”

You laughed, nuzzling into his chest as you felt his arms tighten around you. “And you’re my grumpy fiancé,” you teased, poking his ribs.

Katsuki grumbled, but his smirk softened, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Yeah. But I’m your grumpy fiancé, so fuck it—we ball.”

In that moment, tangled together, laughter still lingering in the air, you knew without a doubt that you were his, and he was yours. No matter what life throws at you, you’d face it together. 

Always.

Taglist for Bakugou: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, @raendarkfaerie If you wanna be added lemme know!

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Farmer Bakugou x Gardener Reader here in the master list. I also have a Pro Hero! Bakugou x Sugar Baby fic.

Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[sturnmeovr]

♡‧₊˚ Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader - Licensed Driver

(not me posting this a week before Chris told us he got his license😭)

“I fucking did it!’ your boyfriend shouts throughout the house as soon as he opens the front door. The boys had been gone the last few hours, failing to tell you what their plans were since you in a dead sleep on the couch when they decided to leave.

Your morning sickness was starting to ease up, only enough to make you feel like you're somewhat functioning. The last few months consisted of nothing but vomiting, off-and-on fevers, and sweats and shakes, making it nearly impossible to get anything done. You were happy your constant state of nausea was finally wearing off.  Chris, being the big help he was, always made sure everything was squared away for you.

“Put your keys away, baby,” he jokes as he bounces around the corner, holding up a laminated square card next to his face with an ear-to-ear grin. You let a gasp roll off your tongue, standing up from the couch. Before you can say anything, Chris is already putting his feet in motion, “ya babydaddy is a licensed driver,” he beams, not letting his smile drop one bit. His comment makes an oh-so familiar redness creep to your cheeks, and you press your lips together, fighting back a smile. It was obvious he still had the same effect on you as he did the day you met. Clearing your throat to make no words get caught, you take the license from him to admire his picture, “you look so cute,” you coo at him. 

Chris hurriedly snatches it back, “my picture is bogus. I had hat hair,” he admits before you snatch it from his hand, “hey!” astonishment laced around his words.  “Chris, I’ve literally seen you with bedhead, I don’t care about your hat hair,” you snort before taking another look at his license, “why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve came with you!” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he tells you, sitting down on the couch and picking up a bag of Doritos you had abandoned an hour earlier. You sit down next to him, watching as he shoves a few in his mouth, “I don’t want you driving to all the appointments with how baby bean’s been making you feel lately," his voice muffled by the crunching of chips. You knit your brows together, indicating you could barely understand him. Once Chris finishes chewing, his words become more clear, "I don't want you go out late at night on snack run either. People kidnap pregnant ladies, y'know," he tells you before sitting up to take a sip of his Pepsi, oblivious to the fact he had just unlocked a new fear for you. You weren't leaving the house anytime soon by yourself.

“Yea, now he can stop asking me to get all the disgusting food combinations that kid wants,” Matt chimes in as he strides over the opposite side of the sectional, plopping down with a playful smirk plastered on his face. His comment earns a bellowed laugh from Nick who was sitting at the kitchen island, “It's Chris’s kid, what do you expect?” his voice laced with sarcasm. Chris lets out a heavy sigh as he tosses the bag of chips in your lap, “wow, no congratulations?" matching the same playful energy as his brothers, "I got a kid on the way, and I just got my license. Shows how much you guys care,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Matt turns to you with the same shit-eating grin Chris had smeared across his face a few moments prior, “looks like you’re gonna have two babies on your hands in the next couple months, huh?” 

“As long as you babysit,” you shoot back, and he follows it with, “you fucking wish," quickly after.

I love how I came up with this fic a few days before Chris got his license 😂😂

Wc - 628?? Not proofread yet

An - Since you guys loved the last blurb 🥹 I just love this au sooo much Don’t forget to send me asks about babydaddy!Chris & sweetheart!Reader. Check out my babydaddy!Chris masterlist or my main masterlist in the meantime! I have a few post scheduled so be on the lookout if you aren’t on my tag list 🫶🏻

Taglist for all my works (comment to be added)

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Dividers & photo edits are mine. Feel free to use.

[delulujuls]

young, dumb & bwoke | ln4

hi! as u can see i couldn't stop myself from writing about last saturday events in amsterdam with mr norris as main star (he was more popular than the king himself lmao). lando is literally what i always bring to the function and yup, enjoy him being the chaotic drunk bestie while max and y/n are his literal party parents. its nothing crazy and without plot basically, i just added sum to this years' koningsdag so yeah, enjoy!

summary: there is nothing that lando loves more than a good party and his beloved dutch friends so imagine him with drink in his cup surrounded by whole orange nation. it could be nuts and it was

warnings: TONS of alcohol, lando being drunk (and hurted), mentions of blood, basically sum chaos

pairing: fem!dutch!bff!reader x lando norris (ft. max verstappen)

Lando couldn't wait for the plane he was on to break through the heavy cloud cover and land in Amsterdam.

China and Miami, which were the next rounds on the calendar, were separated by two weeks that were nothing else, in Lando's case, than a time of stagnation. Add to this the fact that Lando had bad memories of his performance in China and, what's worse, the sprint he failed so badly and which constantly played in his head like a jammed record, one could go crazy. That's why the Brit was extremely happy when he received an invitation to spend the weekend in the capital of the Netherlands. He was invited to Amsterdam to celebrate King Willem's birthday by none other than his favorite flying Dutch.

The friendship of Y/N, Max and Lando began in 2019, practically from the very moment he entered Formula 1. The kid, who was barely 20 years old but looked like 12, immediately won over the Dutch couple with his smile and sense of humor, who, due to their sometimes severe temperament, could not boast of having many friends in the paddock. Even though the three friends were only two years apart, Max and Y/N naturally became Lando's racing parents, with whom the Brit spent practically every moment, from time in the paddock, through celebrating on the podium, to time away from competitions. So it was no surprise when they invited him to spend the weekend together, to which he, of course, eagerly agreed.

When the plane landed, Lando pulled the hood of his orange sweatshirt over his head and slung his backpack over his shoulder, in which he packed everything he might need for the coming days. As you could guess, there wasn't much of it, he actually had everything he needed on him and the most important part was an oversized orange sweatshirt. Waiting for him at the airport was Y/N, who couldn't wait to see him. She didn't have to wait too long, because a moment later he walked out in front of the terminal. Y/N smiled as she saw her friend walking towards her and she hugged him tightly.

"You knew I was coming, you could have asked the king for better weather," Lando joked, trying to sound serious, which only made the girl giggle.

"If you think that the weather will have any influence on what will happen in the evening, then unfortunately I will have to disappoint you," she replied, getting into the car. "It's already starting to get crowded in downtown, and it's not even noon."

Lando threw his backpack into the backseat and got into the passenger side. He smiled like a child, looking forward to how the weekend would unfold. It looked like he would spend a nice few days, able to finally de-stress and relax, and in the company of friends. But speaking of friends, one of them was missing.

"And where's Max?" he asked as they left the airport and were on their way to the girl's apartment. "I thought he had been waiting for me with the welcome committee since yesterday."

"He's already in town, I dropped him off while I was on my way to pick you up."

"He's fast," Lando laughed and shook his head, "I hope he's still on his feet when we get to him."

At that moment, Lando didn't think about the fact that no one else but himself would be able to stay on his feet. When the Brit set off for Amsterdam, he obviously expected to spend two days drunk, with legs sore from dancing and a sore throat from singing, but he forgot that he has absolutely no immunity to alcohol.

When the three friends were finally together, alcohol quickly appeared in their hands. Y/N and Max started with beer, but Lando had no intention of wasting his time drinking something that would only cause pressure on his bladder. As soon as he boarded one of the barges floating on the Herenbracht Canal, he drank several shots at once. Y/N and Max just exchanged glances as he drank the drink standing on Garrix's console in one gulp, who didn't care one bit about it, being already in a good mood himself.

"I'm a little worried about how this might end," Max said in her ear as she took a sip of her cider, watching Lando jump happily.

"Even if he's drunk, so what," she replied, handing him her bottle and taking away the body paints in circulation, "He didn't come here to be bored."

Max was about to say something, but she pushed his hand slightly, bringing the bottle he was holding to his lips. Max shook his head and took a few sips from it, while the girl started painting flags on his cheeks. When she finished, she waved them up, attracting Lando's attention, who understood what she meant and nodded eagerly. The girl squeezed through the console and stood next to him, leaning him against the barge rails, because Lando had trouble not bobbing to the music for a moment.

The smile that never left his face wrinkled his cheeks, on which she tried to paint Dutch flags. When she finished and turned to pass the paints, Lando took off her sunglasses and put them on himself.

"Have a drink with me!" Lando shouted, holding out his empty cup to her, and she raised her cider bottle in response. He rolled his eyes in dissatisfaction when suddenly a bottle of vodka appeared in the crowd and someone handed it straight to his hands. Without much thought, Lando unscrewed the cap and took a few sips as if the contents were water, which of course met with the crowd's approval.

Y/N took the bottle from his hands, fearing not the amount Lando drank, but the relatively short time it took him to do so. However, not wanting to seem boring, she tilted the bottle herself, letting the liquid burn her throat. Delighted, Lando clapped his hands and hugged his friend, causing some of the alcohol to flow down her chin. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist as well, and raised her hand in a toast, which was joined by everyone who had something to drink.

Max also raised his beer bottle a bit. However, somewhere in the background of his mind there was an image of Lando and what he would look like in the near future. However, the Brit himself did not care at all about this. As long as he was in the company of his friends, his plastic cup was full and he could jump to the music and sing along, he was happy. Even the fact that his face was in the wrong place at the wrong time, when someone, completely by accident, punched him in the face, didn't disturb it.

Y/N, who also decided to pick up the pace after drinking her cider, immediately sobered up when she saw blood on her friend's face. She quickly pressed a tissue to his nose, but he tried to assure her that he was fine. His brain didn't encode the impact or the pain, didn't acknowledge that he was bleeding, even when he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood on them. People in the crowd started calling out to each other to see if anyone had a first aid kit. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bandage appeared, and just as Y/N, being drunk, thought it would be a great idea to wrap Lando's face in a bandage, Max started asking people if they somehow had band aids. He couldn't let that dumbass parade around like that for the rest of the evening.

“I've sobered up a bit, I can keep drinking,” he said as Y/N finished clumsily bandaging his face, “I probably look worse that i did when i crashed in Vegas.”

Her friend tried to be serious, but it was impossible to stay serious around Lando. "You have to be careful, Lan," she said, trying to retain some sanity and touching his cheek, looking into his eyes, "I hope it's not broken."

"Bwoken," he repeated in silly voice, giggling "Oh no, it couldn't be bwoken"

"Honestly, i also hope it is not," Max interjected when he managed to rejoin his friends after some time, "Getting to the hospital now would be a near miracle."

"Hey, I'm fine," he said as Max waved the Band-Aids in his face and began to remove the clumsy bandage into which their friend had probably poured her whole heart and a few drinks that she drank earlier.

"I'm glad you don't feel anything, but that doesn't change the fact that I won't look at it," he replied, lifting his chin and examining his nose from every angle. Luckily this one seemed fine.

Once Max had placed two tiny patches on him, Y/N handed him his mug with a fresh drink again. "Brave patient," she smiled at him.

"In a state like this, I'd be surprised if he felt something," Max admitted, taking a bottle of vodka standing nearby. He decided that since Lando had had an accident, nothing worse awaited them and he could allow himself to loosen a bit more. He took a few sips and handed the bottle to the younger one, who smiled, tightening his hand around it. He looked at his friends standing in front of him, slightly drunk but still fully focused on him. He knew he was important to them and that he is not alone in all this madness.

"I love you guys," he said, with a bottle in his hand, pushing himself off the railing and hugging them, "You are the best in the world, simply the best."

The rest of the day and later in the evening took place in a great atmosphere and the party lasted until 3. in the morning. For the rest of Amsterdam it probably lasted longer, but for Lando it began to end after two o'clock, when he was barely able to stand. Partly from being drunk, partly from being tired. He didn't stand still during a single song, so the next day, apart from his face, his legs will certainly be visible. Taking a break for something warm to eat, Max, Y/N, and Lando sat down at one of the wooden tables. While waiting for their orders, Lando rested his head on Y/N's shoulder and closed his eyes. It was obvious that he just needed something to lean on to fall asleep.

"I think it's time for us to go," the girl announced, directing her words to Max. "The baby is only fit for bed now."

"He's been in great shape for a long time anyway, judging by how much he was on his feet today," Max concluded, glancing first at him and then at the girl, "But you're holding up pretty well, aren't you?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded and hugged Lando, who began to slide off her shoulder, "But I'm also getting sleepy."

"Me too," Max rubbed his face with his hands, "At least we can be sure that no one will wake us up first thing in the morning to explore the city."

He said, glancing at Lando, who was dozing with his mouth open on his friend's shoulder. After eating casseroles and fries, which were for Lando and which he was unable to eat, the three of them went to the girl's apartment. Of course, only she and Max were walking on their own, Lando was between them, leaning on their arms. He was muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, so it was obvious that he was alive and everything was fine, besides the fact that he was completely drunk.

When they arrived at the address and crossed the threshold of the apartment, they immediately went to put him in the bedroom, not wasting time in unfolding the couch for him. Max was in the process of stripping him of his shoes, pants, bloody sweatshirt, and all the necklaces and ribbons he had collected the previous day, while Y/N placed a large bottle of water, painkillers, and a bucket by his bed, as if the contents of his stomach had suddenly decided that they wants to get outside. However, there was no indication that Lando was going to have a restless night, because he started snoring softly as soon as his cheek touched the pillow. Max covered him with the blanket and took a few steps away from the bed, standing next to his friend who was looking at the sleeping boy.

"Can you hear that?" Max whispered, glancing at her, and she frowned questioningly, "It's silence, listen to it, because when he gets up, the only thing you can hear will be his lamentations about how hungover he is."

The girl snorted quietly and shook her head, taking Lando's clothes to the laundry.

"The most important thing is that he had a good time. And a little hangover never killed nobody."

The next day, however, did not bring anything unexpected. When Lando woke up, the first thing that hit him was a terrible headache that got worse when he sat down and tried to get out of bed. When he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, Y/N and Max's eyes immediately went towards him and Lando could swear that they looked like they spent the entire last evening on the couch.

"Hi honey, did you sleep well?" Max asked playfully, in the perfect mood for jokes since he himself was fine after last night.

Lando just blinked several times and wanted to wipe his face with his hands and collect some words to answer, but when he touched his cut nose, he cursed loudly.

"What the fuck?"

"A souvenir from yesterday," the girl answered him, getting up from the couch and taking out a frozen package from the fridge, which she handed to him, "I recommend a shower and I'll make you some coffee."

He closed his eyes and put the package to his nose, sighing and grabbing the bathroom door handle. Before he disappeared, Max just shouted after him.

"And don't puke in the shower!"

[girlietips]

Big sister advice school addition 📖🖋️📚

Here is the next installment of my big sister advice for academics.

School is easy if you just do the work you should know everything for the test.

There is no reason (except for literally terrible teaching) that you wouldn’t know the concepts for the test unless you didn’t do all the work assigned to you.

Obviously this doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t study or practice the skills but if you have no clue what could be on the test you didn’t do all the work.

But if you are struggling in the class there is no longer an optional assignment or an extra credit opportunity you aren’t going to do. Always do extra credit anyway because 102% before the final means you can relax for finals week. Plus the teacher will take note and you could probably get a letter of recommendation from them.

Having a predetermined homework time is the best thing you can do

No matter what do homework at that time. If you finished all the homework for the week do next weeks.

Mine were at 7am-9am (I work best first thing)on Monday and Friday and I had to work the entire time so I basically never had to work outside of those times except for studying and reading.

It only benefits you too be ahead.

If you have the ability (some courses are not laid out that way) to get ahead in work you should. Especially if you are given a list of all the assignments before hand.

It gives you the ability to take days off and knowing what the lecture is going to be on before you head in will help if you have a hard time focusing.

Even if it is just skimming the reading right before class it’ll help.

You are allowed to be disappointed in grades (even if they are still good grades)

This past term was the first term in college where I didn’t get a 4.0. I got an A- in chem and I literally was 5points away from an A. (Honestly a B would’ve been less devastating and I’m not being dramatic)

Even tho my gpa is perfectly fine I am allowed to be frustrated with myself because I know that that 5 points was easily attainable I just got lazy towards the end.

Don’t let people tell you you can’t be upset over a slightly low grade. But also don’t beat yourself up about it if you truly tried your hardest and did all you can do. There is a difference between a B where you worked for hours on end did all the assignments but the class is that difficult and a A- in an easy class but you allowed yourself to slack off. (Self call out lol)

But obviously don’t push this standard on other people cuz that’s rude. Even if you wouldn’t be happy with a B if your friend is celebrate celebrate with them. Don’t be a bitch

Be strategic in what classes you skip.

I am not going to be all high and mighty and say I never skip classes or try and tell you to go to every lecture no matter what. I barely showed up to my math class this term. But I still got an A because the class was assignment based and in a subject I can do in my sleep. I did all the homework and showed up for the tests and did great but if you can’t do that with a class don’t act like you can. Pick and choose your battles.

Never skip a class you struggle in!!!!!!

You never know when a teacher is going to say something that makes everything make sense. Or give you the best life hack ever.

Getting all your homework done before the weekend means you can have a social life.

If you want to have a good life/school balance you have to schedule when you complete things.

School should always come first so if you want to party that weekend you better finish everything by Friday.

Also not really school related but if you are gonna be a party girl in college (me too me too) don’t party everyday of the weekend!!!!!

It’s seriously unhealthy to consume alcohol like that consistently and guess what you can get burned out from too much partying just like you can get burned out from too much work. Even hot girls can be functional alcoholics and that’s not cute.

If you are going to make it an every weekend thing make sure it’s only one night. So you still have one day to recover from the party and one day to be productive!!! Obviously there are going to be some weekends (halloweekend) where people go out multiple days in a row and to that I say know your limits and be safe! Please please freshman don’t make halloweekend be the first time you drink!!!!

That’s all I have for school themed advice! Hope you all have great day!

Love you all Xoxo💋

[kittyit]

cfs/disability blog post -__-

finally acclimated enough to become bold enough to talk about it. after getting sepsis and then getting covid for the first time while in the ICU in late 2022, i have developed chronic fatigue syndrome. i don't like that diagnostic title but it is what it is until further discoveries of categorization and naming of specific mechanisms of its causes are made, and it's the most well known term.

there is something wrong in my body. i can tell. I hate the concept of it being "fatigue" - it's inability to recover from exertion. my favorite term is actually from 2015: systemic exertional intolerance disease (SEID). i have the dubious advantage in being able to articulate and understand clearly what's going on because I'm a person who has previously recovered from near-bedridden levels of weakness from a series of life circumstances and choices that left me barely able to stand and walk. once i was out of the circumstances that resulted in this, I recovered slowly but surely. the concept of self-rehab is simple: exercise to near exertion or exertion, eat nourishing foods that allow muscles to rebuild, rest if you're overtired or hurt. continue this cycle. enjoy how it feels to get stronger and the simple joy and fun of being exerted! this worked great for me. it was only getting better.

i was undaunted at recovery after sepsis/COVID because i'd done it before. then, when things were different, i just thought i needed to push through and keep going. this resulted in me acting extremely erratically and being incredibly unwell for a year. then i started taking seriously that something was wrong. and it is wrong, i just can't stress enough that something is wrong in my body.

this is how exercise (exertion) used to go: the exercise starts, there is a wonderful beginning feeling of ecstasy, excitement, followed by a middle feeling of being fully present, fully engaged with the physical activity, then an ending feeling of pleasant exertion (sometimes quite intense!), then the satisfaction of resting, eating, drinking. sore the next day if boundaries were pushed, not if they weren't.

this is how exertion goes now: the exercise starts. there IS a wonderful beginning feeling of excitement. i think one of the worst parts is how it always pretty much feels okay at the beginning, and because i am an optimist (possibly born this way, nothing has ever been able to really stop it), i think i might actually get away with it this time. consider this: a brief and brisk outing to a nice norcal town, maybe 30 minutes total of walking and standing, with rest interspersed, total 1.5 hour outing. the middle feeling of the exertion has changed. there is a sensation that something is wrong, something is off. it's incredibly difficult to not just push through this. but the end is definitely the worst. instead of a pleasant exertion, there is a sudden oncoming rush of emptiness, oncoming illness. where there used to be satisfaction there's just a sensation of doom. sometimes it feels like i'm falling, like literally falling through space while sitting still.

within 8-12 hours, there is a result of something going wrong in the body. some research suggests it's a mitochondrial problem. i don't know. i'm not science-y enough. but it's just fucking crazy. feeling like you do when you wake up and realize you got that flu after all, cognitive functioning sharply declines, shaky, can't focus, lose short-term memory, can't type well on my phone, loss of ability to emotionally regulate, a spike in aphasic issues. my "post exertional malaise" symptoms are mostly cognitive functioning based, i have to go pretty far before i start feeling it physically. which is incredibly frustrating in its own right, to feel the sensation of untapped power in my body. and when i take it too far, i can put myself into a spiral of being fucked up for weeks or months (when i REALLY fuck up and keep going. just finished one of these. months. really months)

it just sucks. i'm constantly trying new things, trying to treat it, trying to improve. i take resting really seriously now but i just can't accept i'll spend the rest of my life like this. there's a few camps in CFS subculture, people who say recovery isn't possible (and often tell anyone aiming for it they're just going to make themselves worse), people who insist recovery is possible (and do not make space for people who have tried everything and nothing worked), and many more ad infinitum.

i right now believe i'm on a slow but linear improvement timeline. a woman once told me her mother had issues like this after sepsis and she felt better 10 (!) years later. it's been 2.5 years for me and i can do more. but how much of "doing more" is just me sacrificing a lot of things in my life i used to be able to to do rest (more cooking, cleaning, etc.) it's humbling. my gf takes care of me in a way that is impossible to articulate my thankfulness for. like she saved me and is the reason i'm alive. she is devoted and caring to the extreme

i am really serious about disability politics and being ok with being disabled. and it feels like (as an ex-christian who will live with genuine serious religious trauma for the rest of my life) that god is always humbling me/punishing me. but this isn't a punishment from god. it's a medical problem. and there are going to be different approaches and medical solutions. and as long as i don't give up i will improve.

i just feel like i need to talk about this. i've been really ashamed because it's a really crazy catch-all diagnosis, and also i do not really engage with the sprawling massive community around it, because like most internet communities focused on mental/physical health issues, they are often hostile to a position of openness and curiousness and also a true desire for improvement in whatever ways are availble/good disability politics

i was definitely in the CFS skeptic group before developing it (which also feels like a punishment from god), and i feel more ashamed of that than almost anything else. not like i was a hater or arguing with anyone online about it, but i had my reservations. and now i understand that there is something fucking wrong in my body, this is not normal. the body is not doing what it's supposed to do. there is a breakdown in the natural order of things. so if you are a skeptic please know i get it. and i am here to tell you that something is happening lmao THIS is not. normal

so basically if you have CFS/long covid/post-viral whatever i believe you. and i hope you believe me too. talking to doctors about this has been the fucking worst and i am a pretty medically stigmatized person to begin with. i believe you. and i also do believe there's hope in many different directions. fucking KIDS are getting it now because of COVID. this administration fucked up a lot of research but other countries are trying. i think we'll have more understanding and approaches within a decade.

i just make meaning of things by writing about them and i'm really tired of guarding this like a secret i don't want anyone to know like so many other things in my life i've now successfully written about and worked through by forming narrative meaning. so this is a first stab at that and thank you for reading

[would-you-punt-them]

Your technology curse is my roman empire.

Honestly, for the past couple of months I've been having more tech problems than usual, and if anyone has an explanation for this I'd love to hear it.

It started last year when my desktop finally stopped working; it would power on, attempt to start up, and then immediately shut itself down again.

I decided to just leave it, because for as long as I can remember it's always kinda done whatever it feels like. Like, I have to unplug it when I go to sleep because it likes to turn itself on in the middle of the night for literally no reason.

I thought maybe if I just left it alone, there was a chance it would eventually decide to wake itself up on its own. But after a while it became pretty clear that this really was the end. I mean, the thing was pretty old and already barely functional, so it was bound to die sooner or later.

I left it at home collecting dust for a couple months until I went back for the holidays. When I got back, I tried it again, and still nothing.

If modern technology had failed, then clearly the only reasonable solution was to tap into what little vestiges of dark power I still possessed to summon its soul back to the material plane in a profane ritual. Also I was super bored and didn't have anything else going on that day and desparately needed something to do.

So, I spent that afternoon using salt to draw out what I imagined a magic circle might look like, put the computer in the centre, covered all the windows and then spent two hours in a dark room pretending to commune with its machine spirit dwelling on the other side or whatever.

I swear to god, two days later the stupid thing turned itself on at like 1 in the morning for the first time in three months. Then the next day the lights in my room stopped working with zero warning.

For some reason ever since then my life has basically operated on the law of equivalent exchange; whenever one thing is miraculously fixed, within 24 hours something else will inexplicably break.

Someone came round to fix the lights, and later that day my electric razor (which was pretty much brand new) randomly stopped working. About a week after that, my night light that hasn't worked in forever magically became functional, while my kettle immediately broke even though it had been fine that same morning.

Just to prove I wasn't going crazy, I went and dug out the oldest thing I could find, my 3DS that's been broken since like 2018, and tried to get it to work, which should be straight up impossible. Except it now works fine, and like clockwork the next morning my toothbrush wouldn't turn on. This shit just keeps happening and I'm not sure what I did to deserve it.

Anyway, my phone has started going on the fritz, so who knows, maybe it'll shut down in a week and bring my fucking Bop-It back to life.

[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

modern au a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: swearing, drinking, mild angst, new character appearance!!, nothing else this is pretty basic A/N: I promised myself I wouldn't leave you guys with the angst for too long (• ᴗ -) BUT that also doesn't mean it's gonna be an easy road from here for our gentle reader (hehe) and our dear Sukuna. also I had literally dreamt about their next interaction and how Sukuna would be acting... thus, sweaty and panicked Sukuna was born.

index part seven | part nine

part eight word count : 4,143

The next two days passed in a blur. You weren’t sure if it was the exponentially horrible hangover you had the morning after everything went down, or if your mind was simply protecting you from a harsher fate. Either way, you functioned on autopilot—work, home, sleep, repeat.  

Even Sukuna seemed to understand something you didn’t—his texts and calls had stopped within twenty-four hours. That silence should have been a relief, but instead, it felt like a hollow weight in your chest.  

By the third day, you were barely holding it together. Work felt like wading through wet cement, your mind constantly drifting despite your best efforts to stay focused. Everything around you seemed to move at normal speed while you felt stuck in place, every noise too loud, every task taking twice as long as it should.  

You kept your head down at your desk, ignoring the buzz of office chatter and the occasional concerned glance from your coworkers. You didn’t want their sympathy, didn’t want their questions. The last thing you needed was to explain why you felt like a walking corpse—why you hadn’t been able to sleep, why food tasted like nothing, why your stomach twisted every time you so much as glanced at your phone.  

The lack of messages from Sukuna should’ve made things easier, but instead, it gnawed at you. He hadn’t tried to reach out again. No texts, no missed calls. Just silence.  

Maybe this was his way of giving you space. Maybe… maybe he had finally decided you weren’t worth the effort.  

That thought made your chest ache in a way you hated to acknowledge.  

“Hey,” a voice broke through your daze, snapping you back to reality. You blinked up to see one of your coworkers—Mai, standing next to your desk with an arched brow. “You good?”  

You forced a tired smile. “Yeah. Just… long week.”  

Mai didn’t look convinced. “It’s Wednesday. You look like hell.”  

“Thanks,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.  

She leaned against your desk, arms crossed. “You’ve been weird the past few days. Not sleeping?”  

You sighed, debating how much to say. “Something like that.”  

Mai studied you for a beat, then shrugged. “Well, if you need to get some air, take a break or something. You’re not gonna get much done in this state.”  

You wanted to argue, but she wasn’t wrong.  

After a few more minutes of staring blankly at your screen, you finally caved and pushed away from your desk, grabbing your coat and stepping outside.  

The cool air hit you like a slap, but it helped—if only a little. You leaned against the wall of your office building, inhaling deeply and trying to shake the exhaustion that had settled into your bones.  

Then, almost out of habit, you reached for your phone.  

No new messages. No missed calls.  

Your chest squeezed. You’d thought maybe—just maybe—he’d break first.  

But he hadn’t.  

And somehow, that hurt more than you’d expected. 

Mai found you outside barely five minutes later, hands shoved into the pockets of her blazer, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Wow,” she said, stopping next to you and leaning against the wall, “you really are spiraling.”  

You let out a slow breath, watching it mist in the cool air. “I’m not spiraling,” you muttered, tucking your phone away before you could refresh your notifications for the hundredth time today. “Just… needed a break.”  

Mai scoffed. “Sure. And I needed a break from the incredible amount of work I’ve been avoiding.” She side-eyed you. “C’mon. I know what heartbreak looks like.”  

You stiffened at the word. “I’m not heartbroken.”  

Mai let out a sharp laugh, tipping her head back against the brick. “Uh-huh. Then why do you look like a walking funeral? And don’t tell me it’s just because of work—I know you, and I know that’s not what’s got you acting like a ghost.”  

You groaned, tilting your head back as if the sky might offer you some relief. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”  

“Yeah? Well, tough shit, ‘cause you look miserable, and I’m not gonna let you drag your sad ass through another eight hours of work looking like you just got hit by a truck.”  

You sighed, giving in because, really, Mai was relentless when she wanted to be. “It’s just…” you hesitated, rubbing your temple. “I had a thing with someone. It got… complicated. And now I don’t know where we stand.”  

Mai hummed, unimpressed. “Lemme guess. Some emotionally unavailable jackass who you thought had a soft side, but surprise—he’s just as messed up as you feared?”  

You groaned. “Not just messed up. He’s…” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “He’s someone with a past. A bad one. And I didn’t know how to deal with it when I found out.”  

Mai studied you for a beat. “So you bailed?”  

Your stomach twisted. “Not exactly. I panicked. I left before I could say something really stupid. And now…” You gestured vaguely at your phone, still sitting in your coat pocket like dead weight. “Now, I don’t know if I should reach out first, or if I just let this whole thing fall apart.”  

Mai clicked her tongue. “Alright, first of all, if he gave a shit, he’d have tried harder by now. No offense.”  

You winced.  

“But,” she continued, “I also know you, and you wouldn’t be this torn up over some random guy. So the real question is… do you still want him?”  

Your breath hitched.  

Did you?  

God, you wished the answer was easy. It would be so much simpler if you could just move on, pretend none of this mattered. But the ache in your chest, the way you still checked your phone, the way his absence felt wrong—it all told you the truth you were too scared to admit.  

Mai must have seen it on your face because she let out a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, okay. That’s what I thought.”  

You frowned. “That obvious?”  

“Painfully.” She shoved off the wall, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeves. “So here’s the deal. You either text him and get it over with, or you stop acting like a lovesick idiot and move on.”  

You swallowed. “And what if I’m scared of what he’ll say?”  

Mai shot you a pointed look. “You should be scared if this guy is as bad as you say he is. But if he’s worth the trouble, then you also have to be brave enough to face him.”  

You exhaled through your nose. “I hate that you’re making sense.”  

Mai grinned. “It’s a gift.”  

She started toward the building, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “You coming?”  

You hesitated, glancing at your phone again. Your fingers itched to type something, to reach out, to bridge the silence. But your heart was still pounding, still uncertain.  

“…Give me a minute,” you murmured.  

Mai raised a brow, but she didn’t push. “Don’t be late,” she said, disappearing back inside.  

You stood there for another long moment, staring down at your phone, the screen still dark and empty.  

Then, finally, with a deep breath—you unlocked it. 

The rest of the workday dragged. No matter how much you tried to focus, your mind kept circling back to the same thoughts—Sukuna, the silence, what you should do next. You hadn’t told Mai whether or not you’d texted him, and she didn’t ask. Maybe she figured you needed time to decide. Or maybe she just assumed you were still being stubborn.  

By the time the day was finally over, you were exhausted—not from work, but from thinking too much. Your nerves felt stretched thin, and the weight of everything was pressing down on you harder than before.  

So when Mai popped up beside your desk as you were gathering your things and said, “C’mon, we’re going out,” you didn’t argue.  

“You’re dragging me out drinking on a weekday?” you asked, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  

“Absolutely,” Mai said without hesitation, already heading toward the door. “You need a break, and I need to watch you embarrass yourself after one too many drinks. It’s a win-win.”  

You rolled your eyes but followed her anyway.  

It wasn’t until you stepped outside and she led you down the familiar path that realization struck.  

“We’re going there?” you asked, stopping in your tracks.  

Mai barely glanced at you, unfazed. “Yeah. What, you suddenly hate our local bar?”  

Your stomach twisted. Our bar. The one right next to your office, the one where you had met Sukuna, where he had been waiting for you almost every night since that first meeting. Where he had always been, drink ready before you even sat down.  

You swallowed. “No, I just—”  

“Relax,” Mai cut you off, sighing dramatically. “If you’re worried about running into him, don’t be. If he shows up, great. If he doesn’t, even better—you’ll be too drunk to care.”  

You narrowed your eyes at her, but she just smirked and tugged you along.  

When you stepped into the dimly lit bar, it felt like something should have changed. Like maybe there should be some visible marker of the days that had passed, something to reflect the shift in your world. But everything looked the same. The same warm glow of the hanging lights, the same faint smell of whiskey and cheap beer, the same bartender who had probably already memorized your usual drink order.  

It was both comforting and disorienting.  

Mai led you to a booth in the corner, a little further away from the bar than you usually sat when Sukuna was here. She slid into the seat across from you, grabbing a menu just for show. “So, what’s it gonna be? Drowning your sorrows or just mild regret?”  

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “I think I’ll ease into it.”  

Mai smirked. “Boring, but fine. First round’s on me.”  

She waved over the bartender, ordering for both of you before leaning back against the seat. You could still feel the weight of the space around you—how familiar it was, how many memories were woven into this place.  

And yet, the one thing you were most used to seeing here was missing.  

You didn’t let your gaze linger on the door. Didn’t check for a familiar figure, didn’t scan the bar for a mop of pink hair and sharp eyes watching you from across the room.  

At least, you tried not to.  

Mai noticed. Of course she did. She sipped her drink, watching you over the rim of the glass. “So. How long are you gonna pretend you’re not hoping he walks in?”  

You froze mid-sip, then slowly set your drink down. “I’m not.”  

Mai arched a brow. “Liar.”  

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I don’t know what I want. I just… being here without him feels weird.”  

Mai hummed, swirling her glass. “Well, you could always change that. But hey, what do I know? I’m just the work friend forcing you to drink on a weekday.”  

You groaned. “You’re so annoying.”  

She grinned. “And yet, here you are.”  

You rolled your eyes but took another sip of your drink. Maybe she was right. Maybe you did need this. To take a step back, to breathe, to let yourself exist in this space without the weight of him pressing down on you.  

You were halfway through your second drink when the air in the bar shifted. It was subtle at first—a prickle at the back of your neck, a tension you could feel before you even saw him. Then Mai’s gaze flickered over your shoulder, her smirk sharpening, and you knew. 

You didn’t have to turn around. 

But you did. 

Sukuna stood just inside the entrance, breath uneven like he’d been moving fast. His usual cocky swagger was missing—his shirt was slightly rumpled, his hair a mess like he’d raked his hands through it a dozen times on the way here. His sharp crimson eyes landed on you instantly, dark with something intense, something unreadable. 

Your heart stuttered. 

You knew why he was here. You’d texted him. 

It had been impulsive—after your conversation with Mai, your fingers had moved before your brain could stop them. Just a single message, short and uncertain: 

"I don’t know if I’m ready to talk, but if you want to find me, I’m here." 

And now, here he was. 

Mai leaned back in her seat, sipping her drink as she watched the scene unfold. “Welp,” she muttered, clearly amused, “that didn’t take long.” 

You swallowed, gripping your glass tightly as Sukuna strode toward you. You expected anger, anticipated frustration, maybe even something bitter. But when he stopped in front of the booth and looked down at you, all you saw was exhaustion. 

“You have any idea how fucking hard you were to find?” he said, voice rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. 

Your breath hitched. “You—” 

“I went to your office first,” he continued, jaw tight, “because I didn’t know if that text meant you actually wanted to see me, or if it was just some half-assed attempt at closure.” His fingers curled at his sides. “And when you weren’t there, I thought maybe you'd changed your mind.” 

A lump formed in your throat. 

Sukuna inhaled sharply, his shoulders rising, before exhaling through his nose. “So, I came here. Because of course you’d be here.” His lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a frown. “This bar is the only place I haven’t fucking ruined for you yet, right?” 

The words stung, because they were a little too close to the truth. 

Mai whistled lowly. “Well. That’s my cue.” She stood up, patting your shoulder. “I’ll be at the bar if you need me. But, uh, I won’t be hovering, because I really don’t want to be in the splash zone for whatever this is.” 

You barely registered her leaving. Your world had narrowed to just you and Sukuna. 

He was still standing, his fingers tapping restlessly against the table like he wasn’t sure whether to sit or keep pacing. You took a deep breath, gesturing to the seat across from you. 

“Sit,” you said, voice quieter than you intended. 

Sukuna hesitated for only a moment before sliding into the booth. He leaned forward, arms braced on the table, eyes locked onto yours like he was searching for something. 

For a long, tense moment, neither of you spoke. The words because of course you’d be here hung heavy in the air between you. 

Finally, he exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, princess,” he muttered, voice lower now, almost tired. “Because I’ve been going out of my fucking mind trying to figure out if you still want me in your life or if I’m just waiting around like a goddamn idiot.” 

Your chest tightened. 

Because despite everything, despite all the frustration, all the history, all the hurt—you did want him in your life. 

You just didn’t know how yet. 

You swallowed hard. “I don’t have all the answers yet, Sukuna.” 

His jaw tensed. “Then just tell me the truth.” His voice dropped, softer, raw. “Do you still want me here?” 

You gripped the edge of your glass, steadying yourself. Then, with a shaky breath, you met his gaze. 

“Yes.” 

Sukuna went still. 

Something unreadable flickered in his expression, his hands curling into fists against the table. Then, after a long pause, he exhaled—like he’d been holding his breath this whole time. 

“Good,” he murmured, his smirk returning, but this time, it was laced with relief. “Because I wasn’t planning on leaving anyway.” 

Sukuna had never looked nervous before. Not once, in all the time you’d known him. He was always sharp, cocky, unreadable—like nothing could ever shake him. But now, sitting across from you in the dim glow of the bar, he looked wrecked. 

His fingers tapped restlessly against his glass, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at you like you might disappear if he blinked too long. And maybe, in some way, he thought you would. 

You had been quiet since he'd sat down. Since he'd told you he had been looking for you. Since he'd made it clear that the second he saw your message, nothing else mattered. 

But none of that changed the reason you had left him behind in the first place. 

You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself. “I know what happened,” you said, your voice quieter than you meant for it to be. “With her.” 

Sukuna stilled. His fingers stopped tapping, his smirk—what little there had been of it—faded entirely. 

For a moment, he didn’t speak. Didn’t even move. 

Then, finally, he exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head like he had already resigned himself to this conversation. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I heard that you did.” 

You felt something tighten in your chest. “That one night, you slept with her.” 

Sukuna’s eyes flickered to yours. He didn’t nod, but he didn’t need to. The answer was there, clear as day. 

“It was nothing,” he said, voice low, rough. “Just a one-time thing.” His fingers curled into a fist on the table. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. Didn’t even realize I had at first.” 

What did that mean? Your fingers curled around your glass, knuckles turning white. “But you did hurt her.” 

Sukuna exhaled heavily, running a hand down his face. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I did.” 

The confession sat heavy between you, like a weight pressing against your ribs. You had tried to prepare yourself for this. You had told yourself you needed the truth, no matter how ugly it was. But hearing it—actually hearing him say it—made something crack inside you. 

“She was in love with you,” you murmured. 

Sukuna scoffed. “She was in love with an idea of me.” 

“Does that make it better?” you shot back, your voice sharper than before. 

His gaze snapped back to you, and for the first time that night, you saw something flash across his face—something that almost looked like shame. 

“No,” he muttered. “It doesn’t.” 

You stared at him, heart pounding. Your emotions were a mess—anger, sadness, confusion, everything tangled into a storm that you couldn’t sort through fast enough. 

Sukuna must have seen it, because he leaned forward, his voice steadier now. “I never did it again,” he said. “Not before. Not after. Just that once.” His fingers drummed against the table. “And I regretted it the second she told me how I’d made her feel.” 

Your stomach twisted, bile rising in your throat. 

“That’s the part no one tells,” he continued, his voice rougher now. “That I did feel like shit. That I knew, the second it dawned on me, that I had fucked up. That she looked at me like I was a monster, and I couldn’t even fucking argue.” 

Your hands trembled. "Did you ever apologize?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

Sukuna’s expression flickered—something complicated, something raw. His jaw clenched, fingers drumming once against the table before he answered. You were scared to hear the answer. 

"I did." 

Your breath caught. 

"I went to her," he continued, voice rough, like the memory itself was something he had to force out. "A while after it happened. She didn’t want to see me. I don’t blame her for that." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "But I needed her to hear it. Even if she didn’t give a shit, even if she hated my guts—I needed her to know I was sorry." 

You swallowed hard. "What did you say?" 

Sukuna stared at his hands for a moment before meeting your eyes. "That I was a fucking idiot. That I hurt her, and I had no excuse for it. That it wasn’t just a mistake—it was a choice, and I made the wrong one." He inhaled, slow and measured. "That she didn’t deserve it. And that if she never wanted to see me again, I’d live with that." 

Your throat tightened. 

"She yelled at me for about an hour" he murmured. "I took every bit of it. In the end, we both agreed that’d we’d made mistakes. And with her being in love with my idiot half-brother, we wouldn’t be able to avoid each other forever – so we settled on just being friends." His fingers curled into a fist against the table. "And that was that." 

You let his words settle, feeling the weight of them press into your chest. It didn’t change what he had done. It didn’t erase it. 

But it meant something. 

You pressed your fingers against your temple, exhaling shakily. "I don’t know how to process this," you admitted. "I don’t know how to sit here and just pretend this isn’t… awful." 

Sukuna nodded once. "I don’t expect you to." 

Silence stretched between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. Your hands trembled slightly as you wrapped them around your glass, grounding yourself in the sensation of condensation against your skin. 

"I should leave," you murmured. Sukuna went still. 

But you didn’t move. Because despite everything screaming at you to run, you weren’t sure if you wanted to. Sukuna didn’t say anything at first. He just watched you, his crimson eyes scanning your face like he was trying to figure out what you were thinking. Maybe even trying to prepare himself for the moment you finally got up and walked away.  

But you didn’t move.  

And maybe that was why, after a long, tense silence, he exhaled and did something you hadn’t expected.  

“There’s something else,” he muttered, voice lower now, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should even be saying it. “Something no one else knows.”  

Your brows furrowed, waiting.  

Sukuna leaned forward slightly, his fingers tracing patterns against the table, his gaze shifting to the side. “After it happened—after I saw the way she looked at me, after I realized what I’d fucking done—I didn’t just sit with it.” He hesitated for only a second before continuing. “I started therapy.”  

You blinked. “You what?”  

His lip curled, like the word itself tasted bitter in his mouth. “You heard me.”  The tone in his voice betrayed his feelings on the matter.

Of all the things you expected him to say, that wasn’t on the list. Sukuna—the man who carried himself like he was untouchable, who acted like the entire world bent around him—had gone to therapy?  

“For how long?” you asked cautiously, unsure of how to process this new piece of information.  

Sukuna let out a low breath. “Still going.”  

Your fingers tightened around your glass. “And no one else knows?”  

“Just Uraume.” His jaw worked slightly. “Not because I’m ashamed of it. I just…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t want it to feel like some kind of performance. Like I was only doing it to prove to people that I changed or some shit.”  

You studied him carefully, trying to pick apart his expression, to see him. This was the most vulnerable you had ever seen Sukuna — the most... human.  

It would have been easier if he had just been a monster. If he had denied everything, if he had refused to take responsibility, if he had been the irredeemable person you had been trying to tell yourself he was for the last few days.  

But instead, he had been quietly carrying this weight. 

“Why are you telling me this now?” you finally asked.  

Sukuna met your gaze, his own unreadable. “Because if I didn’t, you’d always wonder if I really changed. If I’m still that guy.” His fingers drummed against the table once before going still. “And I needed you to know that I never want to be that person again.”  

Something in your chest squeezed. Sukuna had changed. Maybe not entirely, maybe not perfectly, but he wasn’t that same man anymore.  

And now, sitting across from him in the dim glow of the bar where everything started, you weren’t sure what scared you more—accepting that, or figuring out what came next.  

You swallowed, voice softer now. “I don’t know where this leaves us.”  

Sukuna gave a small, humorless smirk. “Me neither.”  

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was still there, thick in the air between you, but it wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t fear.  

Finally, Sukuna sighed, leaning back in his seat. “So,” he muttered, glancing at your nearly empty drink, “you gonna let me buy you another round or what?”  

A slow breath escaped you.  

And for the first time in days, you didn’t feel like running. 

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊

taglist : @mangiswig @sorahatake @osohchoso @clp-84 @sterzin @csolya @emochosoluvr @aldebrana @ravester @marie-is-in-the-dark @makingtimemine

[namfinessed]

Hi i wanna request no. 2 from the prompt game.

"i've wished for you, long before i ever existed, your soul belonged to mine and mine to yours." JK x Reader soulmates

The story revolved around jk finally finding his soulmate but she's married (it is a love marriage, reader and her husband married coz they thought they're one of the glitches who don't have soulmates). Make it angsty pls you can choose how they end

Thank u and i hope u write my request! Have a great day!

prompt: "i've wished for you, long before i ever existed, your soul belonged to mine and mine to yours." for jeon jungkook. (4.1k wc)

requested by anonymous (heyyy sweetie <3, thank you so much for participating, i really really appreciate it and i hope you enjoy this one! also apologies, i got a bit carried away hehe)

drabble masterlist masterlist prompt list!

-

hearts glowed when soulmates met soulmates.

literally.

when a soulmate matched with a soulmate, their hearts lit up, a signal that they've found the one, something so obvious that even the most stubborn people would have to believe.

yours glowed once, a long time ago.

but not anymore.

your toes dug into the warm sand and wriggled, letting the harsh grains massage them and your eyes were bright with hope, despite the weariness that tugged your chest.

it's been twenty years.

you would finally meet.

you tried to ignore your husband, rob, who a few feet away, was setting up a picnic for you, the one who your heart never glowed for but settled for.

you had never told him why you had insisted on coming to a beach-front resort, especially this run-down, barely functioning resort.

"all done," you felt arms wrap around you and you forced a smile on your face, "thank you baby," you kissed his bicep, but your lips wanted to wipe him off, his scent, his touch, his everything, you wanted it off you.

he smiled at you before stepping away to answer a phone call.

you were a horrible person.

no one else in this world would return to a past love in a town they swore to leave behind, especially with the husband they’ve built a life with.

you don't even know if jungkook would still come back, if he had matched with a soulmate or not, if he still remembered but here you were, shamelessly searching for him with your perfect husband right beside you.

but you couldn't forget the warmth that you felt from your heart lighting up.

the waves crashed and growled, the sun was blaring, the beach was warm and humid and your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, you could barely open your eyes and you were probably so close to finding your soulmate again.

"come here, babe!" rob called out to you, and you reluctantly walked over to him, settling yourself on the blanket and eating the fruit you had packed.

and you talked with the supposed love of your life, you talked for a long time, that was the only reason you had married someone other than jungkook, your husband was the second best option.

he was a fail-safe, a safety net you fell back on when you were young.

you were running out of time, every one of your friends had found thier match but you and your husband were the anomalies, the only ones without a particular match and you were in love, so you found yourself married in vegas weeks after meeting him.

but then, you found a photograph that changed your life.

your true soulmate smiled in the photo, a kid, next to you, also a kid, with a message calling to you and that's when you knew, you had to find jungkook before you lost your chance.

and the photo burned in your pocket as your husband poured you wine but you smiled and sipped away.

"aren't we lucky to find each other?" he asked, drunk and in love.

you nodded with a tight smile, "we really are," completely sober, heart empty and dark.

only a couple days now.

you would find your soulmate, you had to.

-

you woke up before the sun way up the next morning, getting ready as soon as you could to run out of the room before your husband could even stir in his slumber.

and you found yourself on the beach again, the sky's only light were streaks running through it and the sun was all but peeking through the clouds.

you knew this was going to be easy, finding jungkook, your actual soulmate after so many years, but you had to try, and if you didn't, well...you had a man sleeping in your bedroom already.

you also got some tools to entertain you during this quest.

a fishing rod, of all things, seemed the most logical and you took it out of its bag with pride, you had haggled for the lowest price possible for this little one.

"let's go," you sang to yourself, preparing the bait and sat on the rough sand, looking up videos on how to fish.

and paused.

fuck.

you didn't have a boat, this had to be some kind of sick joke, you stared down at the shiny rod in your hands with disdain.

but.

you were here searching for someone you met forever ago, you couldn't possibly get more ridiculous than that.

so, you threw the rod, from the shore into the shallow waters and happily hummed, ignoring how you might look to others.

-

jungkook wasn't a man to believe in miracles.

hell, he's never left anything to fate, he's always chased after it, hunted it down and this was no different.

it's been twenty years.

"what the hell?" he whispered to himself, squinting his eyes at the sea which was too far away from him, in utter disbelief of the shit he was seeing.

then, he shook his head.

if finding you meant staring at some crazy woman fishing at the shoreline at the crack of dawn, he would bear it.

but he would find you.

you would remember, right?

you wouldn't forget him, you never could, you would hold him close to his heartbeat, the way he did.

right?

jungkook turned back around to his room with a hand on his chest and a ache developing at his temple, telling his heart to wait, telling his heart it would glow again.

he misses the flicker of light blinking in his chest and so do you at the shore.

only a couple days now.

-

"so, fishing clearly went well," your husband mused at the hoard of wet covers that you took a picture of, and you pouted, "i really tried," he let out a loud laugh before leaning in to kiss your temple.

"it's okay baby, we'll rent a boat next time, then you can properly try, yeah?" though there was no glow, you still felt yourself getting warm at his words, "besides, what were you doing up so early? we could've gone together, i could've taught you," he bumped your shoulder with his but you grew rigid.

you had to tell him, right?

at some point, you had to, he deserved better than a lying and emotionally cheating wife.

and no other time seemed better than right now, when you weren't too far gone, when you could still be honest and when he could still leave you.

"babe, can you sit down for a second?"

"but breakfast time is going to be over soon," he frowned and you held back a smile, of course, while you were in the middle of a life-changing event, he was thinking about breakfast, he still was the man you loved.

"this is important," you watched the second that the thought of breakfast flew from his head, throwing everything away because you had something important to say.

he took your hand in his, and your vision grew blurry.

the words were stuck in your throat.

"is everything okay, baby?"

you couldn't say it, you couldn't bring yourself to voice it out so, you did the next best thing, you shoved the picture from your past into his hands.

and one of his hands stayed on you, the other traced the picture, you felt your stomach bottom out as his eyes reached your baby face, "this is you."

"yes, it is."

"it's that beach out there?" rob looked up at you and you nodded.

you didn't have to say anything else.

the next thing he caught was the faint light shining through your swimming suit...and the boy next to you, with the same light shining from inside his chest.

"you're not an anomaly."

you're not like me.

you swallowed, trying to keep yourself from crying, "i am not," and you watched again, as the realisation dawned on him.

you had a soulmate.

you didn't need to settle for an anomaly.

for him.

his hand on you loosened.

and you felt the world slip under your feet.

but.

his hand tightened again.

-

"how the fuck are you going to find her? you don't even know what she looks like right now," jungkook didn't answer his friend, who was sitting across from him with a scowl on his face.

jimin meant well. he knew he did.

he knew how crazy he might've seemed too, but he couldn't put sanity above his destiny, he didn't mind looking crazy if it meant finding you.

and jimin saw that, clear as day, on his friend's face, that he wasn't going to give up.

jimin sighed, "fine, i'll help," and jungkook looks up at him with widened eyes, jimin had been against this since the day jungkook told him about his adventure.

"but, only for five days, then we're out of here," jimin declared, going back to eating his breakfast and just as jungkook opened his mouth to protest, "if she really is your soulmate, you'll find her by then."

and jungkook couldn't argue, he knew there was no changing jimin's mind so, he settles to people watch.

a kid who ran around with his parents on his tail.

an old woman picking bread up from the station.

a tense couple.

he turns back to jimin, "i'm going to find her, you can leave but i'm not giving up, and that's final."

-

it was a new day, you spent all of yesterday consoling your husband and balming his emotional wounds even dragging him to breakfast before it closed so he could at least be fed and upset, but he took it better than you thought.

"what color was his hair again?" rob glanced around the beach and you snickered, "you don't have to help me, babe," and he shakes his head, "i want to help."

you pause from setting up your sand castle making tools, you didn't deserve this kindness, this grace, this person.

you were an emotional mess these days, tearing up at the drop of a hat was your new hobby but so much of your life could change and you weren't sure if that change was going to be good, you just knew that it was necessary.

"i don't deserve you," you whisper but he catches it, he leans down, taking some tools from your hands and spreading them around, "i love you, you don't have to deserve me for that, you just have to exist."

your fingers dug into the sand until the grains caused abrasions but outwardly, you smiled, kissed his cheek and whispered 'i loved you too.'

he hears the past tense, but he smiles and nods.

these glimpses of who you loved, were more stressful than finding jungkook, because what if you find jungkook and he's not just what you've made up in your head?

what if he's not the sweet boy he was?

what if he never tells you that he loves you?

what if you're giving up on a wonderful person for someone who maybe doesn't even remember you?

what if the whole soulmate system was bullshit?

but until you met jungkook, you had to give the whole situation the benefit of doubt.

"now, let's make some unbreakable sand castles!" you cheer, getting on your knees and patting the wet sand and your husband shakes his head, "this is all you, b- y/n, i'm going to go over there and read my book, you have fun," he ruffles your hair before leaving to relax on a lounge chair.

him holding back on calling you baby, stung you, even if it shouldn't.

you would probably never hear him call you baby again, you would probably never wake up next to him again, you would never know which book he's reading, which food he's eating, who he loves, who he doesn't, nothing, you would know nothing.

you took quick glances at your husband and the beach from time to time, while you tried to make a sand castle, he became a stranger to you the more you kept looking at him and every other man on the beach looked like jungkook.

you did that until the sky turned dark, your skin grew wrinkly and your husband finished his book, and he had to gently lift your defeated body from the sand and take you away.

you wept and apologized the entire night into his shoulder, for not finding jungkook, for being so cruel to your husband, for being so selfish and him being him, he consoled you and hugged you to sleep.

he whispered some reassurance when your tired eyes gave up on crying.

"you're not an anomaly, if you have a soulmate, you should find him and until you do, i'll be there and if you don't..i'll still be there."

-

surfing was next on your list, and just like everything else, you weren't too good at it, and after several trials (and drownings), you sat at the shore with the board at your feet.

"don't beat yourself up, the waves are harsh these days," you heard someone say and when you looked up, your heart beat so fast that maybe, just maybe, the universe somehow guided jungkook right to you.

you took your time to look at their face, their entire face was engulfed by the sunlight so, you put your hand above your head and squinted.

it was a cute guy but he wasn't jungkook.

he didn't have sparkly eyes, he had very beautiful eyes but not the eyes of your soulmate.

damn it.

"thank you," you gave him a small smile, disappointment filling your chest and he nodded, "my name's jimin, i could teach you the basics if you'd like."

then, his phone rang, he politely excused himself to take the call and you heard bits and pieces.

"did you find anything? nothing?...here at the beach...no, no one here...i doubt the resort's bingo game will be the place...well, you go."

and you considered his offer for a moment as he approached you again, you smiled at him before saying, "thank you for the offer jimin, my name's y/n, but i think i'll head back to my husband now."

"no worries, have a good day!" he smiled back and walked away, and you were left by yourself, sopping wet and upset, once again.

you clutch your hand to your heart, it was no longer patient, it was tired, exhausted and in so much pain from being so cold for so long.

you go back to rob that night, he holds you like he always does, he loves you like he always does and you slowly accept that his love was the rest of your life, he was the rest of your life.

and maybe, not today or tomorrow, but maybe someday, you will grow to love him again and forget all about the kid your heart glowed for.

-

"i swear i thought it was her but then she said husband so, guess not," jimin ranted his ear off next to jungkook, who looked through the resort's records with an intensity that made his eyes burn.

jungkook could care less about his friend right now.

he had just lied his head off to get access to the registry of people who checked in and he searched fervently for your name.

maria.

steve.

lacey.

wooshik.

carrie.

rob.

yeri.

but your name wasn't there.

he sighed, closing the book and squinting his eyes shut.

it's been days.

he wants to find you, hug you, light up your heart but every day, jungkook feels himself getting further away from that possibility.

"hey man, it's okay, we'll find her," jimin squeezed his shoulder and jungkook gave him a half-smile, "how can anything be okay right now?"

and jimin puts his hand down, feeling the weight of jungkook's words.

if jungkook didn't find you, he might never have a soulmate, he might never get the chance to love you, cherish you, hold you and he would spend his entire life alone.

jimin gently guided jungkook to the closest restaurant, urging him to feed himself and he stuffs his face, letting himself feel whole somehow.

it's only when jimin drags his plate away that jungkook breaks down in his chair, his hair hovering over his eyes, his tears flooding his cheeks and his loud sobs make jimin go over to his side and hug him.

he felt ridiculous, crying with crab sauce all over his chin but he couldn't stop, he couldn't stop pitying himself for the long and lonely road he might have ahead.

that night, just as they start drifting off to sleep, jungkook makes a decision.

"let's go back tomorrow."

jimin doesn't know what to say, "are you...sure? you're so close."

"i might be close or the furthest away i've ever been."

then, jimin nods, "whatever you want, dude. i'm here."

and when jimin's snores invade the sound around him, jungkook sinks into himself, accepting his solitary lifestyle, accepting that his heart will never glow again.

he dreams of you.

in flickers, like flashes of light, in happiness and pain, an unknown face is all over his dreams but he knows it's you.

-

rob stood a couple feet away, watching you balance yourself on the surf board, by balancing, laying flat on your stomach and floating.

he still felt the need to supervise.

"careful!" he yelled after you as you somehow managed to be unsteady even on your stomach and you wave him off.

he knew how tough the last couple of days were for you, you cried yourself to sleep every day and he knew that he could've been not-so-okay with his situation, but rob also knew that he could never stand in the way of you finding your heart.

it took him time but he knew he had to reunite you with your soulmate and move on with his life, find someone else to love and let you be a pretty memory in his mind.

so, he watched the beach closely for any young man with black hair which, as it turns out...were a lot of men.

then, he heard your scream and his head snapped back to you, flopping your hands as your head went underwater.

it didn't take rob a second to run to you, his heart pounding with every step of his that dug into the sand.

"y/n! y/n!" he yelled, his stomach tightening with enough pressure to snap, and when he finally sees and grabs your hand, he feels himself calm down and when you hang onto him as he pulls you out of the water, he wonder how he'll ever let you go.

he bent down in front of you, "are you okay?" he brushed some drenched hair pieces out of your face and you nodded meekly, rubbing your cheeks, "thank you," you whisper and he sits on his feets, watching you process the situation.

"you saved me," you whisper again, voice breaking and rob doesn't know what to say, he can't tell you he loves you anymore and that it's his duty, he doesn't want that burden on you, "i always will." is what he settles for instead.

you look broken, the days finally showed on your face and he feels your pain for you.

"wait," your eyes fly open, checking your pockets franctically and he bends forward, "what are we looking for?"

"the photograph!" you screech, getting up and running towards the shore, he runs behind you, holding you as you search and when he sees it, stuck to the sand, he simply turns your body towards it and you fall on your knees next to it.

you clutch it to your heart and rob feels the sting of his lightless heart again.

if only he was the one who could glow for you.

but then, you get up, "we should go," and he nods, grabbing the room keys, you shake your head, "we should leave."

he stops in his tracks.

he could have you again.

he could forget this whole thing, live his life with you and not alone, he never felt like an anomaly when he had you.

"are you sure? you're so close." he says, as a courtesy, more than anything.

"or so far, maybe he never came and i'm the stupid one, either way, i want to go," you hand over the photograph to him and though you say it with so much conviction, he sees your hesitance.

"i'm sorry," and he knows what you're sorry for.

if he left now, he would always have only half your heart and half your soul.

"don't be, i told you ill be here," he kissed your cheek.

he would be okay with it.

he wordlessly starts walking away, knowing you were walking with him and tries to reason to himself that this was for the best and he knows you're doing the same.

you were right behind him but you felt like you were on another planet, holding him through some stars that would die soon.

he swallowed the feeling.

then, your foot mangled with your other foot, sending you down to the ground again and before rob turns and lifts you up, another man is bent next to you, helping you to your feet.

he almost rushes over to you but then, the light from your chest starts building, so faintly that he wouldn't have noticed unless he squinted and he looks at the man, his chest was flickering too.

and he stays frozen in time as he watches you two not even notice it, both of you with your minds and eyes far away from each other.

he hears your thank you to the man without meeting his eyes, he sees you look at him and not your soulmate, he can probably get away with it.

but he would only have half of you, you would only be half of you.

so, he walks to over to the both of you, places the photograph in your hands, presses a kiss to your temple and walks away.

maybe he was always meant to only have half of you, he would come to terms with it and until then, he would miss you but for now, he will let you go.

-

your mouth drops open at the photograph and your eyes franctically look at the man beside you, who looks back at you with the round sparkly eyes that you fell in love with.

your soulmate.

your light.

your fate.

"jungkook," you breathed out, and the light from your heart falls on his face, getting brighter by the second and his light falls on you, but you didn't squint, you didn't look away.

he turns the photograph, his childish handwriting stared back at him, his favorite quote from his favorite movie, that he dedicated to you when you were just kids.

"i've wished for you, long before i ever existed, your soul belonged to mine and mine to yours."

you had told him he was dramatic then, but you smiled and blushed at it, you told him to come back to you 20 years later, right here, right where you found each other. it was a joke then but when he became an adult, he knew he was going to make it his reality.

and you were right under his nose, all this time.

he cups your cheek and you melt into his hand, "gotchu," he whispers, laughing soundlessly, blissfully and you're laughing with him, eyes teary and chin shaking.

your hearts burned brighter than the sun.

"i was right!" jimin cheered from somewhere, dropping his and jungkook's bags into the wet sand.

-

the next day, you were back on the beach, rob had left the night before with a proper goodbye and lots of tears. you sat down and told jungkook everything, letting him know he could leave if he felt uncomfortable with someone else loving you while he was gone.

the choice was all up to him.

the sun came strong on your eyes and face and you covered your face, squinting and jungkook lifted an umbrella to shield you from the harsh light as you got back to learning how to fish.

"i love you," he chimes from beside you after you pull out a few plastic bags and you hide your face away from him, "i will love you too." and he nods happily, "can't wait," and you laugh out loud.

he finally pieced together that you were the crazy woman he had been seeing everywhere and nowhere.

and he couldn't call it anything else but a miracle, a destiny, a fate, his soulmate right around him and now, with him.

he stayed glued to your side, when you left the resort, when you got back to your town, when you cooked, when you cleaned, when you cried, when you laughed, your soulmate stayed right beside you, heart gleaming and full.

and your heart stayed alight, a weight of the light fulfilling every wish you asked from the universe.

hearts glowed when soulmates met soulmates.

and you had finally found yours.

-

[peachhcs]

macklin asking only like a week after they see each other again to hang out and they go to the beach or something, something calm and quiet but something they missed

this was actually so so cutie to write :))) adding in more lore about blaire’s relationship with her brothers, so expect that to be a pretty big plot point and the way blaire is the way she is being so closed off and reserved sometimes

au masterlist

mack didn’t really know what too soon was but a little over a week after they saw one another again, they were going to the beach to hang out on one of mack’s days off. he figured the beach was good because they didn’t have to talk if they didn’t want to, but there were always good conversation starters around as people walked by. either way, blaire agreed to going to the beach with him and the brunette couldn’t be more excited.

he saw her in her car when he got there. she quickly waved when he pulled in next to her and the brunette flushed, returning her cute little grin. they met around the back of their cars after climbing out, “hi,” macklin smiled softly.

“hi. i haven’t been to the beach in so long, so i’m glad you suggested this. it’s such nice day,” blaire kicked her back hatch open to grab her beach bag and beach chair.

“i know, i can’t believe how nice it is for october,” he followed her lead down the beach.

“how was your game last night? i saw you guys finally had a win,” blaire glanced back at him and the boy’s face flushed at the idea of her watching his game.

“it was really good actually. our first win of the season, so it felt really nice.”

blaire found them a spot halfway down the beach where there weren’t a lot of people around. the two set their chairs up next to one another. blaire dug into her bag to find her sunscreen. “you want any?” she asked mack.

“i should probably put some on,” he laughed a bit.

“right, you burn so easily,” a giggle slipped past her lips making mack blush. she remembered so many little details about him that he thought she would’ve definitely forgot after two years.

he watched her (not in a creepy way) apply her sunscreen. when she reached her back the boy flushed thinking she was gonna ask him to help get her upper shoulders and he was right because she did, “i can’t reach the awkward middle. can you?”

mack, who tried not letting his nerves show, stepped forward and gently rubbed it into the girl’s skin. it was kind of strange to him being so relaxed around one another after literally not talking or seeing each other for two years, but mack wasn’t complaining. he was actually glad blaire still felt so comfortable around him despite them literally breaking up (and possibly finding their way back to one another.)

“i think i got it all,” the brunette mumbled, dropping his hands back to his sides.

“thank you. want me to get you?” blaire quickly offered.

now rubbing her sunscreen in for her was one thing, but her doing it for him was completely different because mack didn’t know if he’d be able to even function properly when her hands touched his bare skin.

“sure,” he said nonetheless and pulled his shirt off.

the cream was cool against his skin, he squirmed at first, but relaxed the more blaire eased her fingers into the divots of his back.

“so what else has been new with you besides becoming a big shot hockey player?” her tone had a teasing edge to it like how they used to talk to one another when they were 15. it was a good thing she couldn’t see mack’s embarrassing red blush.

“not a lot, i guess. hockey’s been taking up most of time since august,” the boy shrugged lightly.

“yeah, same with figure skating. we have competitions every weekend. when i’m not doing that i’m studying,” the girl agreed.

“you were really good the other day, by the way. i mean you’ve always been good, but..wow. i was impressed,” mack confessed and he wondered if blaire was blushing because she didn’t respond right away.

“thanks, celly. that means a lot,” blaire finally responded, her voice soft.

she moved her hand away from his back and he took that as her cue that she was done. he spun back around, meeting her soft gaze as she handed him the rest of the sunscreen.

“because we’re here you have to play mermaids with me later,” blaire grinned widely and the hockey player laughed.

“okay, deal. i love mermaids,” they shared a laugh and macklin applied the rest of his sunscreen.

for now, the two just sat out on their chairs tanning and people watching. they’d occasionally point out people walking by, but for the most part, they just caught up. the conversation flowed like they never spent any time apart. macklin talked about his year at boston university and blaire told him about her freshman year at santa clara. it sounded like both had really good years.

that feeling macklin’s had since he first saw blaire last week continued growing as the day went on. his chest tightened and exploded each time her eyes lit up when telling him a funny story from freshman year.

it was pretty obvious he’s never been over her. as much as he tried moving on and finding other girls, something always drew him back to blaire like maybe they’d reconnect one day and reconcile whatever happened between them—and surprise, surprise, he was getting that chance. the young rookie was not letting her go this time.

“how are your siblings?” blaire shifted the subject to him, feeling bad she’s done so much talking about her life and hardly asking him about his.

“they’re good. aiden’s playing hockey at boston still. rj’s playing for a little league team and charlie’s doing tennis still,” macklin explained his siblings’ whereabouts.

“i’m glad to hear they’re all doing good. carter and mason are pretty good, too. carter’s finishing high school and mason’s a senior at university of washington,” blaire hummed and macklin could hear the crack in her voice. he always knew she never had a very close relationship with her brothers because of everything that happened with their mom.

“wow, a senior already?” the rookie chuckled.

“tell me about it. he’s moving to ireland once he graduates. he found a crazy good job and he wants to be abroad for awhile,” blaire continued.

“ireland? that’s crazy. good for him.”

“yeah, it is crazy. carter’s pretty sad about it, but he’s gonna do good,” the dirty blonde hummed, her fingers tapping against the armrest of the chair. even though she didn’t say it, mack knew her better than that. he knew she was also sad about it.

“how are you feeling?” he dared to ask.

there was a pause and the boy quickly worried her overstepped by asking. “okay..i guess,” she was vague which mack expected. he wondered if he should push for more, but he didn’t wanna test his luck considering they just started talking again.

blaire kept talking though, “it kind of feels like he’s leaving because he doesn’t wanna be around us anymore though. even though our mom dying was like seven years ago, it still really affects all of us i think. mostly because none of us really processed it right, but i don’t know. mason’s never been the same since. he like hardly wants anything to do with carter and i. me specifically.”

“shit, i’m sorry. that really sucks,” mack sympathized but blaire shrugged. “it’s fine. i can’t really do anything about it. i just try not to think about it.”

a silence fell around them after that discussion. macklin stared out at the beach, suddenly grateful that at least his siblings were somewhat close even and family was still together even though attention got really divided sometimes.

“hey, i think i wanna get in the water now. you up for mermaids?” blaire stood up, clearly trying to break the tension she just created. mack smiled.

“of course,” he grinned and threw his towel off him.

he watched her slip out of her tank top and shorts, his breath hitching when he saw her in nothing but her bikini. he adverted his gaze when she looked back at him, a blush coating his cheeks. “race you?” she smirked.

macklin didn’t even get a chance to respond before she started racing towards the water. he quickly chased after her, some of the other people on the beach giving them a side eye for being so rambunctious. blaire had a pretty big lead and successfully made it into the water before mack could catch her. she dove right in, the cool water feeling good on her warm skin.

mack dove in after her. they came back up at the same time, shaking their wet hair out. “it feels so nice. i miss coming to the beach,” blaire grinned and dipped her head back.

she pushed back so she was floating on her back like a starfish. mack admired her again. the sun was reflecting off the water and onto her skin perfectly that it looked like she was glowing. she hadn’t even changed a bit—still looking like the same girl he fell in love with when they were fifteen.

they played mermaids for a good half hour which just consisted of them splashing one another and diving under the waves. they hurried back up to the beach with pruny skin, grabbing their towels to dry themselves off.

“so what are the chances you could get me tickets to your next home game?” blaire wondered as she squeezed her hair out. mack’s gaze flicked to hers, a look of surprise on his features.

“you wanna come to one of my games?”

“well, yeah. i wanna see you on the big rink with the big guys,” blaire grinned and mack was pretty sure his heart exploded right then and there.

“i can see what i can do, but chances are high,” the boy smiled back.

“good because i really wanna come. i already have an outfit in mind,” she cheesed and there was no way mack wasn’t getting her back.

the two packed up their things for the day and trudged back up towards the parking lot. mack helped blaire load her chain into her car before the two awkwardly stood in the parking lot wondering when their next hang out would be and what this was going to mean for their friendship moving forward.

“this was really fun, thanks for coming,” blaire said first.

“of course. i had a lot of fun too. we should do it again,” he smiled.

“literally just text me, i’m freeish..well, i’ll just tell you when i’m free, but it’s been really good getting to see you again. i’ve missed this,” the girl admitted shyly.

“me too. i’ve missed seeing you. i will definitely text you and let you know about the next game,” he opened his arms for a hug. blaire quickly reciprocated, stepping into his embrace that smelled like sand, salt water, and remnants of sunscreen.

“get back safe,” mack said when they pulled apart. blaire nodded and they finally got back into their cars where mack couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.

[oohnotvery]

Hand To Your Heart (Chapter 2)

Okay, wow wow wow. Thank you all so much for the flood of support for this story! I now have imposter syndrome and am extremely nervous that I won’t do it justice . . . but here we go anyways.

Please enjoy this extremely long, dialogue-heavy chapter!

tagging @today-in-fic

Five Weeks Earlier

Scully

The basement office is so hot, her makeup is melting. Scully has already shed her nylons and suit jacket and wishes there were more she could remove without treating Mulder to a daytime strip show. Over at his desk, the man in question has rolled up his sleeves and yanked down his tie so it dangles askew around his neck. Even from across the room, she can see the sweat beading on his forehead.

She shifts uncomfortably and lifts her hair to fan the back of her neck, wondering when maintenance will be down to fix the broken air conditioning. Every few minutes, she glances up at the basement skylight, the brutal sun somehow scorching even at the bottom of the earth. She imagines what Mulder would think if she climbed on top of her desk to tape up the window. Since when does the temperature hit 100 degrees in May?  

A trickle of sweat slides down her spine and she shudders in disgust. She’s eyeing the skylight for a fourth time when a pencil flies violently across the room, striking one of the filing cabinets. She jumps, turning to glare at Mulder.

He rises to standing and wipes grouchily at his sweaty brow.  

“Let’s get out of here,” he says with a tilt of his head towards the door.

“Where?” she asks with a half-laugh. It’s not even one o’clock. They never cut out this early, not unless they have a flight to catch or monsters to chase.

“To a restaurant, back to our apartments, a movie theater, literally anywhere that has functioning AC,” he says irritably.

She hesitates for just a beat before peeling herself off her chair and grabbing her bag. A triumphant smile flickers across Mulder’s face and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she brushes by him towards the door. Over the years, they’ve reached an unspoken agreement about not using the elevator when they’re trying to sneak out of the building unnoticed. The onset of heatstroke has her feeling particularly grouchy about the possibility of seeing other human beings today, so she heads towards the perpetually vacant stair well, Mulder on her heels.

She swings open the door and startles backwards into Mulder’s chest when she sees a man trotting down the stairs towards them. Mulder pushes in front of her to assess the hold-up.

“Hey, Mulder,” comes a familiar voice. As Scully sidesteps her partner, Special Agent Mike Stephens comes into view. His eyes flit to hers and a wide smile rises to his lips.

“Dana,” he says eagerly, stepping forward as if he’s about to hug her. Her spine stiffens reflexively and Mike takes a step back.  

“Agent Stephens,” she says with a polite smile.

“You cutting out early, Mike?” Mulder asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.  

Agent Stephens laughs easily and shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment, actually. You two headed out on a case?”

Mulder’s eyes catch hers and they nod in unison. “Yep. Just got the call.”

Placing a palm to her lower back, Mulder starts to usher them down the stairs towards the parking garage, but Mike catches her wrist and she jolts to a halt.

His eyes flicker quickly to Mulder’s before landing on her face. “You’ll call me?” he says. “About . . . the thing?”

Instinctively, her eyes flit to Mulder, who is watching her with an inscrutable expression.

With flaming cheeks, she shakes her head. “You’ll have to excuse us, Agent Stephens,” she says brusquely, catching Mulder’s arm and tugging him down the stairs with her. She barely registers the flash of disappointment on Mike’s face.

In the parking garage, she and Mulder argue briefly over their next move—she’s envisioning a cool, dark movie theater; he wants food and a cold drink. When he finally suggests a place near the river that serves salads and margaritas alongside his mainstays of hamburgers and French fries, she concedes.

She’s nearly finished with her first margarita by the time she finally starts to cool down. They’re seated at an indoor/outdoor patio and the breeze off the river, combined with the AC pumping inside the restaurant, feels like heaven on her hot cheeks.

Scanning the river for boaters, she swipes at Mulder’s basket of fries for the fifth time and ignores his warning look.

“Stop ordering salads if you’re just going to eat my food,” he grumbles, reaching over to toss a crouton in her face.

She wrinkles her nose, munching happily around his fry. “Calories don’t count when it’s not your food,” she preaches.

He rolls his eyes and stabs a finger at her salad. “You dug your own grave, Dana Scully, now lie in it.”

The little sister in her wants to stick her tongue out, but she resists the urge, settling instead for a dark glare and a petulant stab at her lettuce.

“So,” Mulder says after a time, leaning back and stretching his arm over the back of his chair, “what thing did Mike want you to call him about?”

She crinkles her nose and squints up at the sun like she isn’t sure what he’s talking about. “Agent Stephens?” she asks casually.

Mulder’s lips twitch at her uneasy deflection and her stomach twists. He’s a profiler, for God’s sake. She can’t hide anything from him.

“Give it up, Scully,” he prods, a wicked gleam rising in his eyes. “There’s a dirty little secret between you and Mike Stephens, and I’m going to get it out of you.”

Her eyebrows rise in challenge. “Is that so? What are you, some kind of FBI agent?”

He scowls. “Har, har. Have your fun now, because in five minutes, I guarantee you’ll be sharing all your mysteries with me.”

She pretends to consider this, swirling a finger in her drink. “And what kind of interrogation techniques should I expect from you, Agent . . . ?” she asks teasingly, smiling to herself.

But she should know by now that he gives as good as he gets. Mulder leans forward, a wolfish grin rising to his pouty lips. “You know, Scully, if you wanted me to tie you up and flog you ‘til you’re begging for mercy, you could always just ask.” He winks and she flushes ten shades of red.

Needing a distraction, she again reaches for his fries, but he slaps her hand away. Indignant, her mouth falls open.

“No, no, no,” he taunts with a wagging finger, “no fries for you until you spill.”

She groans. “Oh, come on, Mulder, it’s nothing.”

“The fact that you refuse to tell me means it’s not nothing.”

“It’s nothing,” she doubles down, praying to God that Mulder doesn’t actually try to wrestle this out of her. She can feel her cheeks darkening just imagining what he’ll think if he finds out what Mike wants.

There’s a short pause where Mulder takes a long swig of his margarita, then he leans across the table and fixes her with attentive eyes. He pops the drink’s swizzle stick into his mouth and swirls it around with his tongue, and her flush deepens. Goddammit, that tongue.

His eyes widen gleefully. “Dana Katherine Scully,” he says incredulously, “are you actually blushing?”

Her eyes narrow. “Drop it,” she warns.

He leans even closer, chewing temptingly on the stick. “Come on,” he says, seeming to consider something. “If you tell me what Mike wants from you, I’ll do all our requisition paperwork for the next month.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Backing down from your hardball interrogation scheme so quickly, Agent Mulder?” she taunts.

He smiles deviously. “I’ve got handcuffs in the back of my car with your name on them, Agent Scully.”

She rolls her eyes. “Technically, Mulder, since you’re the one in charge of requisitioning our vehicles, you should always be doing that paperwork—”

“And I’ll do the expense reports,” he adds with a smirk.

Now that is tempting. She spends hours of her time filling out their damned expense reports, trying to make excuses for the ridiculous things Mulder tries to get the government to cover. But is it tempting enough to risk the humiliation that will surely follow her disclosure?

Clearing her throat, she fixes him with a no-nonsense stare. “You cannot tell anyone.”

He scoffs. “Who the hell would I tell? The fish?”

She licks her lips and leans closer, their fingertips touching across the table. “Please just—please keep this private.”

He nods solemnly, and she knows he will.

Shifting nervously, she drums her fingers against the table. “Do you remember when Agent Stephens and I worked that emergency call a few days ago with the drug enforcement team? The night Skinner made you fly to Huntsville for that hearing?”

Another nod.

“We—well, the team went out to breakfast the next morning. We’d been up all night, and we were able to successfully subdue the perpetrators—”

Mulder makes an impatient gesture with his hands. “Yeah, yeah. Get to the juicy stuff already.”

She glares at him. “Well, at breakfast, Agent Stephens was friendly with me.”

She can tell Mulder is fighting back a smile and it irks her. “Go on,” he says.

“He, uh, he showed me a lot of . . . attention.”

“That’s it, Scully,” he says, rubbing his palms together eagerly. “Now we’re getting to the good stuff.” She kicks his shin under the table and he shoots her a wounded look.

“Anyways,” she continues primly, “it wasn’t necessarily unwelcome attention. He’s attractive and smart, and we worked well together that night.”

There’s a minute change in Mulder’s expression, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of moment, but still he nods. “All fair points.”

She studies her partner quietly, trying to break through the now-neutral expression on his face. What is he thinking? What will he think? She drops her gaze to her drink.

“And that’s all, really,” she says with a shrug.

Mulder’s finger comes into her vision when he taps at her wrist. “That’s not all, Scully,” he says. “What did he want? Please tell me it was something freaky or extremely embarrassing.” When she doesn’t respond, he huffs. “Hell, just tell me, Scully. You know my mind is already beginning to conjure far more indecent scenarios than what’s actually going on.”

“Your mind is a shocking place,” she murmurs, deflecting.

“Tell me.”  

She lifts her eyes to his and is surprised to find genuine curiosity reflected at her. He isn’t just looking for an entertaining story. He wants to know about her life.

She hesitates briefly, then shakes her head in defeat. “Agent Stephens asked if I wanted to have a relationship with him.”  

He chuckles and flexes his fingers. “He asked you to go steady? Wow, you really worked me up for nothing, Scully, damn.”

She bites her lip. “No, he didn’t want to date me,” she corrects. “He asked if I’d be amenable to a . . . casual relationship.”

Mulder cocks his head in confusion.

She huffs aggravatedly. “Sex,” she adds, refusing to drop her gaze even as her cheeks burn. “He asked if I’d be interested in having casual, no-strings-attached sex with him on a regular basis.”

Mulder’s mouth drops open and the swizzle stick falls from his lips. She rolls her eyes heavily and takes a long swig of her drink.

“See, Mulder?” she says, stabbing a finger at his gaping mouth. “You’re already acting like a teenage boy.”

“He wanted to be friends with benefits, Scully?” Mulder’s eyebrows rise. “Go, Mike Stephens, go.”

“Really, Mulder?”

He waggles his eyebrows mischievously. “I dunno, that sounds pretty hot.”

“Well, I told him I’d think about it,” she replies archly, even though it’s not entirely true.

His eyes narrow. “You didn’t tell him no?”

“That’s what he was trying to ask me on the stairs—whether or not I wanted to pursue that type of relationship with him.”

Mulder studies her for a long minute, then reclines back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully. She waits for him to ask more questions, or perhaps tease her, but he simply fades into silence. Their waiter returns and they each order another drink. When their second round appears, Mulder downs half of his beer in one long gulp, then reaches out to tap at her wrist.

“Is that something you’d consider?” he asks.

She tilts her head, debating whether to continue picking at her wilting lettuce. “Hmm?”

“Being friends with benefits?”

Her eyes snap up to his. “Not with him,” she says dismissively, because it’s really no question. “I barely know him. We aren’t even friends, technically.”

“But if there was a friend?” Mulder asks, drumming his fingers lightly against her skin.

She shrugs. “Possibly? I haven’t thought about it much. It’s not unappealing, I suppose. I could see how it might be nice if one didn’t want to be in a committed relationship.” She takes a sip of her drink and winces at its sourness. This one is definitely stronger than the last round.

“It’s hard to date in our profession,” Mulder observes.

She nods, skimming the rim of her drink with a finger to collect the salt. “It can be.”

“It’s lonely.”

“Hmm?” she asks distractedly, sucking salt off her thumb. “Yeah, that’s what Agent Stephens said too.”

“Oh, did he,” Mulder remarks.

She slides her finger along the rim of her glass for another lick of salt but Mulder bats her hand away. Affronted, she glares at him.

“Stop doing that,” he mutters, “it’s distracting.”

She narrows her eyes. “Distracting from what? We’re not exactly having a serious conversation here, Mulder.”

He rankles. “It is serious, though. You’re debating getting your jollies off with Mike Stephens, a person you hardly know.”

Her eyebrows rise. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve made it quite clear that I will not accept his offer.”

“You won’t because it’s Mike Stephens making the offer?” he clarifies, his eyes darting between hers. “Because you don’t know him well, right? Or trust him.” He hesitates. “But you do acknowledge that our jobs are stressful and isolating, and you aren’t opposed to the idea of such an arrangement.”

She sucks in a breath and blows it out steadily. “I—I don’t know? Mulder, do you want me to call him right now and get it over with already?”

He grins, showing his teeth. “I can’t say it wouldn’t be fun to bear witness to his crushing disappointment upon learning that he won’t be getting the Agent Scully in his bed.”

She reaches across the table and flings a fry in his face.

Mulder ducks, then leans back in his chair and crosses his arms behind his head. She’s gazing out towards the river, debating whether or not she should order a third drink, when his voice breaks her concentration.

“We could do it.”

It’s so casual, she almost misses it.

“What?” she asks, her eyes turning back to his.

He gestures between them. “You and me. Friends with benefits.”

This time, it’s her jaw that drops. He leans forward again, all his earlier jesting gone, replaced now with a restless energy that makes her squirm in her seat.

“Oh, come on, Scully. Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.”

Her eyebrows fly to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t act like some pearl-clutching virgin. I’m a good-looking guy, you’re a good-looking gal. You’ve acknowledged that our jobs don’t allow us to date, not in any meaningful way. Neither of us is having regular sex—”

“Mulder,” she hisses.

He ignores her. “Plus, you know me better than Mike Stephens, and you considered doing it with him.”

“I did not consider doing it with him,” she snaps.

His eyes fix her in place. “You said it could be a possibility.”

She gapes, then slowly shakes her head. “Mulder, this is so far beyond the bounds of professionalism—”

He slams his fist onto the table and she jumps, her margarita spilling out over the sides. “Professionalism, Scully? Really? You’re going to fly that flag right now?” He shakes his head, scowling. She finds herself extremely confused by his sudden irritability.

“Are you messing with me, Mulder?” she asks carefully, taking a napkin to the sides of her drink.

He is quiet for a long minute, his eyes fixated on her clean-up efforts. She’s about to ask him again when he finally looks up at her.

“I’m dead serious, Scully,” he says. “If you wanted to try an arrangement like that, do it with me, not with Mike Stephens. At least I’m someone you actually know, and presumably like.”

“But it wasn’t ever my idea—”

“Is it a bad idea?” he counters.

She sputters out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s a—it’s the worst idea—”

“Mike Stephens is the worst idea—”

“Stop making this about Agent Stephens, Mulder!” she shouts, and Mulder’s face falls. She gives him a long, hard look. “Just—just give me a moment to think.”

He nods and her mind instantly flashes to a hundred different images, things she’s fantasized about for years but has never allowed herself to imagine as real possibilities. His strong, masculine hands sliding across her bare skin, his lips dragging wetly down her neck, his toned, lean abdomen rippling as he picks her up and throws her onto the bed. She sees herself lying before him, pale and naked and flushed, as he presses kisses from her forehead to her toes. She imagines clutching his tanned, muscular forearms as she comes with his fingers inside her—

“Are you picturing me naked, Scully?” Mulder asks coyly, and she curses under her breath as a flush races down her neck and chest.

“No,” she mutters angrily, but his eyes are gleaming and she knows she’s lost this battle. He sees right through her; he always has. As tempting as this arrangement is, his ability to read her like a book is what makes it so dangerous. What happens when he figures out she’s in love with him? What happens when sex stops being gratifying for her, and she decides she needs more from him?

“This could break us, Mulder,” she says weakly as his eyes rake over her own body. God, is he picturing her naked? “Before we get impulsive, we should pause to consider how this could compromise our working relationship.”

“Is it really that impulsive?”

She blinks, stupefied. “Given that this is the first time we’ve ever thought about it—”

“I’ve thought about it dozens of times,” he breathes, fixing her with a hungry look. “Hell, hundreds of times, probably.”

She swallows. “You’ve thought about . . . us?”

“You’re gorgeous, Scully,” he says, his eyes turning briefly warm. “I may be a madman, but I’m not so cracked that I haven’t noticed how beautiful you are.”

She shuts her eyes and her brain immediately bombards her with an image—Mulder in a shitty, dirty, nameless motel room, his fist wrapped tightly around his cock, his eyes closed in ecstasy as he comes with her name on his lips.

“And it’s just sex,” he says, breaking her concentration. Her eyes flutter open. “It’s just body parts moving around. I’m not asking you to marry me or even date me.” He flashes a wide grin. “I’m not that crazy.”

“Yes, you are,” she mumbles under her breath, lifting her drink and finding that her hands are trembling.

Mulder seems to notice too because he reaches forward and catches her wrist, setting her drink down before pulling her hand into his.

“Try it with me, Scully,” he murmurs enticingly, his eyes slightly feral. “See if we like it.”

“I haven’t said yes—”

“But you’re thinking about it,” he says, his fingertip sliding up her arm, drawing goosebumps in its path.

“No, I’m not,” she lies.

He smiles knowingly. “Your body says otherwise.”

Her eyes flutter up to his as warmth begins to pool treacherously in her core. This cannot be happening. Fox Mulder cannot seriously be asking her to sleep with him. It’s too—it’s too—

“Scully?” he prods gently, and behind the hunger in his gaze, she sees affection. Warmth. Tenderness.

Jesus Christ. He really does want this.

When she speaks, her voice is shaky, but firm.

“We might hurt each other,” she whispers, her final protest.

He frowns, squeezing her fingers. “Never, Scully. I would never hurt you.”

“You can’t promise—” She swallows. Her veins pound with arousal, excitement. Adrenaline starts to shut down the rational side of her brain.

“Okay,” she finally says, looking down at their joined hands.

His lips curl into a satisfied smile and he pushes his basket of fries towards her. “Good girl. Now eat your fries.”

[inkwell-passion]

When Time Stands Still

Time slows to a halt, just like I wished. Finally, I can work all I want, my needs and bodily functions frozen with everyone else. I sit down to research my next subject, to better explain the technology within my world.

It's unbearably dull, and I'm not sure why. Right before I wished it was the most enthralling thing, but now it feels like I could be doing better things with my time. so I get up, grab my phone, and go walking.

The walk is quiet…eerily silent, I stop in at the library and try to find a book that interests me, I literally have all the time in the world, so why does none of these interest me? I wish I could explain it, or at least talk with someone about it. They'd never believe me, "What do you mean that you had no desire to do anything when you had all the time?", They'd ask.

The Library didn't help, and walking through the forest feels wrong, so I head back to my room. I reopen my draft of a story and sit, watching it for a bit as if expecting it to write itself, but it never does, obviously. I reread the last chapter time and time again, trying to gather up the motivation in order to continue writing, but it comes oh so slowly.

Eventually I am able to write down a good 500 words, before tabbing to something else, a single-player game that keeps my interest for a few hours in the past, but before I can even press play, I feel a pit in my stomach. I get back up and head down to kitchen, making myself a cup of coffee out of a desire to taste something, not because I really needed it.

The coffee tastes….wrong, not bad, but it doesn't hit quite right. Did I use the wrong roast? Maybe I should look into that.

A week passes, and I still haven't gotten much work done, another 200 words here, 50 words there, it's agonizingly slow to find motivation and inspiration, my room has practically become a prison due to my best efforts to get myself to write.

In that week I've done several small things, learned more about the roasting process for coffee, picked up a good 20 new books that I may never read, even started to learn how to draw. I'm not very good at it, but hey, it's something.

Before I know it, 3 months have passed without any contact with anyone else, my book got a few new chapters in it, I've finally done that technology post for the fictional world I'm working on. Everything just feels dull. I have all the time in the world, yet I'm barely getting anything done. It's infuriating.

Maybe having too much time, is just the same as having too little. Maybe whatever higher power granted my wish wanted me to learn a lesson.

Maybe I'm just broken.

[cookinguptales]

ooooh love that 4 am chronic illness venting

sometimes I think the worst part about having a chronic illness is accepting that, in many ways, it will never be as good as it is now. I can be in awful pain, I can be exhausted, I can be barely functional at work and I still know things are only going to get worse. like. god. if I'm this bad at 34 how the fuck am I going to be when I'm 50?

I couldn't even get through one film festival. my hormones have been acting up since I got back to Philly, probably brought on by all the travel and stress about work, and I spent a solid two weeks with my ribs and hips dislocating and the first three days at the festival were just me being in so much pain that I would go to the restroom and cry between movies.

that's what having a good time apparently looks like these days!

and then my ribs start calming down just in time for a heat wave. 85 degrees. god knows I can't go out in that anymore, because this body can't do fucking anything right. okay, fine, whatever. then my period finally comes a week early, seems about par for the course with whatever the fuck is going on this month, and the endometriosis is so bad that I could barely get out of bed yesterday, much less make it to center city.

so in the end, I have so far made it to 4 of the 10 days of the festival, and I don't have much hope about the last two. I have to come to terms with the fact, now, that maybe I can't even handle film festivals anymore. I can't handle going into the city and sitting in a dark room for a week now???

I feel like I've wasted all this money on something I was really excited about, because I used to really love going to the film festival. but have we devolved to the point where I can't even do this anymore?

like I know that this month is irregular, for several reasons, but I can never depend on a month to be regular anymore! I can't plan a trip three months in advance because I don't even know how I'm going to be three days in advance anymore! do I just give up on making plans in the future? do I give up on looking forward to fucking anything anymore?

and I know that the mood swings are part and parcel of having pmdd (I had ~three~ panic attacks yesterday) but also like. god. at a certain point how can you handle balancing work and trying to have fun while your rib is literally sticking out of your fucking back. you can feel it! when you touch! my back!

and at what point does a mental breakdown become inevitable, dealing with that kind of pain? when you're also dealing with about five different work deadlines and you still want to make art but you have no time for it and when you finally have time, nothing you write is any good.

all that and I'm supposed to have fun, too? I feel like every time I carve out the least little bit of fun for myself this october, the month I am supposed to enjoy the most, I spend the next three days paying for it.

I feel like I just. I'm at the point now where I physically cannot leave the house ten days in a row anymore. I can barely handle three days in a row. I'm not even doing anything. I'm just sitting there, but apparently the act of taking a bus to a building and sitting in that building is too much for me now.

I know I've been kind of irritating to be around for the past few weeks, but I am just exhausted. and today I'm finally clearing the joint pain, I'm finally clearing the nausea and inability to eat (which of course makes me sicker), and I'm just. I'm so fucking tired. I can't even enjoy not being in (as much) pain for a few days.

and of course trying to scrape all this together, I haven't been able to clean the house, so it looks like shit and I feel like shit about that, too.

I don't know. some days when you have an incurable illness that you know is just going to get worse over time it's just. I don't know. it's hard to have any hope at all. I feel like I'm going to die alone in a filthy house because I don't have the energy to be a real person anymore.

like I go visit my parents and I'm always so glad to get home because I love them but I also need my space but there's always that realization that like. oh right, living alone is really fucking hard. some days I can barely even feed myself. I feel so useless.

I know that withdrawing from my friends is probably the opposite of what I should be doing right now, but it's also. I don't know, sometimes I feel almost ashamed to let them see me when I can't even pretend that I have my life together. like usually I can at least pretend that my body isn't weighing me down too much. letting people see me when it's very, very clear that I am hanging on by a thread feels far too vulnerable.

I guess some piece of me feels like if I let people see the awful underbelly of what it's like to actually be disabled, they'll be disgusted with me. like. sometimes disability is just we have to walk a little more slowly at the museum or I can only eat certain foods when we go out or I get way too chatty because I'm exhausted and I lose my filter when I'm exhausted. but sometimes disability is not showering for a week and a living room that's covered in garbage and unpacked suitcases and sitting in your bed and crying for hours. like. there's nothing glamorous about it.

I feel like I have to work so hard and pretend so much to even reach "tolerable" to other people but I'm not even tolerable to myself right now. even on my best days, when I can go out and hang out with people and pretend that I'm okay, I know that I will be going home to a messy house that I will never invite people to because it's embarrassing to admit that I live like that, not because I want to, but because I have to.

but I can't even do that anymore, I can't even go out for a few hours and pretend that I'm normal and well-adjusted and not at all a burden to my friends and my family and my community.

I don't know. I don't know. I'll be okay. I always end up okay. but I feel like having a chronic illness means mourning a thousand different opportunities you had to give up because you were home puking or whatever, and right now I'm mourning a film festival.

or at least the me that could go to film festivals.

[andromedaexists]

I've had a lot of friends reach out to me the past couple days and I just don't have the spoons to respond to all of y'all so I'm gonna say what I need to here:

I love you and appreciate you all. Your condolences and well wishes were received and mean a lot to me.

Now, for those who are not in the loop, I would like to take a moment to tell you about why I haven't been around for a hot minute despite really trying my best to be (under the cut, because good lord are there a lot of heavy topics on the table such as pet loss, depression, mental and physical health and the degradation thereof, stress and anxiety and more)

So, just in a brief bullet point recap, since about july of this years I have:

been switched onto a project at work that put increasingly more important responsibilities on my shoulders despite me saying that i never want to be in that position again

been switched back to my normal project in the middle of a hierarchy shift, therefore not knowing who to contact for literally anything (we're still working this out, btw)

started my final semester of college with 4 classes (reading & translating dead language #1, reading & translating dead language #2, novels in dead language #1, and the history of my native tongue that requires reading in the dead ancient form of it)

found myself being forced into monthly outings with my mother (a test in repairing our relationship that is going... okay)

somehow became integral in a discord (not upset, just not sure how i ended up here frfr)

being told on the first day of classes that i am having surgery ASAP on a cyst (we all know my history with cysts here.. it's not pretty)

the absolute atrocity that blue ridge ended up being. that was supposed to be my relax time, my time to unwind from everything else and i still have not recovered my loss of sleep from being up for 40 hours straight because of how horrible that weekend was

had my surgery cancelled because i'm too fat and then being ghosted by the doctor

had my heart absolutely demolished by a guy I thought I could love, only to be reminded that love is a luxury not afforded to people like me

broke up with my primary care physician because my health is degrading so fucking bad that i literally woke up feeling like i broke my wrist just because. and he still won't take me seriously. i can barely walk at this point, let alone stay awake and functioning longer than 4 hours at a time

had my employee review (that actually went well, but i did get my ass chewed out for low production)

had the world fall apart around me as any hope i had for humanity is shattered

release my book 3 days later because it was too late to change the release day by then

bury myself in a depression hole that i'm learning is normal for authors after their book releases

have to move my grandma into assisted living/memory care

have to immediately move myself out of my apartment with a weeks notice because the stress of living next to violent neighbors was finally getting to me (triggered my past with domestic violence) AND they started harassing me

had to undergo a medical procedure because i can't even eat food without my body rebelling

missed a month of classes because of depression

failed 2 latin tests in a row followed by bombing the midterm which was... great of my mental health especially considering i haven't received anything lower than a B or a C on an exam since ever (i was an honor roll/4.0/gifted studies kid)

Failed a History of the English Language exam because i cannot code switch between German, Latin, and English quickly enough (those are the 3 that comprise middle english btw)

a week after moving into my grandma's house I almost burned it down

found out that someone I really respected and looked up to as a friend was a Zionist

and finally: on Saturday I had to put down the cat I have owned for 15 years. She's undoubtedly older than that, but I was her owner for 15 years. She was my first ESA. I was able to tell my prof I wouldn't be in for the SECOND LATIN MIDTERM on monday because of it so now i have to take it tomorrow, but i couldn't get out of the greek exam or work. I asked for one (1) day off work and was told that my cat dying was not sufficient enough reason for the time off without using PTO (that i don't have because I used it on the absolutely horrible weekend that was Blue Ridge)

So yeah. I haven't been around. I've been more around on twitter but that's mostly me just reposting a bunch of posts about Palestine rn and other posts that my friends make. I'm so fucking exhausted and nauseous and just done. I haven't really written anything either because my work up until now has shown both the horrors of humanity and the underlying hope but I do not have that hope anymore and it hurts

Ironically since I've started working on Desecrate I've started wondering if this is my punishment for straying from God all those years ago. I don't think so but not I gotta add re-working through my religious trauma and my Catholic Guilt to my never ending list of things to do.

If you read this whole thing, kudos to you. I appreciate you all and I'm sorry for dumping it but I have not been able to really say anything about what's going on in my life because i just.. idk I don't have the words for it most days. I'm just tired.

[onecooooooolcat]

i feel like my pmdd is non existent this month? i can literally squish my whole boob n there's no pain usually i can barely touch them which is the biggest indicator of the hell days. also i wldnt say im particularly depressed genuinely im pretty i wldnt say optimistic per se but im very chill abt life? i mean ik sometimes not every month you'll have symptoms n im glad this month is my break bc truly i dont think i wldve been able to efficiently function to work on my final garments n i wldve gotten super stressed etc but rn im really just straight up vibing n chill. usually even when the mental isnt at its worst the boobs still hurt which js the most unbelievable part but im hoping nothing chnages next week when im back out to uni oof i mean i expect some negative mental health but i hope pmdd doesnt flare up or whatever