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tame-the-lion-writes · 2 days

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tomboy reader x 141 - shopping

(Light warning for reader being self-conscious and insecure about her femininity.)

For the longest time, the boys of 141 don't see their tomboy teammate as a "girl." Not maliciously, of course, but it simply doesn't cross their mind.

It's not that you aren't pretty, but they're so conditioned to see you as "another one of the guys" that they don't spare a passing glance. You don't exactly dress up, either, and they haven't seen you in a skirt or dress. Nor do you have the most feminine interests--at least not that they know of--because their time with you is spent shooting at enemies, covered in blood, and kicking up dust. In short, the usual masculine tendency to see women as precious or dainty doesn't kick in. Because you're anything but.

Because you're a soldier.

In a way, you've grown to love it and hate it. The feminist side of you craves that respect and treatment as an equal. The other side of you, however, whatever the label may be, craves the idea of being wanted. You want to dress up nice and be small and cute. You want to wear heels and fluttery skirts and bows. You want to feel so sweet and sugary, that you could curl up in the palm of someone's hand--not afraid to be vulnerable and adoring and soft. Because you'd trust that person to still love and care for you, no matter how weak you allow yourself to be.

You never bring it up, though. At least not until Price asks if you have anything to wear to some fancy event, where you're stuck with a good old dress code.

"Yeaah... about that," you say with a sheepish smile. "Might have to get time off base to find something, sir. Don't think the pantsuit from my friend's wedding is gonna cut it."

"You don't got a dress? Not even one?"

"Was never the most comfortable in 'em, sir. Besides, I'm saving up for a house," you shrug. "I'm not out to buy some thousand dollar getup or jewelry." (And therein, beneath, lay the denial that if you didn't try to look feminine, you wouldn't look ridiculous doing so--imitating something you could never be.)

"Ooh, we should go shopping," Soap suggests with grin, leaning forward from his seat on the couch. "Think ol' Ghost here needs a bigger suit, anyway. Put on a few pounds--"

"Soap--"

"--of muscle! What--you think I was shaming ya?"

You roll your eyes, an anxious heat burning in your cheeks. "I can handle shopping myself, guys." And you didn't want them to be judging you for anything you put on.

"Oh, please, Gaz an' I are used to tagging along with our sisters," Soap continues, wrapping an arm around his fellow sergeant. Surprisingly, Gaz agrees with a nod.

"Not saying that you have to take us with you," Gaz starts, "but waiting outside a dressing room a couple hours is nothing."

"Long as we get food, of course," Soap adds.

"Well," Price notes, clearing his throat, "I'm in need of a new tie, too, so seems like it's settled. Ghost--and you?"

The masked man lets out a grunt, arms crossed on his recliner.

"... New suit."

Cue a little, "Ha! I knew it," from Soap. As well as Price filing for a one day vacation from the base.

** * **

You can practically feel the eyes trailing after you and the boys while you walk through the mall. Soap is loud enough as is, and combined with Gaz, both make for a pretty face. Then there's Ghost who just towers over everyone and looks like a cryptid with his mask, and Price who follows with the charm of an older gentleman. A posse of bachelors, that is.

You pick at the hem of your sleeve as you walk ahead--the default leader for today, seen as despite the boys' side quests, the main quest was you. Dressing you up in an elegant dress. Finding you matching heels and accessories. Making you look pretty and presentable.

So now you're here, standing in the dressing room of a fancy first-class boutique you could otherwise never afford--if it weren't for Price's insistence that, as your captain, it was his responsibility to make sure you looked "dapper." You smooth out the off-white creme of the skirt, staring in the mirror; you think you look pretty enough, and the pearl earrings add a certain charm to your otherwise plain features. (Though really, you're stressed that you'll seem more like a child playing dress-up--riddled with the self-consciousness of a girl trying imitate her mother, looking back at the gaudy mascara and smudged lipstick across her cheek.)

But there's no stalling. No more taking forever. The clock is ticking, and you either be judged for how you look, or judged for wasting time, or breaking down in refusal. (You know they'd never judge you--they're good men, you know--but still. You'd pick at your sleeve again if it was there--)

"Ready," you call from behind the curtain, taking a deep breath before stepping out into the light.

And all your fears melt away when they stop their banter to look at you, and their eyes widen--then soften--at the sight.

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mbsneur · 3 days

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Bold motivation

Laia Codina x Reader

Hello everyone, I've returned with a new piece of writing that I hope you'll like and enjoy. Tomorrow, I'll be sharing the Aggie story. I'm open to any feedback and messages you may have, and I'm also open to any wishes you may have! 🩵

Warnings: Smut18+ minors DNI, public sex

My Masterlist

It's been a week since Laia lost not only to Brazil but also to Germany in the bronze medal match, you can understand her, Laia's not really feeling well, she's grumpy with you, she lies on the couch all day and doesn't give you any love and you miss your girlfriend. The season is about to start again and you want to cheer Laia up and take her to the gym, as you both always do when one of you isn't feeling well.

You walk down the hallway in your training leggings and top, towards the living room where Laia is lying on the couch: "Laia, baby, let's go to the gym," you call to her, and she grumbles and turns back into the pillows.

You move closer to her and lean over the couch, planting kisses on her face. "I'm going to cheer you up, Laia. Trust me," you say firmly. Laia finally turns to you. "Let's cuddle on the couch," she says. She says in her sweetest voice, where she knows she can convince you. "And exactly because you're not feeling well, we're going to the gym. Come on. Venga " You say louder this time, and Laia just rolls her eyes.

She gets up and stomps annoyed into your shared bedroom where she puts on her gym clothes, after about 5 minutes she comes back to you still with an annoyed face, you lean against the wall and just laugh at her.

"I finally get a real kiss," you say with a grin, and Laia immediately gives you a soft kiss on the lips, "I only do this because I love you," she says ironically, reaching for her car keys.

You follow her laughing and, despite her bad mood, she is still a gentleman and opens the passenger door for you.

Your journey has been the same as always, Laia has her playlist playing and you talk to her and give her a pep talk and she gives you a little smile now and then.

When you arrived at your gym, checked in and put your things in the locker, you had an idea and luckily the gym wasn't too crowded, you chose a quiet corner where no one was around.

"Laia, can you do 15 sit-ups and then maybe you can get a little reward?" you say mischievously, grinning at her "Yeah, are you going to tell me what to do?" she says with a grin, coming closer to you "The reward, baby," you say teasingly, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

"What kind of reward will it be?" she asks as she moves to the floor, you just shrug your shoulders and watch her do her sit ups, it always turned you on to see Laia working out.

When Laia has finished her sit-ups, you kneel on the floor and pull her towards you for a kiss. Her tongue slides into your mouth and explores every inch. One of her hands grabs your arm to pull you closer to her. You detach yourself from her and pull your top off. You were wearing a sports bra underneath, so it's not really a problem if anyone sees it.

Laia's eyes roam from top to bottom, taking in your whole body, "ah, I see, that's how it works," she grins and starts to kiss you again, deepening the kiss and reaching for one of your breasts, you push her hand away, "Laia, that's not how it works, you have to do 15 push-ups first," you say, moving away a little, you pull yourself back and she start to nibble at your neck, "Laia," you moan softly, "one minute," she says between kisses and nibbles. one of her hands pinches your nipple you squirm under her and try to move away but she is stuck to you

You moan slightly as Laia kisses your neck again and you finally manage to push her away from you. "Laia, the push-ups," you say, your voice firm and out of breath. She goes to the floor again to do the push-ups. You sit there and watch every movement of her strong arms with every push-up, admiring the way her biceps grow stronger with each one. you knew exactly that sex is the best motivation for laia

Laia has done her push-ups and comes crawling back to you. She lands on your neck bone and kisses it repeatedly. You drop your head back and moan. One of her hands slips under your sports bra to feel your breast, which makes you moan again. When you ask Laia what her favourite body part is on you, she tells you it's your breasts. She has always loved your breasts more than anything.

"Laia, stop, you have to run a few kilometres on the treadmill" you say, breathing lightly and Laia moves away from you, you realise that at this moment she would do anything you ask her to because she wants you, she wants to fuck you in this gym.

She gets on the treadmill, a little reluctantly, and you have a plan. You sit down directly in front of Laia so that she has the perfect view of you. You were turned on by the whole thing. Laia had worked on your breasts before, and you now look directly in front of her with your legs spread apart.

When you looked at Laia, she was nervous, her eyes were almost black and she was struggling to walk, you wanted to give her a little show, you played with your bra straps and rubbed your thighs.

Laia's mouth is slightly open as she turns off the treadmill and starts to walk towards you, "Laia, no," you say in an annoyed voice, but Laia ignores your words and comes over to you, grabbing your arm, "Let's go to the toilet," she says in a slightly angry voice, pulling you up from the bench.

She pulls you behind her on the way to the toilets. You quickly grab your top, when you arrive at the toilets. Laia pushes you in and starts kissing you harder than before. You moan into her mouth and she pushes you by the hips into one of the cubicles. She pushes you against the door and her hands wander all over your body.

She nibbles on your lips and god you are so wet your underwear is ruined. "What were you thinking teasing me like that?" she says against your lips. "I wanted to motivate you, baby," you say out of breath from all the kissing. Laia turns you around and pushes you onto the toilet lid. Within a second she is kneeling in front of you.

She kisses the bare skin on your belly and pulls your trousers down to your ankles "You will be quiet now or I swear to God you will not be able to walk for the next three weeks," she says in her strong Spanish accent and something about the thought pleases you.

She pushes your underwear aside and works your pussy directly with her mouth. You whimper and hold a hand directly in front of your mouth to suppress any noise. Laia is enchanting with her tongue, and you can't help about this

She looks at you and teases you with her middle finger, playing with your entrance.

"Don't tease me, Laia," you say firmly. "Let's make this quick I want to take you home and fuck you until you forget your name."

You moan at her words and her middle finger slips quickly into your wet hole.

Her mouth lands on your clit again and her finger pumps into you. Your head hits the tile wall and a slight whimper comes out of your mouth. Laia gives you a warning look and you press your hand harder against your mouth. You can hear how wet you are with every thrust Laia makes with her fingers.

You press against her, and her tongue clamps around your clitoris. She lifts your leg over her shoulder to get deeper inside you before a second finger slides easily inside you. You moan, and Laia bites lightly on your bundle of nerves. She pumps faster inside you, and your legs start to shake. Laia drives you closer to the edge.

"Laia, I'm coming," you say between moans and whimpers, your leg pressing closer to her cheek as she gets mercilessly faster "don't hold back baby cum for me," she says and immediately starts licking you again.

Your body relaxes against hers until you cum on her fingers and make a mess as she pulls away from you. Her mouth and fingers are covered in your juices. Her lips are glossy and slightly swollen above a dazed smile. "Such a good little pup, aren't you?" she says in a low voice. "Let's go home," she adds, and she helps you get dressed.

Tell me your opinion <33

#woso #woso fanfics #woso community #woso soccer #woso appreciation #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso smut #woso x reader #laia codina #espwnt #spanish #spanish women #womens soccer #spain women's national team

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spiderbeam · 3 days

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Here's a concept: I've been stuck on the idea of a dork reader who develops a small crush on Franco and works on her Spanish to impress talk to him but her pronunciation makes what she says borderline offensive/obscene and she knows it as she says it and starts apologizing and it's super awkward and embarrassing for her but I see Franco as being charmed that she put in the effort?

ohh i actually had to think about this one (and it got a little away from me) but. i can see this as either an mechanic!reader or engineer!reader from williams.

you’ve recently befriended franco. and in your opinion, he makes it too easy. i mean—it’s not many drivers that go out of their way to greet everyone in the team every weekend without fail once they arrive on the paddock. but franco does. and he’s been doing so well, and you can’t help the fondness you’re starting to harbor for him. it’s his smile—you’re sure of it. but it’s also his determination to make the best of the few races he has, it’s how utterly drained he looks after every race but smiles and jokes anyway—how hard he is on himself when he doesn’t perform as he wishes. and you’re always having to remind him that he’s been doing this for three races. you find it you enjoy his company a lot more than you should.

you’ve been working on a little side-project during your free time.

now, you know you’re not gonna be able to learn an entire language in the span of eight races. and spanish is hard. but you’re determined to try your best to learn a few phrases.

buena suerte. good luck. lo haras increíble. you’ll do great. vas con todo. give it your all. but even then, they feel impersonal. so, you move away from standard phrases and try to learn one for him.

you find your moment after free practice, sitting inside franco’s driver room as you sit besides him. he’s tired, but with an excited energy he can’t seem to shed. your thigh is nudging against his, his hand inching closer to yours, and you decide to do it now before you chicken out.

you meet his gaze with an encouraging smile on your lips. “estoy muy orgullosa de como cogiste el auto.”

and franco is drinking from his water bottle as he faces you, and you can see the moment he stops, and coughs—and continues coughing. you stare at him in bewilderment.

his voice is scratchy and hoarse when he says, “¿cómo? yo no—what?” he coughs again, and there’s a red blush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“what?” you blink, embarrassment lodging itself inside your throat. “i just, i’m proud of you—of how quickly you got the hang of the car.” you can feel heat spreading across your cheeks as you start rambling. “i know it’s been a really tough transition, and you’ve been doing so well and—” you swallow sharply, clamping down your jaw to prevent yourself from digging yourself an even deeper hole.

franco blinks at you. “oh.” a laugh escapes him, a smile pulling at his lips as humiliation blooms in your chest. “oh, corazona,” franco coos, tilting his head with a look that makes your heart skip a beat. there’s a glint in his eyes you can’t seem to place. “since when have you been learning spanish?”

“not that long…” you look away from him, fidgeting with your fingers. “i just wanted to, y’know, congratulate you like you deserve.”

franco clicks his tongue, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “that’s really sweet,” he says softly, “and it means a lot. but i think you’ve been learning spain spanish.”

you blink, turning your head slightly. he rests his chin on your shoulder to meet your gaze. “um… i think so? i didn’t think it would make much of a difference.”

“it does.” franco chuckles again. “cause in spain, coger means to grab, but in argentina…” his tongue swipes along his canines, lips twitching upward into an amused smirk. “…coger means to fuck. and i think i’d remember if i’d had sex with a car.”

“oh my god.” mortification must be too evident in your face, because this time, franco laughs louder than before. it’s a laugh that rattles his chest, that makes his body vibrate against yours.

“don’t worry,” he says after a beat. he leans closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear. “it’s cute.”

a/n: ohhhh this one definitely got away from me. idk if i should even count this as a ramble cause it could be a drabble 😭 franco is my achilles heel i’m sorry

send me concepts ✉️

#—francocolapinto!#rambles ⛅️#drabbles 🌧️#<- might as well lmao #fc43 x you #fc43 imagine #fc43 x reader #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader

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reshinless · 1 day

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10 minutes. a drabble of fingering ++ dry humping (and a bit of eating you out) w/ spiderman!kinich in his suit.

spiderman!kinich who gets easily stressed, the pressure of being a superhero all kinds of people look up to get to him easily surprisingly for a guy who's usually stoic all the time, not caring for anyone outside of his little circle of friends.

but spiderman!kinich misses you while at work, even on the job when there's no villain in sight, or simply waiting on the criminal for let's say 30-ish minutes or so- he'll swing by the shared apartment you both share.

spiderman!kinich accidentally lets out his anger on you, but quickly being interrupted by a kiss (from you). you knew he'd never tell you these things, he barely opened up about himself back when you two first met, and now that he loved you, you knew he wouldn't throw this away unless emotions took the best of him.

spiderman!kinich who just as easily returns the kiss to you, it was clear when his tongue spoke for him- he was hungry. almost as if he planned for this to happen.

spiderman!kinich suddenly pins you down to the couch, your head on the armrest of it as he kisses down your nape, caressing your cheek with his gloved hand. going as far as to kiss down to your stomach, about to strip you of your pants until you quickly informed him you'd be in an interview soon enough.

spiderman!kinich had no problem straddling you on his lap, laying down on the armrest instead, using your clothed cunt to rub against his 'stress boner' (or whatever he calls it).

it was just that little push, and now he didn't have to do much. letting you do all the work; watching you squirm, and pushing yourself into his dick, but when you get tired.. he'll use the strength in his palms to make sure you both finish into your clothing <3

but that's a last resort. he talks you through it anyway.

"mhm, that's my girl." he hums of approval, watching how you rubbed your clothed cunt onto the tip of his cock ughh!! "uhuh.. that's right, I know you can do more."

spiderman!kinich who loves to praise you. groaning as the grasp on your thigh gets a little tighter to sign to you how he was feeling good. a sign for you to keep going.

spiderman!kinich loved to watch your head throw back, along with your velvety tongue loll out, feeling his shaft increasingly harden against your pussy.

spiderman!kinich didn't have the time to take off his suit sadly, but it definitely defined his abs a lot better. hhhh you could only moan to imagine what it'd be like to ride them.

spiderman!kinich who let you on your back, to rub his digits against the fabric of your panties under the short pencil skirt you decided on for the interview later on.

"so soaked.. just from a bit of humping?" he cooed into your ear, slowly pushing your underwear to the side. slowly fitting his fingers into your hole, one at a time.

the air felt heavy with the musky scent of sweat. strands of hair stuck to your forehead, your eyes glance over to the clock- ten minutes before your interview. spiderman!kinich looked over to the time as well, he could make you cum before that time was up, no problem.

spiderman!kinich who only fingered your hole faster, watching each second tick down to nine minutes, hearing the loud squelched your hole made each time.

adding another digit, you had already creamed onto his fingers. that's one, he made eye contact with you, knowing you couldn't keep your eyes open because of how much you were feeling down there.

his eyes analyzed the way your eyebrows knit each time he hit that one spot, so.. what if he kept curling his fingers against it right after you've just came?

well, the short answer to that was you would cum again, licking it off his fingers, licking his lips right afterward.

his hand pried your legs open, enough to spread it wide enough for his head to fit under your skirt, his tongue taking a dip into your delicious cunt. you couldn't help but clench around his fingers that worked at your hole before. that was 6 minutes.

the way his tongue started to coat your already-wet clit with saliva had your orgasm start to build up once again, adding a third finger into your hole only made it worse, or better in his point of view at least.

his fingers started to work exceedingly fast, or was it coincidentally about to his 3 minutes before the clock would hit 6:25. it's fine if you were a few minutes late right? he's pretty fast at swinging with his webs.

kissing your clit, making sure his tongue would have a long-lasting effect onto it, his started to lap your succus faster than before, not to mention the way your back arched from the sudden jump in pace.

"mmmf- kin i- i'm.. g'na be late!" you said, your hands fumbling everywhere, not knowing where to put themselves. you threw your head back with a whine of his name. he simply hummed as a reply, sending vibrations to your pussy.

there it was- you finally came, squirting onto his face, and landing onto his fingers. licking the aftertaste for a few more seconds, you had to detatch him personally off your delicious taste, making a pop sound.

"you.. don't really need that job, do you?"

"kinich!!"

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honeydewandcake · 2 days

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TW — Asylum/Hospital setting, mental disorders, medical malpractice

Inspired by Fran Bow, Sparklecare, Pure Trance, and other such things; I had an idea for a Dandy’s World AU that centers around a hospital setting

I feel like a lot of people don’t like asylum or hospital AUs because they are full of exaggerated or misinformed ideas of what mental illness is. I tried not to do that, though I’m not a professional so I still might be wrong about some things. I don’t want to take this idea too far in fear that it might be distasteful, but I do want to share this idea to see if others like it too.

Dandy’s Care is a separate world where, instead of a museum, Dandy and his friends were meant to be for a children’s hospital to treat the sick and ill. They were meant to be comfort characters to patients and were meant to support them during their stay. Like in Dandy’s World, the hospital shut down due to unspecified sanitation issues. Dandy, also known as Dr. Dandicus Dancifer, slowly became more and more starved for activity. He started targeting his friends, making the hospital into an asylum for them. He changed their characters, changing his friends into patients. The toons have no memory of their former self, only knowing their diseased and ill present self.

The staff is made up of the main toons. All of them are nurses and Dandy is the main doctor. They all act like their former selves, though they have no memory. I didn’t want to draw all of them so just imagine Astro and Vee in these uniforms.

Read more to see other toons (not all of them drawn or thought of yet, don’t attack me ;-;) ↓

Razzle and Dazzle, the only ones that I thought of completely because I already drew them before. They’re the reason why I made this entire thing anyway.

They are just experiments by Dandy, who wanted to see if the two could live together if they were attached. They used to love each other, now they don’t. Razzle is no longer looking for comedy, Dazzle is no longer looking for hope. Both are only set on the idea of revenge against Dandy for making them this way.

Life is hard when you can only feel the sensations on one half on your body, they can barely walk and can only stand or sit. They take many painkillers as their wounds take a long time to health properly. They wish they could escape this place and just die already, but they’re stuck and forced to live for as long as Dandy wants.

Razzle is a lot more violent now. He is prone to biting and scratching the staff. He hates doing all the lab tests and medical procedures, he hates being near Dazzle, he hates being stuck in this living hell. Razzle is the reason why they’re not allowed near sharp or blunt objects.

Dazzle became paranoid, scared of any noise that happens. He’s terrified of Razzle because of how violent he can get, he hates him too. Dazzle cries a lot, he cries until he can’t everyday. Dazzle wishes he could just die already, he thinks everything is scary and out to get him.

Shrimpo is thought to be a patient that had anger issues and aggressive tendencies. According to Dandy, he was admitted for being violent in public, although this is only part of the fake story that Dandy gave him. Shrimpo was forced to get a lobotomy, unethical but who cares. Dandy sure didn’t.

He’s still in the recovery phase, so he might be a bit loopy. Once those bandages are off, he’ll be as right as rain. Shrimpo is a wanderer around the hospital as he’s no longer a threat. He’s allowed to leave his room and go out in the play yard but only if a nurse is with him.

Shrimpo doesn’t really have much going for him. His thoughts are scrambled and he only cares for things in front of him. Although the lobotomy made him more passive, it doesn’t mean he’s any better in terms of motivation. Shrimpo certainly has no drive for anything anymore, he doesn’t mind but it gets in the way of his health as well. The staff needs to remind him to go to the dining room to eat or to go take a shower, because otherwise he’ll forget.

Boxten was made to believe that he has had problems with insomnia ever since he was little, of course it’s not true. He takes sleeping pills and melatonin, but it only seems to worsen his nightmares. This makes him skip his doses to avoid sleeping, repeating the cycle over and over.

Boxten is afraid of imaginary things that might get him. He thinks they’ve already in his head, eating away at his brain and giving him nightmares. Of course the only thing the nurses can see is his music box. Boxten has lost all trust in the staff since they couldn’t see or feel the things he can.

In my original notes, it said that Boxten might have psychosis.

Well that’s all the once I’ve drawn, I don’t really have the motivation to make every single toon. I have a couple of ideas though

— Goob somehow survived a terrible accident, but both his arms needed to be amputated making him armless. He suffers from brain damage and internal bleeding. He doesn’t seem to have any change in his personality, still as joyful as ever. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism

— Tisha has severe OCD which damages her mental health. She’s constantly worried about everything that happens around her, making her super aware of her surroundings. She could be a danger to herself and others as she sometimes has very aggressive thoughts but can’t control her actions. She unintentionally hurts herself because of her OCD, such as washing her hands so many times that they start to bleed.

Not for a toon, but I did have an idea for an added addition to the hospital. Maybe there’s a twisted reform center where the staff try and heal twisteds back to their normal self. They would clean the ichor from them but since the ichor is also inside of them their personalities don’t change as much. Twisteds such as Finn and R&D might be too far gone though, they would have to be disabled for life. I might draw this idea because I think it’s kind of cool, I definitely will if people also think this is interesting.

#Dandy’s World #Dandys World #Dandy’s World Shelly #Dandy’s World Sprout #Dandy’s World Razzle and Dazzle #Dandy’s World Shrimpo #Dandy’s World Boxten #TW Asylum

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moonstruckme · 1 day

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hiii. congrats on 7k!! can i order an apple pie with ²⁸⁾ dark lipstick smeared on a cheek for stevee?? tysmm💗💗💗💗

Thank you!!

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 585 words

You’re proud of yourself for being able to even half follow the movie. You didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand, but the theater is dark and nearly empty except for a few teenagers several rows below you, and you should have known you were in for trouble when Steve picked a seat in the back corner. You keep trying to break things off and pay attention to the screen, but your lips come back to each other’s like magnets every time.

Steve has shown no inclination to watch the movie, though you know he’d never pressure you if you indicated you didn’t want the distraction. You can feel the asking in the soft presses of his mouth each time you start up again, hi and do you want to and is this okay, all syrupy coke and the bite of the sour candies he’d eaten during the commercials. His hand has taken up permanent residence on your thigh, chaste but there. His torso stays turned toward you like a flower toward the sun.

You open your eyes for a second, catching a glimpse of the screen. “Isn’t that her sister?”

Steve indulges you, turning his attention in that direction. “Maybe they’re trying to take it in a love triangle direction?” he replies quietly.

“Ew, with the sister?”

“I don’t know.” His whisper carries a familiar tone, like he can’t decide whether to be exhausted or amused by you. “Rom coms are weird.”

“Oh, wait.” You perk up. “He’s asking the sister for her ring size. Are they getting married?”

“Well, it’s probably the end of the movie. Getting close to a couple hours now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, baby.” Steve seems to decide on amusement.

You exhale softly, dismayed, and he rubs your thigh consolingly. “I can’t believe we missed the whole thing,” you say.

“We can catch it again, if you want. Or just stay for the next showing.”

“Will we get to actually watch this time?”

Steve drops his head to your shoulder, puffing air down your arm. “If you really wanna,” he says reluctantly.

You smile where he can’t see you. “Why did you agree to this one if you didn’t even want to watch it?”

“Because you wanted to.” He kisses your shoulder, a quick peck.

You make him sit up when the lights come on. His hair is mussed slightly, and when he gets a look at you a grin splits his face.

“Oh, c’mere.” He puts himself between you and the rest of the theater, wiping at something near your lips.

“What?”

“You’ve got lipstick all over you.”

Your eyes widen, and you look at his mouth. Kiss-swollen, with a dark rim you can see even with his face cast in shadow.

“Oh my god, it’s on you too. I forgot I was wearing it.”

“Shit, can you get it? It’s not coming off of you. What is this shit, bulletproof?”

“Supposed to be smearproof,” you mumble. You thumb at his top lip, but the color stays stuck. You can hear the teens chatting as they file out behind him. “I don’t know how we got it all over.”

“We’re just that good,” Steve mutters, but his tone is less humorous than bitter. After a few more seconds, he gives up. “Okay.” He gets up, grabbing your trash and his jacket. “We’re just going to have to get it off in the bathroom.”

You’re horrified. “But everyone will see.”

“I work here. Trust me, we’ve seen worse.”

176 notes · View notes

hyunteru · 2 days

Text

red lips - k. kenma

in which a famous streamer goes live with his girlfriend for a well known challenge— the buldak noodle challenge

pairing: kozume kenma x f!reader

tags/warnings: just cute fluff, cursing, established relationship, timeskip, written in 2nd point of view, reader’s spice tolerance isn’t that good

“Hey guys, kozuken here with—“

“Me! hi chat!” Kenma couldn’t help but smile as he watched you reveal yourself on stream, waving happily at the camera as everyone settled into the stream and started spamming the chat box with comments and greetings. He doesn’t know how you somehow convinced him into doing this challenge with you. He remembers watching people do that stupid cinnamon challenge years ago and judging them for putting straight powder in their mouth, now here he is. In front of millions about to eat the world known “spiciest noodles ever.”

“Alright so— today we have the uhh…buldak hot chicken flavour ramen” Kenma starts off as he holds the empty package on the screen, to save time, the noodles were already cooked and “evenly” separated into two bowls, courtesy of you. “And i guess the challenge is to finish the bowl without literally dying or having to get milk”

“it smells and looks pretty good though” you observe as you take a hold of the bowl and use your chopsticks to mix them around a bit, keeping out the part where your eyes literally started watering when the hot steam hit your face the first time you added the sauce into the pot. “Yeah, nothing more appetizing than literal red.. orange looking noodles that burns my nose” Kenma says sarcastically as you roll your eyes playfully with a smile “You’re only saying that because you held the pot right up to your nose and smelled it!” “Did i?” laughter fell between you too as you playfully jabbed his side and he tried swatting your hand away.

It’s not like you hated spice, you tried to build up your tolerance but that always ended up in runny noses and ice cream. Kenma on the other hand didn’t care for it much. In general, he never liked trying new things. He stuck to what he knew and avoided trying things he knew he wouldn’t like. Despite that, you somehow convinced him to try these “viral” noodles that were going around the internet. People were good at faking reactions for views or money so you (and admittedly, him) were curious as to if these noodles were as “bad” as they seemed. Plus, it’s not like he could ever say no to you.

You held up the bowl to the camera as you pulled the noodles up with your chopsticks, displaying the red fiery noodles to the screen. “Oh by the way i added the whole sauce packet— you know? for the whole experience?” you added on as you retracted the bowl from the camera and held it in your hands as you looked at your boyfriend. You can tell by his face that he wasn’t excited or happy at that at all— Kenma wasn’t very good at hiding his distasteful face. “Of course you did” he huffs out as he grabs his bowl too and held his chopsticks, but there was no malice in his voice whatsoever. You were right anyways, if you’re gonna do some food challenge you might as well go all or nothing.

“Cheers!” You smiled as you took a generous amount into your mouth, Kenma watching you as he took a more cautious bite instead. “Oh wow— it’s actually pretty good” you say as you nod and look at your boyfriend as you continued chewing, but as you continued chewing the flavour intensified more and the burning feeling finally started to rest on your tongue. Kenma was already sweating in his merch hoodie, feeling the spice going down his throat and out his nose as he thinned his lips out and tried not to show a huge display of a reaction. Both of you in silence as you looked at each other, waiting for the other one to break. There was never an agreement on what the “winner” would get but you’re sure it would just be bragging rights, that and the fact that his whole chat would witness it.

The spice was hitting you in the back of your throat, making your mouth secrete more saliva to try to get rid of the burning sensation. Your resolve was falling but so was his, so now it was just a battle of endurance. Your eyes flickered to the glass of milk on the table and back at your boyfriend, a taunting push to see if he would break but he kept his composure and flickered his eyes to the milk glass as well and smirked lightly. “How are you holding in there?” Kenma teases as he looked at you, trying to ignore the way the spice was coming up again as he talked. “Great— just great.. i’m fine.. yeah” you resort, trying to convince yourself otherwise but you were sweating like crazy and the room felt much hotter than it was 10 minutes ago. You silently cursed at yourself for taking such a confident bite at the beginning. Watching too many mukbangs gave you some sort of will and determination that it wouldn’t be as bad, but obviously that’s coming to bite you in the ass now.

Kenma spent years with you, learning your body language and different behaviours. He knows you were fighting to not break by the way you were gripping your knees and occasionally wiping your palms against your pants. He knows you’re sharing the same burning feeling in his mouth and it definitely wasn’t pleasant. Kenma also knew how absolutely stubborn you are, but this spice wasn’t the good type of spice— no, this spice was burning and it felt like his taste buds were shrivelling up in real time. If Kenma was with Kuroo or anyone else, he would suck it up and hang in there to play to long game until the other person gives up. His dignity was too precious to risk and his competitive nature would’ve kicked in. But this was you, and god he loved you so much.

He reached over to the table and took the glass of milk and swallowed it down, the moment you saw him basically surrender, you reached over to grab your own glass and swallowed down the cooling liquid as well. Feeling the instant relief to the burning that once surrounded your mouth. You were honestly surprised that Kenma was the one to back down, you were sure that he was gonna just bite his tongue and hang in there. But, you weren’t gonna complain anyways. Panting lightly as you lowered the glass and finally feeling your body cool down, you look over at your boyfriend who equally looked relieved. He reached over with a napkin and wiped your lips that were covered in the sauce from the noodles, you didn’t even notice the burning on your lips because you were too focused on everywhere else. “Feeling better?” “Mhm— and i feel even more better knowing i just beat you!” Kenma smirked at that as he flicked your forehead “You want ice cream? there’s some in the freezer—“ You didn’t even waste a second to get up and immediately leave the room, basically cutting him off as you rushed out.

Kenma watched you leave with a fond smile, when you were out of sight he moved the two bowls aside and cleared his table a bit as he looked at his chat that were flooding with messages. “What do you mean i let her win, chat?” he says, acting clueless as he leans back on his chair. His eyes skimmed through the messages that kept coming in “What can i say? my girlfriend is just that much better” he says sincerely. He didn’t need to admit out loud how absolutely smitten he was with you, everything showed in his actions. It really didn’t take a genius to figure out how in love with you he is. And he was absolutely okay with that.

m.list

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu x you #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #hq x reader #hq #hq fluff #kozume kenma #kenma #kenma x reader #kenma fluff

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itneverendshere · 21 hours

Note

hi! For the bartender!Universe would u mind writing a pregnancy scare? It brings a lot of mixed emotions when they find out she wasn’t pregnant and it ends up a really deep talk about what they want with their future? Thank you so much 💕💕

i got a similiar ask at the exact same time so i decided to combine aspects of both!!! the other request: "this one’s a lil angsty. maybe you have a pregnancy scare and while rafes like super excited for the potential baby, you’re not, the stress of keeping rafe clean and not heading back to rehab lingers your mind".

hope you both enjoy!!!!❤️🫂🤭

just want you in my life keep you warm at nights - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: pregnancy scare; insecurities

Rafe was sprawled out beside you, his arm draped lazily across your stomach as he scrolled through his phone. You could feel the pressure of his hand pressing gently on your skin, but your mind was a million miles away, your gaze stuck on the ceiling fan.

It felt like everything had been on autopilot for the past few days, your mind preoccupied with one thing—late. Not like a few days late.

More like over a week late.

It wasn’t the first time your period had been irregular, but you couldn’t help but spiral immediately. Rafe and you had been together for three and a half years, living together for a while now and he’d proposed last autumn. But this? This wasn’t part of the plan.

Not yet.

“Hey,” His voice snapped you back to the present, his brows furrowed as he looked at you, concern evident in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked, trying to force a smile. “Nothing... just thinking.”

He shifted, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you more closely. “Thinkin’ about what?”

You stomach dropped. You hadn’t told him yet. You weren’t sure if there was anything to tell because you hadn’t even taken the test. You weren’t sure if you wanted to. Saying it out loud would make it real. And that terrified you.

Rafe, on the other hand, would probably be thrilled. He’d always talked about kids like they were a given, like it was part of some unspoken future you were destined for. You wanted them too, but the truth? The truth was, the idea of being responsible for another human being when you were still trying to recover from Rafe's scare last year and keeping your shit together now that you’d gotten a promotion at the club—well, it felt like too much.

You couldn’t say that, though. Not to him. So you kept quiet.

The next day, you stared at the small plastic stick in your hand, heart hammering in your chest as you waited for the result to appear. The bathroom was dead silent, save for the faint drip of the sink, but your mind was anything but quiet.

This one stupid piece of plastic was going to dictate the rest of your life. It could change everything in the blink of an eye. Three minutes. That’s how long it would take to find out if your entire world was about to be turned upside down.

You still hadn’t told Rafe. You didn’t even know how to. His mind was in a good place lately, and you weren’t about to ruin that. After everything we’d been through—the relapse, the rehab, the nights where you weren’t sure if he’d make it out—this was not something you were ready to throw on both of you.

You hadn’t even wrapped your head around it yet. Shit, you could barely breathe just thinking about the possibility. You glanced at your phone, biting your lip as the seconds ticked by.

Almost time. Your stomach twisted into endless knots. He was in the living room, blissfully unaware of the panic attack you were on the verge of having just a few feet away. You could hear him flipping through channels on the TV, probably looking for some show to watch. Part of you felt guilty for not telling him, but how were you supposed to tell him when you didn’t even know what you wanted?

The idea of being pregnant had scared you more than you expected.

Not because you hated kids or anything, you grew up rising Milo for fuck’s sake—it was just the timing. Or maybe it was more than that.

Your mom died shortly after you were born and your dad…well, a drunk piece of shit was hardly a good parental figure. You’d never let yourself think about it before, Rafe had told you how good you were with kids a million times over the years, but you didn’t know how you’d turn out with your own kids. You didn’t want to be anything like them, ever.

Taking a deep breath, you finally glanced down at the test.

Negative.

Relief took over you so fast it made you feel lightheaded. You hadn’t realized just how much pressure you’d been carrying on your shoulders until it was gone in an instant. Thank God.

Your shoulders slumped as you exhaled, leaning against the sink for support. You felt like you finally could breathe again, like you could relax for the first time in what felt like weeks. There was no baby. No life-altering change. No new responsibility that you didn’t know how to handle.

You closed your eyes. This was good. This was the outcome you needed. No baby, no stress, just… back to normal.

But then, life had a twisted sense of humor and the door creaked open. “Hey, baby, you—”

Your eyes flew open, heart dropping in your chest as you quickly shoved the pregnancy test behind your back. Rafe stood in the doorway, looking at you with his signature confused look—one eyebrow cocked, lips slightly parted, like he’d walked in on something he wasn’t supposed to.

You forced a smile, too wide and too fake, and took a step back, trying to act casual. “Oh, uh, hey! What’s up?” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you internally winced. Smooth.

He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “What are you hiding behind your back?”

Shit.

You tried to laugh it off, shaking your head like it was no big deal. “Hiding? Me? I’m not hiding anything.”

His eyes moved to the hand behind your back. “Really? Because it sure looks like you are.”

You swallowed hard, your brain rushing to come up with some excuse, any excuse.

But the longer you stood there, the more suspicious you looked. And Rafe was nothing if not persistent when he thought something was up. Before you could stop him, he pushed off the doorframe and closed the distance between you two, his hand reaching behind your back in one smooth motion. Your stomach dropped as he grabbed the test from your hand, pulling it out in front of both of us.

He stared at the pregnancy test in his hand, his eyes widening with realization as he slowly processed what he was seeing. What he was holding. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out at first. He just stood there.

“Y-You thought you were pregnant?”

The heat rose to your cheeks, and the anxiety that had been building in your stomach for days came back at full force. You were still reeling from the relief of the negative result, but now that relief was giving up space for guilt. You hadn’t meant for him to find out like this, or maybe not even at all. You didn’t want to drag him into the spiral you’d been caught in, not when things had been going so well lately.

“I... I wasn’t sure,” you stammered, looking down at the floor because it was easier than meeting his eyes. “I mean, I was late, and I just…I didn’t know.”

Rafe’s face softened, the confusion in his eyes giving way to concern as he took a step toward you. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing again, this time for a different reason. The last thing you wanted to do was lie but telling him the truth felt impossible.

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, “I wasn’t even sure if I was, and I didn’t want to freak you out for no reason.”

Rafe’s hand was still holding the test, but now he was looking at you with that intensity he always had when he knew you were telling the entire truth. He wasn’t mad—he never got mad, not anymore—but you could tell he was hurt that you hadn’t let him in. You felt awful about it.

“I wouldn’t have freaked out,” he said gently, stepping even closer until he was right in front of you. “You know that, right? You don’t have to do this alone.”

That was the thing, though. Over the past year you’d spent so long worrying about him, making sure he was healthy, that the idea of burdening him again with your own fears had become...strange.

You didn’t want to be another weight on his shoulders.

“I know, I just…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t know how to feel about it. And I didn’t want you to—”

“To what?” he pressed softly, his voice so calm and reassuring that it made the stress loosen just a little.

You took a deep breath, “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, I guess. Or feel disappointed if it was negative.”

He set the test down on the counter beside him, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. “Baby, I wouldn’t be disappointed,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “If it had been positive, great. If it’s not, that’s fine too. We’ve got time. It’s not like we have to figure this out right now.”

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak. “You’re really not mad?”

Rafe shook his head, “I wish you would’ve told me what you were going through. I don’t want you to carry that by yourself.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. There was so much you wanted to say, so many fears you’d been holding onto—not just about the possibility of being pregnant, but about everything. About whether you were even ready for kids at all, about what kind of parent you’d be, about whether you could handle the responsibility when your past still haunted you in ways you hadn’t recovered from.

“It’s not just that,” you whispered, “I don’t know if I’m ready, Rafe. And it scares the shit out of me.”

He was silent for a moment, and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, his expression was so gentle, so understanding, that it almost broke you.

“Hey,” he pulled you into his arms. “We don’t have to be ready right now. There’s no rush. When you’re ready, we’ll talk about it."

You buried your face in his chest, letting him heartbeat calm you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and for the first time in what felt like days, you allowed yourself to relax.

“I-I know you want a baby. But—”

He sighed against your hair, lips brushing your temple, “What I want is for you to be happy. And if this doesn’t make you happy right now, I don’t mind waiting. We got forever, remember?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want kids—it was that right now, everything already felt like too much. Planning a wedding, keeping up with work, holding your relationship together after what you both had been through, it was all overwhelming. And then the idea of a baby on top of that? You’d grow crazy.

Rafe’s fingers brushed through your hair, and you just let yourself be in his comfort. But the guilt was still there, eating you whole from the inside. You should’ve told him from the start, not carried it all on your own like you always do.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered into his chest, voice muffled. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just didn’t know what to do. It’s been a lot lately.”

He kissed the top of your head, his hands gentle as they held you. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. You’re dealing with enough already.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I think I’m losing my mind.”

The wedding. God, the wedding. You hadn’t even let yourself fully acknowledge how much that had been stressing you out too. You’d dreamed about this day since you were a kid, but now, between caterers, guest lists, dress fittings, and everything else, it felt like a full-time job. And the worst part was, the more overwhelmed you got, the more guilty you felt for not being excited enough about it.

“I just want everything to be perfect,” you admitted, biting your lip. “I want it to be special, but it’s starting to feel like a chore. Like I’m supposed to care more about seating charts and floral arrangements than... than actually enjoying the fact that we’re getting married.”

“Then let’s cut back. We don’t need some huge, over-the-top thing if it’s stressing you out. I just want to marry you, that’s all that matters to me.”

He always knew exactly how to calm you down, how to remind you what was important when everything else felt a little too crazy.

“But what about your family?” you asked, wiping at the corner of your eyes. “They’re expecting this big thing.”

He shrugged, “They’ll get over it. This is about us, not them. If you want something smaller, we can do that. Hell, we can get married in the backyard for all I care, as long as it’s what you want.”

The sincerity in his voice almost made you want to bawl your eyes out. You took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I think I’d like that. Something smaller. More us.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he nodded. You let out a sigh of relief, the knot in your chest loosening more. Maybe this was what you needed—to let go of the pressure to have it all figured out. To accept that it was okay to not be ready for everything.

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

“I love you too,” he replied, his forehead resting against yours. “But baby, you have to stop worrying so much about me. I’m okay. I’m doing good, and I’m not going back there. But you’re gonna drive yourself crazy if you keep putting me first and ignoring what you need.”

You blinked, your breath catching slightly. “I’m not ignoring what I need—”

“You are,” he cut in gently, but firmly. “You’ve been doing it for months now. Since the relapse, since rehab. You’ve been carrying all this, stressing about keeping everything together. And I love you for wanting to take care of me, but you can’t keep putting yourself second. It’s not fair to you.”

You wanted to argue, to say you were fine, that it was just what you had to do to keep everything from falling apart. But deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been holding on so tight, so terrified that if you let go, if you stopped worrying about him for even a second, you’d lose him again.

“I’m just scared,” you whispered, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Rafe said softly, pulling you closer. “But if you keep this up, you’re gonna lose yourself.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your face into his chest as the tears you’d been holding back finally started to fall. Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this release for a long time. You couldn’t stop. Everything you’d been bottling up for months was spilling out at once.

Rafe held you tighter, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. He didn’t try to hush you or tell you to stop. He just let you cry, let you get it all out, like he knew you’d needed this for a long time.

You pulled back slightly, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling what you’re feeling. But you’ve gotta start trusting that I’m okay."

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”

"You’re allowed to let me take care of you too, you know?”

You let out a small laugh, wiping the last of the tears from your face. “I’m not great at that.”

“Meh, you used to be a lot worse.”

“Yeah?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, leaning into his familiar warmth.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You used to keep everything so locked up, I’d have to pry things out of you.

His words made you chuckle, despite yourself. It was true. You had gotten better at letting him in—at least compared to before.

“You’ve always been so good at taking care of me,” you whispered, your hand tracing soft patterns across his chest. “But I guess sometimes I still forget that I don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“You don’t. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve always got you.”

He meant it—every word. This was Rafe at his best, the man who had fought his way back from the darkness, who had become the partner you always knew he could be. The boy you fell in love with, the man you were going to marry and grow old with.

“I’m really trying,” you murmured, blinking back the last of your tears. “I don’t want to keep worrying about everything or trying to control what’s out of my hands. I just want us to be happy.”

“You make me happier than I’ve ever been, and I don’t want you to ever doubt that.”

You hesitated for a second, biting your lip before finally speaking up.

"Rafe?" you said softly, looking up at him. He hummed in response, his hand still tracing slow, comforting circles on your back.

"Are you… are you sure you're not sad about the, uh, not pregnant thing?" Your voice was quiet, unsure. You didn’t know why you felt the need to ask again. Even with all his reassurances, a part of you couldn’t ignore the worry that he might feel disappointed deep down.

He sighed gently, his lips quirking into a soft, understanding smile. "Baby, no," he said firmly, shaking his head as if to emphasize his point. "I promise you, I’m not sad. It doesn’t change anything between us. I told you before—we’ve got time. I’m happy with where we are right now. I don’t need a baby to make me feel complete. You already do that."

You couldn't help but ask again, just to be sure. "Really? You’re not disappointed?"

Rafe sighed softly, moving his hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he looked at you with those steady blue eyes. "Not disappointed. Not sad. I’m just glad you’re here. That’s all I care about. I’m fine with whatever the outcome is as long as I have you.”

"You’re really okay with this?"

He frowned slightly, his hand coming up to gently tilt your chin so you were looking directly at him. "Listen to me. You could never disappoint me. Okay?"

You still had questions, still had insecurities about the future, but for the first time in days, you weren’t consumed by them and allowed yourself to believe that everything really was going to be good.

"Okay."

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apollogeticx · 2 days

Text

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter two of ten

wc. 2.6K

prologue | part 1 | part 3

The air in the room became impossibly thick as Gojo’s voice echoed through the hideout, his presence overpowering everything else. The tension was suffocating, your heart hammering in your chest as you stood frozen in place. Satoru Gojo—he was here, and from the look in his eyes, there was no mistaking the anger simmering beneath the surface. For the first time, you felt a tremor of fear—not just for yourself, but for what would happen next.

Suguru Geto turned slowly, his calm demeanor unwavering despite the sudden arrival of his former best friend. His dark eyes flicked toward Gojo, and for a brief moment, something flickered between them—na unspoken recognition, a history that hung between them like a heavy shadow. But Geto didn’t seem surprised. If anything, it was as if he had been expecting this.

“Well, well,” Geto said, his voice low and smooth, as if he were welcoming na old acquaintance. “I was wondering when you’d show up, Satoru.”

Gojo’s eyes never left yours, his piercing gaze locked onto you with na intensity that made it hard to breathe. The weight of his presence pressed down on you, making you feel like a child caught in the middle of a storm you had no control over. You wanted to speak, to explain, but the words stuck in your throat. What could you even say? That you had chosen to leave Jujutsu High, to abandon everything you once knew, to follow the man who stood before you?

“So,” Gojo said, his tone biting, “you’re joining him now? Is this what you really want?”

His question was sharp, cutting straight through you, and you couldn’t help but flinch under the accusation in his voice. He wasn’t just angry—there was something else in his eyes, something deeper, something that almost looked like hurt. But that didn’t make sense. Why would he care? He had rejected you, brushed you aside like you didn’t matter. So why was he here now, standing in front of you, as if your decision had somehow affected him?

“I… I made my choice,” you managed to say, though your voice was barely above a whisper. You stood straighter, trying to summon the strength you had felt just moments ago, before Gojo had arrived. “This is what I want.”

But even as you said the words, a flicker of doubt crept into your heart. Was this truly what you wanted? Or had you been so desperate to escape your pain that you’d latched onto Geto’s ideals without fully understanding the consequences?

Geto stepped forward, his presence grounding you as he spoke with the calm authority that had drawn you to him in the first place. “She came to me of her own will, Satoru. Don’t you see? She’s tired of being part of your broken world. She’s found something better.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, and you could see the muscles in his neck tighten as he took a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you. His gaze flicked to Geto, and his voice was low, dangerously so. “You think you can manipulate her like this, Geto? Just like everyone else who follows you?”

Your breath caught in your throat at the accusation, and something inside you twisted painfully. Manipulate? Is that what Gojo thought this was? That you were too weak, too naive to make your own decisions?

“I’m not being manipulated,” you said, more forcefully this time, the frustration bubbling up inside you. “I chose this because I believe in it. I believe in what Geto stands for.”

Gojo’s eyes snapped back to yours, and for a moment, the weight of his stare was unbearable. “Do you really?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more measured. “Do you even know what he stands for? Or are you just running away from something you don’t want to face?”

His words cut deep, because somewhere in your heart, you knew there was truth in them. But you couldn’t admit that, not now, not when you had already come this far. You were trying to move forward, to leave the pain behind. But Gojo, with his relentless gaze and piercing questions, was forcing you to confront everything you had been running from.

“I’m not running away,” you said, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to carry. “I’m tired of… of being nothing. Tired of trying to live in a world that doesn’t care about me. With Geto, I can be part of something real.”

Gojo’s expression darkened, and he closed the distance between the two of you in na instant. His hand reached out, but instead of grabbing you, his fingers curled around your wrist gently, holding you in place as if daring you to pull away.

“You think Geto cares about you?” he asked, his voice low and intense. “You think he’ll give you the life you want? He doesn’t care about people like you—he uses them. That’s how he operates.”

You tried to pull away from him, but Gojo’s grip was firm, not painful, but strong enough to keep you there, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was something raw in his expression now, something vulnerable that you hadn’t seen before. His usual playful, carefree mask was gone, replaced by a seriousness that rattled you to your core.

“He’ll break you, just like he’s broken everyone else who’s followed him,” Gojo continued, his voice soft but relentless. “And when he’s done, he’ll toss you aside. Is that really what you want?”

A lump formed in your throat, and for the first time since you had made the decision to leave, doubt fully seeped into your chest. You had thought Geto’s ideals offered freedom, a place to belong, but Gojo’s words made you question everything. Was Geto just using you? Was this really your escape, or was it just another trap?

Before you could answer, Geto’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Let her go, Satoru.”

Gojo didn’t move, his eyes still locked onto yours, but you could feel the tension between the two men grow heavier. Geto’s calm demeanor was still intact, but there was a steeliness in his gaze now, a warning.

“This isn’t about you and me, Geto,” Gojo said quietly. “This is about her.”

“And she’s made her choice,” Geto replied, his voice smooth but firm. “Let her go.”

Gojo’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, as if this was the last chance he had to reach you. “You can come back. You don’t have to go down this path.”

Your chest tightened, your thoughts spinning in every direction. You had come this far, had left everything behind. But now, with Gojo standing in front of you, his presence so overwhelming, his voice cutting through your resolve, you didn’t know what to do.

You could feel the weight of Geto’s gaze on you as well, though it was calmer, more patient, as if he knew what decision you would make. But did he? Did you?

Torn between two powerful forces, you stood there, caught between Gojo’s plea and Geto’s promises. This was the moment of truth—the moment that would define the rest of your life.

But which path would you take?

The silence in the room was deafening, the air thick with tension as you stood between Gojo and Geto, the two forces that had pulled you in opposite directions since you left Jujutsu High. But the weight of your decision had already settled in your heart. Gojo’s words, though laced with concern, had only deepened the wound he had inflicted on you from the start. He had broken you once—shattered your heart with his rejection—and now he stood there, pleading with you as if he could somehow undo the damage. But it was too late for that.

You looked down at the hand gripping your wrist, the heat of his touch sparking emotions you weren’t ready to feel. The words he spoke weren’t enough to erase the pain, the months of being invisible in his eyes. He wanted to protect you now, but where had that concern been when you needed it most? His sudden care felt like a cruel afterthought, too little, too late.

With a deep breath, you pulled your wrist out of Gojo’s grasp, stepping back from him. The look in his eyes twisted something inside of you—there was hurt there, masked beneath his usual confidence. But he had already broken you once, and you couldn’t allow him to do it again. There was nothing left for him to shatter.

“I’ve made my choice,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended, but firm. You looked at Gojo, holding his gaze, even though it was painful. “You were right… maybe I’m running from something. But I’ve already run too far to turn back now.”

The silence that followed your words felt like the calm before a storm. Gojo’s face shifted, the tension around his eyes tightening, his jaw clenching. He didn’t speak immediately, but the weight of his disappointment was palpable, pressing down on you like a physical force. His usual carefree mask was gone, replaced by something much darker, much heavier.

“Is that really what you want?” Gojo asked, his voice low, the sharpness in his tone cutting through you. “To throw away everything? To follow him?”

The anger simmering beneath his calm exterior finally surfaced, and you could see the battle raging within him—his protective instincts clashing with the hurt of your choice. But there was no going back now.

“Yes,” you said, your voice stronger this time. “I’m following Geto. There’s nothing left for me at Jujutsu High.”

Gojo took a step forward, his expression hardening. “You think this will make things better? Geto will—”

“He can’t break me,” you interrupted, your words laced with a rawness that surprised even you. “You already did that.”

The room seemed to freeze after that. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something—regret, maybe—crossing his face. But it was fleeting, gone before you could truly understand it. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, relaxed for a moment before tightening again.

There was nothing more to say. You had laid bare the truth. Gojo had broken you in ways he didn’t even realize, and now you were too far gone to be saved. You weren’t the same person who had walked into his classroom with a gift and a confession. That person was long gone.

Geto, who had been silent through the entire exchange, finally stepped forward, his presence calm and steady. His dark eyes flickered between you and Gojo, and though his expression remained neutral, you could feel the satisfaction radiating from him.

“I told you, Satoru,” Geto said softly, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “You can’t save everyone.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. But then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet space.

You stood frozen for a few moments, the weight of everything crashing down on you. Gojo was gone. You had pushed him away. It was over.

“Are you sure about this?” Geto’s voice broke through your thoughts, gentle but laced with a warning. “Once you walk this path, there’s no going back. Not even for you.”

You didn’t hesitate this time. The decision had already been made.

“I’m sure,” you said, turning to face Geto fully. “I have nothing left to lose.”

Geto’s eyes softened slightly, and for the first time, you felt something close to comfort in his presence. It wasn’t warmth or kindness—it was the understanding that came from someone who had already walked the same path you were about to take.

“You’ve been broken before,” Geto said, almost thoughtfully, “but that means you know what it’s like to rebuild yourself.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded. “Follow me, then.”

Without waiting for you to respond, Geto turned and began walking deeper into the hideout, his presence commanding as always. You followed without hesitation, your steps feeling heavier but more purposeful. Each one took you further from the life you once knew, the person you once were.

As you walked through the dimly lit corridors, you couldn’t help but think of Gojo one last time. His face, his voice, the way he had looked at you with both anger and something close to care—it all lingered in your mind like a ghost. But that part of your life was over. Gojo had his world, and you had chosen yours.

Geto led you into a small chamber, sparsely furnished but enough to serve as a living space. “This will be yours,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “For now.”

You nodded, setting your bag down in the corner. The room felt cold, unfamiliar, but there was a strange sense of comfort in that. This was your new beginning, no matter how difficult or dangerous it would be.

Geto lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching you closely. “You’ll train with us,” he said, “but more importantly, you’ll learn what it means to truly live outside the constraints of the world you’ve known.”

His words were heavy, and you knew that what he was offering wasn’t just strength—it was freedom, a chance to create something new from the broken pieces of your life. It was dangerous, yes, but you had already risked everything to be here.

“And remember,” Geto continued, his voice softer now, “this is your choice. No one can take that from you.”

You met his gaze and nodded. “I won’t regret it.”

Geto’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes as he stepped back. “Good.”

With that, he left you alone in the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

You sat down on the edge of the small bed, exhaling slowly. The silence was heavy, but it was different from the silence you had known at Jujutsu High. This silence wasn’t filled with the weight of invisible expectations or the pain of rejection. It was simply… empty.

For the first time in a long while, the emptiness didn’t scare you. It didn’t hurt.

Because now, for better or for worse, you were free to fill it with whatever you chose.

And you would.

As you sat there, your mind quieted, and a sense of determination settled over you like a cloak. There was no turning back now. You were following Geto’s path, and in doing so, you were forging your own.

Gojo had broken you enough already.

There was nothing left for Geto to break.

notes: Guys~ thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! <3 if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss @asahinasstuff @feitanett @xdinaryheroesstan @laviefantasie @hyunsuks-beanie @starlightanyaaa @tanyaspartak @forever-paramore28 @saatorubby

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iheartmapi · 12 hours

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Get Gone (pt.2 to “Teddy Bear”)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Alexia had crossed another line, and you couldn’t let it be like this anymore.

Angst, no comfort ig

TW: none

Word count: 1,185

Your eyes flickered around the restaurant you were patiently waiting in for the past 30 minutes.

The situation is easy to guess, you were waiting for Alexia, since she herself proposed a date today to you a week ago. Yet she wasn’t showing up. Sweat painted your hands, you wanted to finally catch a glimpse of her blonde hair somewhere in the crowd of waiters and other clients, you tried texting her, perhaps she got stuck in traffic or something else happened to her?

You hoped it was only something of innocent nature…Alexia wouldn’t stand you up after all, right?

More time passed and passed, but to no avail Alexia hadn’t appeared in the restaurant. Tears were begging to be let out of your eyes, it was hard keeping yourself in check and not crying a river right there in public but you at least managed to get back to your car before breaking down in tears.

You went back home, your sadness slowly morphed into anger towards Alexis, lately you’ve been wondering if this relationship even had any chance of salvation. She didn’t return till late in the evening. You were sitting in the living room, your arms crossed as you saw her drop her bag down on the floor. Not even a “sorry”, “hey” or “how are you was dropped, let alone one single look at you. You wanted to scream at her, make a mess of the apartment, claw at her skin pull your hair anything..but she’d just turn a blind eye to it anyway, it’s as if you were invisible, when you were around her she treated you like mist, she just didn’t care.

“Why?” You then spoke up, your cheeks got a reddish tint to them, as well as your eyes which were letting tears fall. You cried silently, just looking at her as she turned around to face you as if she had no clue what you meant by ‘why’

“What are you talking about?” Alexia’s brow furrowed, her gaze said it all, she was looking at you as if you were some mad woman that should be institutionalised for her over-sensitivity. “Why don’t you love me anymore?” You choked out the question you had wanted to ask her for the past few months.

“Y/n-“ Alexia begun with a tired voice, “No” you cut in “Don’t ‘Y/n’ me, you know it’s the truth” And she probably did, Alexia stood in place, her eyes diverted from yours.

“I wanted this to work, I really did, and we had our happy years didn’t we? But you changed Alexia, you don’t give a shit about me anymore.” Your voice broke here and there, a thousand words and sentences were running through your brain, so fast it made you feel like it was frying.

“I thought about this so many times, thought about all the things I wanted to say to you…but now I can’t, there’s so many of them I can’t keep up, you had done me so bad, so many times..so many times I forgave you quietly, but I can’t do it anymore”

“What the hell do you mean?” She barked at you, “So you’re gonna break up with me? Because of some dumb things I did? God you’re impossible-“ The blonde shook her head “Stop it! For fuck’s sake stop it! That’s why I’ve been holding back, cause you always do this, I’m always the bad guy whilst you’re a martyr.” Your hands clutched your head “And dumb things? You cal treating me as if I didn’t exist dumb things? You stood me up, and the best part is this wasn’t the first time” It was clear Alexia was trying to come up with some cheeky answer, one that’d shut you up, but to no avail.

“This is the end” you said now more quietly, “I’m leaving, don’t contact me again” with that you made your way to your now past shared bedroom. Another minute spent in this goddamn place was going to drive you mad, so swiftly you grabbed your clothes and other belongings, not caring to fold them, just to get them into your bags. Alexia soon stormed in after you. “This is fucking crazy!” She yelled, “You can’t do this to me!” Her arms were swaying around, she was mad, furious even.

“You did much worse to me” you muttered “You don’t deserve to be mad at me Alexia”

As you grabbed your now packed bags you looked at her for the last time together, “Goodbye” and that was it, the end.

A few weeks had passed now, you bought yourself a flat since you sold your old one before moving in with Alexia. You recall breathing the fresh air, the wind blowing through your hair when you left Alexia, the world around you felt different, alone and freeing. Later a part of you was screaming at you that you chose the wrong option, but you couldn’t get back with Alexia, not after everything.

Years of a good relationship, and then years of a ruin that was your ‘love’. There was no denying that a small percentage of you, still loved her, but you couldn’t be with her if all you were going to get was a one-sided romance.

Alexia messaged you, one message that read ‘meet me at the pier, you know which one. 7pm, I’ll be there.”

You sighed internally, you were gonna give her one last chance to speak to you, whatever it is she wanted, all you knew was that there was no getting back ever again.

It was dark already, the sky turning into a deep navy blue transcending into black. As you walked down the wooden pier, some happy moments from your time together came flooding back. You knew this had to be the pier she wanted to see you at, and as you walked further down you could make out a woman’s figure in the distance, as you got closer you quickly recognised it was indeed Alexia.

She was leaning against the pier’s fence, looking into the deep blue sea, you stood next to her, glancing into the water as well

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?” You then asked, not looking back at her, and you could feel that she wasn’t observing you either. “Can’t we make this right?” She said after a minute “Alexia…” you sighed, “I told you”

“I can change, Y/n” she was still pleading for you to change your mind. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you, we’re done, and that’s it. If we get back together either you or me are still gonna get hurt” You knew well that it was definitely you who was going to get hurt…but you weren’t here to talk about it, all you had wanted was to deliver the message clearly.

“Y/n..” she mumbled, “I’m sorry Alexia” you simply stated, “Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the fence, walking off, towards the parking lot to your car. As you walked, you hadn’t looked back at Alexia.

You were better off not being together.

#barca femeni x reader #woso community #woso x reader #barca women #wlw #woso appreciation #woso fanfics #fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #la reina #wlw post #wlw fanfic #light angst #angst

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thomas-jefferson-miku-binder · 2 days

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I hate Mel Medarda discourse because she’s an insanely well-written character with a lot of depth, but people almost always have only two things to say about her: 1) evil girlboss or 2) never did anything wrong. both make me want to krill myself 🦐

In front of you, there’s a female character born of war who rejects the physical brutality of her family’s name and the regime she was born under. except said violence never really goes away because if it ever does leave, nothing else would remain

This character can and will reproduce the hatred she has always known, just in more palpable ways, ways where she’s allowed to look away — or even better, ways where she’s so distanced from the action itself that where she “looks” doesn’t even matter

It’s also so interesting to think that maybe Mel doesn’t dislike physical violence because it’s “bad” but simply because she does not excel at it The thought that if Mel was maybe stronger or a more skilled fighter, she would be just like her mother tickles my brain. yaaaas Although, to me, that's a more "what-if" scenario than the actual characterization Arcane deceipts

By the way, I do not think Mel is a monster. She clearly does try to be what she considers a "good" person, but the violence she’s always known sometimes escapes (just like in the Viktor scene above — she does not like to be disagreed with).

Sooo insane that she’s a diplomat/politician because yes. what other job in the world would allow her to exercise that repressed violence while also giving her the sense of duty—of goodness.

Mel is stuck at the scene of the execution form her childhood. All she does is repeat the same scenario in her head with different outcomes: sometimes one where she saves the prisoner, another where she doesn’t hesitate (that being the keyword here) to kill her

This reverberation of the violence she suffered is just her manner of coping with that traumatic scene. a way of lessening the pain without actually confronting its cause.

I feel like I need to clarify that no, I do not think Mel is “evil”. I don’t even think she is intentionally manipulative (most of the time), I think she handles people the only way she knows how to, which is probably one of the only reasons she survived Noxus at all (as, to how I see it, there's only a certain extent your House will guarantee your protection in Noxus).

I know the fandom talks a lot about Viktor and Jayce being idealistic, but I rarely see people mention how Mel is just as romantic. Jesus- that’s literally a huge source of conflict with her mother: Ambessa thinks Mel is naive, which to her means weakness, which to her is unacceptable.

I hate that Mel Medarda is forced to be subjected to fandom spaces, because, no, she is not a small bean. no, she’s not an evil girlboss.

Do I believe she is a good person? I think she tries to be (even if her notion of goodness is so heavily aligned with honor, too), and that tells me a lot more about her character than how successful she is at it

#bringing some of my twitter rambles to here because i think it makes semi sense #cali speaks #mel medarda #arcane #arcane: league of legends #lol #league of legends #meta #character analysis

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hazyki · 1 day

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☆ lights out. ☆

pairing -> dancer!riki x dancer!gn reader

genre → enemies to lovers, fluff, mild angst (they have a little fight), an attempt at humour

word count → 4.5k

synopsis → after a power outage during a storm, you and riki are stuck in the dance studio together

warnings → very very slight profanity

extra→ jay and heeseung cameo at the end :)

Nishimura Riki.

2005 liner, Japanese-born and raised, 183 centimeters tall, and one of the best dancers you’d ever seen.

You hated him.

It wasn’t a surface level hatred, either. It was that deep, gnawing kind that crept up your spine every time he walked into the studio with that stupid infuriatingly perfect posture, head held high like he owned the place. It didn’t help that he actually kind of did.

Riki was always the best in the room, no matter where you were. Dance practice, competitions, even the casual workshops you’d attended; he was there, always a step ahead, always landing the moves with a flawless ease that made your blood boil. Every pirouette, every sharp turn, every damn leap seemed to come to him naturally, like the universe itself conspired to make him perfect. And the worst part? He knew it.

There was something about the way he moved that felt like he was challenging you, as if he was daring you to try and keep up. You always did. Or at least, you’d try; but every time it felt like you were falling just a hair short. Every mistake you made, every moment where your timing was slightly off or your footwork simply wasn’t sharp enough, he’d catch it. He would pester you about even the smallest details, plaguing you with advice you didn’t need. You’d always respond passively, attempting (though failing) to keep in your scowl when you’d realize how helpful his advice truly was. You hated it. Because upon seeing you improve, he’d give you that smug, cocky smirk, eyes barely flicking in your direction like he didn’t even need to try. Like he was just naturally better.

You despised it. Despised him.

So when the two of you got paired up for this competition, it was like some cruel joke the universe was playing on you. Of all the people they could’ve chosen, it had to be him. Soon enough you’d have to be on stage with hundreds of people with him by your side, demonstrating the stark difference in moves. You’re a good dancer; you know it. But next to him, you might as well quit.

Now after weeks of grueling rehearsals, late nights, sore muscles, and frustration simmering beneath the surface, you were stuck here with him, in an empty studio, after the final run through.

"Okay, from the top." Riki exclaimed through labored breaths, his hand doing impatient circles in the air, not even giving you a second to catch your own.

You stood there, hands braced on your knees, your chest heaving as sweat dripped down your forehead and splattered onto the floor. You stared at him, bewildered. Was he serious?

“Again?” Your voice came out steady, but it was laced with resentment, the weight of your frustration compressed into that one simple word. You tried not to let it show or make the thick tension in the air even worse than it already was.

Riki didn’t bother responding. He simply grabbed his towel from the front of the room, wiping the sweat off his face before tossing it aside and walking back to the center of the studio. He didn’t even look at you, just moved into position, waiting for you to follow like this was all some sort of routine for him.

But you couldn’t. You didn’t. You just stood there, staring at him, still trying to process how he could possibly have the energy to keep going. When it became clear you weren’t moving, he finally let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes like you were the one being unreasonable.

God, you hated him.

The studio felt unbearably hot, humid, and suffocating. It had to be nearing midnight, hours after the others had left. You couldn’t even tell what time it was anymore because Riki, in his obsessive need to stay focused, had insisted on leaving your phones outside so there’d be no distractions. The fatigue in your limbs weighed you down, but it wasn’t just the exhaustion from hours of dancing. It was him.

"Yes, again." He said, his eyes narrowing as he glared at you, stepping forward and tapping your shoulder lightly to break your daze. "We have to win. No matter what. So get it together."

You felt the anger flare up inside you, hot and immediate. “May not be as determined as you?” you scoffed. Oh, how typical of him. Like he was the only one who wanted this. Like his sleepless nights and relentless drive made him superior to everyone else. You crossed your arms, standing your ground. “You really think that, don’t you? Just because I’m not willing to drive myself into the ground doesn’t mean I’m not determined. Unlike you, I still care about being able to walk.”

He scoffed right back, the tension between you two rising with every word. "Yeah, well, if you were me, maybe you’d understand what it takes. But you’re not, and that’s the difference between us. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. You just— aren’t."

You both stared each other down through the reflection in the studio mirrors. His usual straight posture was slouched, shoulders sagging, and his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. You knew he was just as exhausted as you, but still he was pushing both himself and you harder than ever. It was insane, but it was Riki. He didn’t know when to stop.

Finally, he broke the silence as he grabbed his water bottle. He tossed yours across the room without a word, and you caught it without thinking. "I need to win this," he said, unscrewing the lid and downing a few gulps. "And if that means practicing until my body gives out, then so be it. If you want to leave so badly, then go."

"We’re supposed to be a team, Riki," you snapped, your voice rising despite yourself. "This isn’t just about you. You can't practice by yourself and expect us to come together perfectly when it matters. They’ll see our differences, our lack of cooperation, and we’ll lose. Is that what you want?”

He scoffed at your attempt to reason with him, clearly unimpressed. “Oh please. Are you seriously trying to scare me into agreeing with you? Just admit it ; you’re too lazy to keep up.”

That was it. “Lazy? Are you fucking kidding me?” You clenched your fists, feeling your temper snap. "We’ve been here for hours. Hours, Riki. Everyone else left ages ago, and you’re still pushing us like we have no limits. What the hell is wrong with you? Is it not enough?"

His eyes were sharp as they locked onto yours, full of defiance. "So what, you’re saying we should just be like the others? You’re fine with being average when the competition comes? With being the same as everyone else?"

You could feel the fury bubbling up, barely contained. "That’s not what I meant, and you know it. If I were okay with being average, I wouldn’t still be here with you. But this? This is insane. We’ve been here for six hours. Six hours. And we can’t even check the time because of your stupid ‘no distractions’ rule. You’re running yourself into the ground. Are you not tired? Do you even like dancing? Because I'm starting to feel like you're treating this as a chore rather than a passion.”

The storm outside had gone unnoticed by either of you as it intensified, rain slamming against the windows in a relentless downpour. Thunder cracked loudly, rumbling through the building, but it was the least of your concerns. You were both too far gone into the argument to care about anything else.

“Six hours is nothing,” he spat, voice rising again. "Just admit it. you’re too lazy to—"

Flick.

Suddenlythe lights went out, bringing the studio into darkness. You both froze, the only source of light now the faint glow of the emergency exit sign. For a moment the only sound was the pounding rain outside and the ragged breaths you both were taking.

The tension was uncomfortable, and now as you were trapped in the darkness with him, it somehow felt worse. You could barely make out Riki’s silhouette, standing across from you, still glaring despite the sudden change in atmosphere.

What the fuck.

The room was dead silent except for the pounding of rain against the windows and the low rumble of distant thunder.

“The hell just happened?” you muttered as you took a cautious step forward.

Riki shifted beside you, and you could sense his frustration even in the dark. “Power’s out, obviously” he said dryly, voice tight.

You rolled your eyes, even though he probably couldn’t see it. “I can see that, genius. I meant why? Did the storm knock it out?”

As if to answer your question, another crack of thunder echoed through the room, making the windows shudder slightly. Riki cursed under his breath, and you heard the soft shuffle of his feet as he moved toward the studio door, trying to peer out into the hallway. The emergency lights barely illuminated anything beyond a few feet.

“Wow, this is great,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Stuck here in the dark with you.”

“Believe me, I’m thrilled.” you shot back, folding your arms. The room was already starting to feel colder, the usual heat from the studio fading away now that the power and the heating had gone out.

You both stood there in silence for a moment, the tension from your earlier argument still thick in the air, mixing with the cold that was now creeping up on you. You shivered involuntarily, rubbing your arms to create some warmth. Riki noticed, of course, and it was only a matter of time before he made some snide remark.

“Cold already?” he asked, his voice half teasing, half exasperated. “We’ve only been in the dark for like, two minutes.”

You glared at him, though it was probably wasted in the darkness. “You do realize the heating is out too, right? I’m not some robot who can function in sub zero temperatures like you.”

He scoffed. “Its hardly sub zero.”

But despite his words, you noticed him fidgeting, his hands rubbing up and down his arms, clearly feeling the drop in temperature too.

“Do you think we can get out?” you asked, trying to shift focus to something more practical. “Or are we stuck here until the storm dies down?”

Riki shrugged, though you couldn’t see it, and walked toward the door again, jiggling the handle. “It’s not locked or anything. But it’s pitch black out there. You want to risk tripping over something or getting soaked just to find out?”

You sighed, already tired of his attitude, but knowing you were both stuck in this situation whether you liked it or not. “So what do we do? Just stand here and wait?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” he said, still that sharp edge to his tone.

You could feel your irritation rising again, but you forced yourself to keep it in check. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. There wasn’t much you could do, and the last thing you wanted was to trip over something in the hallway or, worse, get stuck somewhere else in the building where there wasn’t even an emergency light to guide you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, trying to stop shivering, but the cold was quickly seeping into your bones. Riki, ever the stoic, tried to act like it wasn’t affecting him, but you could tell he was getting just as uncomfortable. His usually straight posture was tense, his arms crossed in front of him in an attempt to conserve heat.

“Guess your brilliant plan of staying here all night is coming back to bite you now, huh?” you muttered, unable to resist the jab.

He glared at you, but his usual fire was dulled by the cold and the exhaustion. “You’d rather be out in the storm?”

“No, but I’d rather not freeze to death in here, either.”

Another moment of silence fell between you, only broken by the faint sound of the rain and your collective breaths. The warmth from the earlier workout was long gone, replaced by an uncomfortable chill that made you both painfully aware of just how long you might be stuck here.

Riki sighed, sounding more tired than angry this time. “Look, this sucks. I get it. But what do you want me to do? I didn’t plan for the power to go out.”

You hesitated, surprised by the shift in his tone. He sounded less like the demanding, insufferable person you’d been arguing with for hours, and more like someone who was just as worn out as you were.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, feeling the fight drain out of you. “I just want to go home.”

He didn’t say anything at first, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to snap at you again. But then he sighed, softer this time, and leaned back against the mirrored wall.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, almost like he was talking to himself. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The studio was dead silent except for the pounding rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. You stood there in the dim light, deciding to walk over to the mirror and sit down. Your pulse thudded in your ears, every ragged breath matching the rhythm of the storm outside. You were still fuming, still riding the high of your argument, but now, in the sudden darkness, the energy felt different.

You could barely make out Riki’s shape, the dim glow of the emergency light casting a faint silhouette. He was standing still, breathing just as hard as you, and for once, there wasn’t another snide comment. No sarcasm, no scoff. Just the quiet.

“Well then,” you finally said, voice edged with frustration, “I guess that’s it for now.”

Riki didn’t respond. Instead, you heard the soft shuffle of his body as he walked up to where you were sitting, and dropped down next to you, on your left. His face was still impossible to see, but you could imagine the way his brows were furrowed, the stubborn set of his jaw.

“You were kind of right.” He muttered, and you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to lean into his body warmth.

“Huh?”You respond, a little confused.

“You know,” his voice cut through the silence, lower now, almost thoughtful, “you think I’m doing this just to push you, but… you don’t get it.”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in tone. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not pushing you because I want to win.” He turned, facing you now, but still just a shadow against the emergency light. “Well I mean, yeah, I want to win. But I’m pushing you because if I don’t push myself harder, I feel like. Like I’ll lose something.” He paused, the hesitation in his voice something you weren’t used to hearing. “Like if I stop for even a second, I’ll forget why I started.”

The anger in your chest started to cool, replaced by confusion, and maybe something else. “What do you mean?”

There was another pause, longer this time. The tension that had filled the room was still there, but it had shifted. It softened somehow. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Sometimes I’m scared I’m killing it. The passion, I mean. Like, I love this, dancing, performing, but sometimes it feels like the more I do it, the less I feel. Like it’s just becoming something I have to do because it’s expected of me. And I don’t know how to stop that from happening. So I just… keep going.”

You stared at him, the words sinking in. Riki, the guy who never show a moment of weakness, was standing there, admitting he was scared. That he was afraid the very thing he loved the most was slipping away from him.

"I dont wanna end up hating it,” he continued, and his voice cracked just slightly, like he was holding something back. "But I also can’t stop. Because if I stop, then what? Who am I if I’m not good at this? If I’m not the best?"

His words hung heavy in the air, mixing with the sound of rain slamming against the windows and the soft hum of the emergency light. For the first time since you started working together, you felt like you were seeing a different side of him. One that wasn’t full of arrogance or irritation or stubbornness.

You scooted slightly towards him, awkwardly bumping his shoulder against yours, your own frustration slipping away as the storm inside you started to settle and the cold started to dissipate because of his body warmth. “You’re not going to lose it,” you said softly, surprising even yourself with the gentleness in your voice. “You won’t lose the passion. I don’t think its something that just disappears, no matter how hard you push yourself.”

Riki didn’t say anything, but you could see the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly.

“And if it ever does start to feel like that,” you continued, voice steady, “then maybe that’s when you need to take a step back. To breathe. To remind yourself why you love it in the first place. Because, sorry man, but pushing yourself to exhaustion isn’t going to bring that love back. It’s going to make it worse.”

He let out a long breath, leaning against the mirror as if the weight of his thoughts had finally caught up to him. “Maybe.”

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know….. Um. We’re supposed to be a team, Riki. That means you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

He glanced at you through the dim light, his expression hard to read, but something about the way his posture relaxed told you that maybe, he was starting to let his guard down.

"Can I be honest?" you began again, feeling his eyes settle on you in the dim, cold room.

Riki shifted beside you but said nothing, the weight of his earlier confession still hanging between you. You could hear his slow, measured breathing, almost like he was trying to brace himself for whatever you were about to say. The cold air nipped at your skin, the only heat coming from him, but in that moment it was the least of your concerns.

"I never really thought you’d say something like this," you continued, rubbing your arms absentmindedly to keep warm. "I mean, honestly, Riki? For the longest time, I just thought you were like... a complete asshole."

He let out a small, incredulous laugh at your bluntness, but stayed quiet, waiting for you to go on.

"I did!” You insisted, turning to face him more directly. "You always acted so smug. So perfect. Like nothing ever got to you, and you just... ugh, you drove me insane. Every time we had practice it was like you were showing off and I hated it. I hated you. I mean sure, you were talented and yeah, I could obviously see that, but it was like you were purposely rubbing it in everyone’s face."

You could feel his gaze on you, and although it was dark, you imagined his eyes were wide with surprise at your honesty. He probably didnnt expect you to lay it out like this, but after his confession, you felt like the air between you had cleared enough to speak your mind. Plus the cold had numbed your usual hesitancy.

"And okay, maybe I was jealous," you admitted, letting out a breath. "Actually, no, I was jealous. All of the time. Like, it felt like no matter how hard I tried, you’d always be one step ahead. Always better. Always the golden boy or whatever... And it made me hate you more because I felt like I was never good enough compared to you. And then you’d keep pushing and pushing, acting like you didn’t have any limits, and it made me feel even worse. Deadass, how were you not exhausted? How did you keep going without burning out?”

Riki shifted slightly beside you, and you could sense his surprise. But to your shock, he didn’t snap back, didn’t argue. He just listened.

"But I never once considered that you were struggling too," you continued, sighing and your tone softening as your thoughts unraveled. "I just thought you were this unfeeling robot who thrived on outdoing everyone else. I didn’t think about what you were sacrificing, or how it was weighing on you. I guess I never really stopped to think that maybe you were hurting too."

The words hung in the cold air, the silence around you paused only by the sound of rain hitting the windows. The heat was long gone from the room, leaving a biting chill in its place, but your mind was so focused on getting the words out that the cold barely registered.

"I mean, don’t get me wrong," you added, a bit of your usual snark creeping back into your voice. "You are an asshole, like, still. Probably. But now I kinda get it, you know? You’re human. You’re not some perfect machine. And I’m—“ A pause. “I’m glad I got to see that side of you. Because now I think I understand you better."

For a moment the silence stretches out, and you half expect him to snap back with something sarcastic or dismissive, as he usually did. But instead, you feel him move beside you, closer this time, and before you could react Riki’s head softly came to rest on your shoulder.

You stilled for a second, blinking in the dark, unsure of what to do. The warmth of his head against your bare shoulder was a sharp contrast to the cold that seemed to seep into every other part of the room, and the unexpected intimacy of the gesture sent your thoughts spiraling. You had just spent the last few minutes telling him how much you loathed him, and now here he was leaning into you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Errr... what are you doing?" you asked with a voice laced with confusion, though you didn’t make any effort to push him away.

He didn’t lift his head or even glance at you. “It’s cold.” he muttered, almost like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You let out a huff of air of half amusement and half shock. "Okay but— You know tthat this doesn’t mean I suddenly don’t think you’re still lowkey a jerk, right?”

Riki let out a soft laugh, though it was more relaxed this time and less sharp than before. “Yeah, I know.”

You sighed, unsure if you should find this whole situation absurd or oddly... nice? For someone who just confessed how much you couldnt stand him, here you were sitting in the cold with his head on your shoulder, both of you too exhausted to care about maintaining whatever wall had existed between you. Warmth crept up your ears slightly.

“But seriously,” you continued, voice a little quieter now, “I’m glad I saw this side of you. It’s weird... but in a good way. I think I actually— I think I really understand you now. And to be honest, I didn’t even think that was possible."

Riki shifted slightly but didn’t lift his head. “Yeah... me neither,” he admitted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

Maybe you didn’t really hate the guy as much as you thought. Maybe what you had once called hate was just layers of frustration and misunderstanding, all tangled up in your own jealousy and his annoying perfection. Now, with his head resting on your shoulder and his breaths soft against your neck, the feeling wasn’t something you loathed. In fact, it was kind of comforting.

It made you realize that maybe there was something more to all of this. Beneath the sour conversation, and the constant competition and tension, maybe there was something you hadn’t let yourself see before.

Without thinking much about it, you shifted closer, letting your head rest gently against his. Your arm slowly found its way around his, and instead of pulling back, he stayed there, both of you wrapped up in the quiet, the cold, and each other.

And for the first time, in a long time, you allowed yourself to relax. Your eyes fluttered shut as your breathing synced with his. It was strange how natural it felt, like this had always been there between you two, waiting to be discovered.

You didn’t really hate him. Not anymore.

Flick.

The overhead lights buzzed to life, illuminating the room suddenly, blinding you both. You squinted against the harsh light, feeling Riki stir beside you as you both blinked yourselves awake.

The door to the studio creaked open and Heeseung and Jay walked through it, their faces a mix of confusion & amusement. They both froze at the sight of you two, curled up together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heeseung raised an eyebrow with a smirk already forming on his lips.

“Well, well, well,” Heeseung said, crossing his arms as he took in the scene. “What do we have here?”

Jay, standing beside him, looked equally entertained, though he tried to hide it with a straight face. “Didnt expect to walk in on this.”

You quickly pulled away from Riki, sitting up straighter and blinking in annoyance at the sudden interruption. “Uh…,” you muttered under your breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment creeping up on you.

Riki, on the other hand, rubbed his eyes, looking dazed but clearly embarrassed. “What are you two even doing here?” he asked, his voice still groggy from sleep as he avoided eye contact with his hyungs.

Heeseung chuckled, clearly enjoying this way too much. “We heard the power went out and figured we’d come check on some things. Didn’t want the equipment getting damaged or anything. But...” he gestured to the two of you, “looks like we found something a little more interesting.”

Jay nodded, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, Riki, what are you doing here?”

Riki groaned, clearly regretting ever opening his mouth. “Just... we were practicing late, okay? And the power went out, and, uh.” he glanced at you, unsure how to explain the rest. “It’s not what you might think it is.”

“Oh sure,” Heeseung said and winked. “Totally.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling yourself to your feet and stretching out the stiffness from being curled up on the floor for so long. “Can we not do this right now? It’s late, and I just want to go home.”

Jay grinned, tossing you his jacket. “Alright lovebirds. Let’s go. We’ll drive you both home before this gets any more awkward.”

Riki shot them a look, his cheeks tinted pink as he grabbed his things. “God, I hate you guys.”

“Nah, you love us.” Heeseung corrected, as the four of you walked out into the chilly night, leaving the studio (and whatever had just happened) behind.

note : thank you for reading!! as always comments and feedback are always appreciated :) fyi i got a little lazy towards the end so sorry if it stops making sense halfway through or if i didn’t bother to proof check correctly 😭😭

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thepixelelf · 2 days

Text

warnings: coarse language, violence, broken bones, fire. superhero au. wc: 1.8k

love triangle au requests

[trio and error] You climb up the arm and past the shoulder of the elemental, then use that momentum to throw a sharp punch into its stone jaw. Under nanotech gloves, your hand smarts with a sharp, pulsing ache — even with the glove’s reinforced knuckles. “Ow, fuck,” you curse, shaking your hand out like that’ll make the pain go away. “I’m thinking ramen.”

Junhui’s mic input crackles in your in-ear. “You’re always thinking ramen. Watch your head—”

You duck out of the way just as the monster swings its giant arm over you. “Look, I’m also open to sushi.” It throws another punch. “Or katsudon.” The huge fist you dodged lodges into the shattered concrete, and you use the moment it’s stuck to jump up to the monster's head again. “Or katsu-curry don.” Looping yourself around the elemental’s neck, you try to topple it to the ground with no such luck. “Or oyakodon— shit.” It flings you off. You hit the ground and skid across the concrete enough for your nanotech suit to start to burn hot. “Ough. Or soba.”

“Are you okay?” Junhui asks, unconvinced by your nonchalance. You’re sure his eyes are on every one of his monitors, from the ones showing the fight through drone cameras to the one displaying your vitals via your supersuit.

“Peachy,” you grunt at him as you stand up and glare down the monster. You hate the tough, stubborn ones. “How do you feel about gyoza?”

“You’re literally only naming Japanese food.”

“Well I don’t hear you coming up with anything.”

Junhui scoffs. “Because I know we’re just gonna get what you want anyway.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying we— left, left!”

You whip your head around, and your eyes widen as a giant stone fist hurtles your way. “Oh, shit.”

A flash of orange fire, three claws of it, fills your vision as your partner pounces on the monster’s arm in a burst of flame. He knocks its attack off course just enough for you to tumble out of the way. Luckily for you, Junhui designed your suit to be just as fireproof as your partner’s, considering how often you’re scary close to Tigerstar’s attacks. It’s still hot as hell, though.

“Nice save,” you tell him, out of breath.

Soonyoung launches himself at the monster again, swiping a fiery claw at its face. It hardly reacts. “Have you guys forgotten we’re fighting a level four terra right now? Stop flirting over comms.”

You try to kick the terra’s chest to knock it backward, but it barely stumbles. “We are not flirti—”

Junhui’s voice overlaps with yours. “As if I’d flirt with them.”

“Wait.” You hold your hand over your in-ear so you can hear him clearly. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“I’ll have you know that plenty of fans would kill to flirt with me.”

“Good thing I’m not one of your fans.”

You gasp. “Wen Junhui!”

“Guys,” Soonyoung scolds you through the comm. He leaps backward to dodge another punch from the terra. “I’m absolutely begging you to focus. If I had the time to get on my knees, I would.”

You roll your eyes. Neither of your partners can see it, but you know they can hear the indignant drawl in your voice. “It’s not like we’re gonna kill this thing.” In fact, both your powers and Soonyoung’s are practically useless against a stone terra. You’re supernaturally strong, but you’re not punching through entire boulders strong, and Soonyoung’s flaming claws aren’t nearly hot enough to melt rock. Both of you are way more adept at taking down fleshies. “We’re just holding it off until team Zamboni gets here. Speaking of—”

“Where the hell are those guys?” Soonyoung asks as he catches the terra’s attention so it doesn’t head toward the more populous area of the city.

“Yeah.” You eye the monster’s leg, assessing if you could topple it over somehow. “What’s the hold up?”

Junhui doesn’t answer right away, but you can hear the clacking — sorry, thocking — of his fancy keyboard. “Traffic.”

“Traffic?” you and Soonyoung echo in sync. A sputtering scoff escapes your lips. “Since when do supers get tripped up by traffic?”

Chuckling, Junhui says, “I mean, it’s the Zambonis we're talking about here. When have they ever been on time for anything?”

You make eye contact with Soonyoung by your side and nod towards the gap between the terra’s legs, indicating your plan without the need for words. There’s a reason you and him have been partners for however many years despite the lack of commonality between your superpowers. It just works with the two of you. And with Junhui as your man in the van— you’re a great team. Unnecessary conversations over comms aside.

“Seungkwan was a little early for my birthday thing last year,” you say in team Zamboni’s defense as you rush towards the terra and it charges at you.

“Yeah.” Junhui scoffs. “Because he had a big fat crush on you back then.”

Synchronized again, even in incredulity, you and Soonyoung both go, “He did?!”

The news doesn’t stop you in your trajectory, but Soonyoung falters, and where he was supposed to distract the monster while you went for its leg to knock it off balance, he just stands there. You wrap your arms around one of the terra’s legs. It starts to lean forward, about to fall on its face, but without Soonyoung to steal its attention, the monster swivels its stone torso 180 degrees. Now looking right at you with glowing, yellow, soulless eyes, it launches both stone hands at you.

“Fuck!” You try to break out of the terra’s grip as it lifts you above its head, but your arms are pinned to your sides.

Junhui yells your name through the comms. You think you hear Soonyoung screaming, too.

Around four things crunch at once, and yeah, passing out doesn’t seem so bad right about now.

—

When you come to, you see the same familiar ceiling you always do when shit goes south. There’s an Uncle Sam wants YOU poster taped to the otherwise bare white surface, except the rest of the words are painted over with, to stop being an idiot super. Jeonghan put that up after he warned you about coming in with one more “stupidity-induced injury”.

You’ve woken up to that poster more than a few times since he taped it up there.

Groggily, you turn your head to your left, and like clockwork, Jeonghan grins down at you over the edge of his tablet.

“I get it,” you groan, squinting because of the fluorescent medbay lights.

Jeonghan lets out a breath of a laugh and speaks quietly. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“Still.” Your head lolls to the other side, and you see the top of Junhui’s head resting next to your leg. He’s asleep in a chair, bent over your raised cot with one arm pillowing his head, and his opposite hand under your right one. Though his fingers have fallen slack in his unconscious state, you can tell he was cradling your hand gently. You lift your sore arm and pat Junhui’s head, rubbing your thumb back and forth. He hasn’t washed his hair in at least a day, you think with a quite laugh. “I get it,” you mumble, turning back to Jeonghan without removing your hand from Junhui’s head.

“I’m sure you do,” Jeonghan says. He barely acknowledges Junhui’s presence, used to him being in the medbay whenever you come in hurt. “You broke almost fifteen percent of your bones.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Because half of your bones are in your hands and feet, super, and you just happened to be lucky in those areas.” Jeonghan types something into his tablet, then looks up at you again. “Just because you heal faster than the average human doesn’t mean thirty bones is something to sneeze at.”

“Of course, doc.” You smile at him. “I’ll be sure to let the next killer monster know you said that. Maybe they’ll go easy on me.”

He just grins right back. “Tell them I want a vacation, too. Preferably in May.”

You laugh together, both of you keeping it low so you don’t wake Junhui.

“Where’s Soonyoung?” you ask later, while Jeonghan checks your IV drip.

“He’s in I&R.”

“Info and research?” Confused, you frown. “Why?”

Jeonghan shakes his head, almost like he can’t believe the reason himself. “You should see the videos, super. Soonyoung went ballistic when the terra dropped you — you looked dead, by the way. I’m serious when I say you need to be more careful.”

“I mean.” You shrug. “I felt dead.”

Jeonghan frowns at you for once, and even though you can always tell, it does feel nice to see plainly that he cares if you make it out of these fights dead or alive. “That’s not funny,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Anyway, you said Soonyoung went ballistic? What does that have to do with the I&R team?”

“His fire turned blue,” Jeonghan answers, a glint of excitement in his eye. Even though he’s (mostly) a normal doctor, he’s always been fascinated by superpowers.

Your eyes widen. “Blue?”

“Yeah. So they’re running a ton of tests on him since that’s never happened before. Right?” He waits for you to nod before he continues. “Mingyu thinks it has to do with his power’s connection to rage, and Wonwoo was saying something about heart rate. They don’t really know, though. Whatever it is, I’m sure all Soonyoung wants to do is get out of there.”

You tilt your head. “Why? That sounds so cool.”

“Well, he hasn’t been able to check on you yet.”

“Oh.” You try not to read into it — any of it — as you keep absentmindedly caressing the top of Junhui’s head.

As if on cue, though, you hear frantic footsteps coming down the hallway. Soonyoung barges through the medbay doors with about as much decorum as an angry grizzly bear. Panting, he turns toward your bed and jogs toward you.

Jeonghan slides out of his way with practised ease just before Soonyoung barrels into you.

“Oof,” you say when he wraps both his arms around you. “Easy, tiger. I’m trying to heal fifteen percent of my bones.”

Stirred from his sleep, Junhui sits up and rubs his eyes with one hand while shoving Soonyoung with the other. “Get off them, hothead.”

Soonyoung stands up straight, but he takes your hand and pouts at you. “Junhui’s being mean to me.”

You don’t know when it happened, but Junhui’s holding your other hand. He’s not looking at you when he says to Soonyoung, “Your partner’s on a hospital bed.”

“That’s not my fault!”

“I never said—”

“Guys,” you interrupt, squeezing both of their hands to grab their attention. They both turn to face you, and you can’t help but smile. “How do you feel about ramen?”

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strangemaleswaps · 1 day

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Strange Spellbook Swap

I've always wondered how couples stay together so long. My husband, Derek, and I had been married for 3 years now and while we get along great and support each other through everything, the sex had been pretty stale for awhile. Half the time he's not really in the mood and when he is, we usually just jerk off next to each other. I was getting tired of it and craved something more. But Derek was still so cute, him being a socially awkward nerd, and I was scared to tell him how I feel because he might cry.

That afternoon, I was on my way to pick him up from work. We only had one car, but since both our jobs typically had the same shift, I always headed over to pick him up at his job at the library. I didn't actually have work today so I went a little earlier to look at some books. When I arrived, Derek noticed me and smiled real big.

“Hey! You're early!”

“Yeah, thought I'd browse a bit.”

“Ah ok. I just organized it all so you get to see my work!” He smiled again and continued helping customers in line.

I browsed through my favorite genre - fantasy. I always loved ones that involved magic, spells, and amazing worlds. I noticed one book that kinda stuck out a bit amongst the shelf. It was some kind of spellbook with a brown leather cover, and had a bit of dust on it, which seemed strange because the rest of the shelf was perfectly clean. I opened it up and found that it was indeed a spellbook. I wasn't the most superstitious person ever, but I did believe there was some kind of magical force out there that could do incredible things.

I flipped through the table of contents and noticed there was a category called “relationships”. I turned the pages to the section and saw a bunch of spells - ones to make someone fall in love with you, ones to get promoted at work, ones to impress your family, things like that. I was about to close the book when I found one page - how to spice up your sex life. That was just what I needed! Even if it didn't work, it couldn't hurt to try.

I walked over to the counter right as another guy started talking to Derek. He was a real muscular guy wearing a white shirt and tan hat. His pants left absolutely nothing to the imagination with the way they were tight fitting around his ass. A mustache covered his thick face, which complemented his bright green eyes. He was carrying a tote bag.

“Hey can I help you?” He greeted the man with an eager attitude. “Need a book recommendation or anything?”

“Oh no I don't read.” The man spoke with a deep manly voice. “I mean, who has time to when you could be working out?” I could see the rare irritated look on Derek's face.

“Then…what do you need from the library?” He replied, much less eager than before.

“Just dropping off some books for the wife. We're going on vacation and they’re due tomorrow.” He took a couple books out of the tote bag.

“Allright. I can take them.” The man handed him the books and immediately turned around and left. Derek's smile returned when he saw me with a book in my hand.

“Hey! What'd you get?”

“It's a book of spells.”

“Of spells? Like real ones?”

“No way,” I laughed. “Just some dumb thing. Looks fun to read though.”

“Allright. Gotcha.” He checked me out and I sat down, waiting for him to finish the rest of the closing.

That evening after dinner I tried to seduce him but he wasn't having it once again.

“Sorry, work has me so exhausted you know?” I wish that I wanted to, but…well I just don't want to. Sorry.” I stood there defeated.

“Ok.” I let out an emotionless reply. As Derek brushed his teeth and got ready to head into bed, I flipped through the pages of the spellbook. I found the “spice up your sex life” spell and read the instructions. I needed to recite the incantation while looking at a picture of the two of us. I took out my phone, and scrolled through my gallery until I found the perfect picture. Then I started to recite the spell. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing. At that point I was mad at him and now mad at the spellbook for wasting my time, so I headed into the bedroom. There I found Derek waiting for me.

“Hey…look I'm sorry. How about tomorrow morning we have some fun? I promise I'll go through with it!” Maybe the spell did work afterall! We both had a day off tomorrow so that was perfect. I was so excited that I could barely sleep.

The next morning I woke up to Derek nudging me awake. Excitedly, I turned over. But to my surprise, it wasn't him smiling at me, but a hairy guy with a mustache. He was giving me a sexy smile.

“Hey…you ready?” He gave me a look of uncertainty and cleared his throat. I didn't even know what to say but I was so confused that there was total stranger in my bed, so I had to say something.

“Who are…you?” He frowned beneath his mustache.

“What do you mean? Oh no, am I having an allergic reaction somehow? That would explain my voice and why my eyesight is blurry even with my glasses on. It's me though! My face must be so puffy…oh god."

”Holy fuck. It's Derek! But this was far beyond an allergic reaction. He's an entirely different person! He pushed the covers off and was about to get out of bed, probably to take a look at himself in the mirror, when he glanced down at his body. This was definitely not normal. He was muscular, tan, and hairy - a stark contrast to what he normally looked like. He made a terrified face, which was a strange sight on such a macho guy.

“What? What's happening? I-I…” He looked at me with worry in his eyes, and it was then that I realized WHY this was happening. It must've been the spell. I guess turning your boyfriend into a muscle hunk would definitely spice up our sex lives. But I couldn't leave him in the dark.

“I-I,” I started. “It was my fault. That spellbook I got, I used it on you. I didn't expect this though!”

It was then that I realized WHO he was. That guy we saw at the library yesterday. He somehow swapped bodies with him!

“What? What spell was it?”

“Spice up your sex life. I just…was getting bored. And you were never in the mood.”

“Oh…but it turned me into this?” He then rushed to the bathroom. I followed. He immediately recognized himself as soon as he looked into the mirror.

“Hey! I'm that guy from yesterday!? Why did it turn me into him?”

“I-I don't know! Maybe it picked someone from a recent memory?”

He gazed at himself in the mirror with an open mouth, and touched all around his face, pinching and feeling his mustache.He gazed down and admired his new muscles, feeling all around his pecs and the chest hair growing from them. He then turned around and stared at the mirror again, this time making a variety of expressions.

“What am I supposed to do? I can't stay like this!”

“I don't know! There must be something about a reverse spell in the book.” Flipping through the book, I once again found the page I needed. I read every word but didn't find anything about a reverse spell. Could he be stuck like this?

“Maybe if we see like a professional?”

“What, like a fortune teller witch lady or whatever?”

“Exactly.”

“Well. I do remember seeing something like that close to town. A psychic. Maybe they can help?”

“We could try.” I looked up fortune tellers and found Madam Cleo - Psychic. It was a short drive away. I was hoping we would find our answers there.

“I got it.”

“One problem,” Derek said doubtfully.

“What?” He stared down at himself and then answered.

“I don't think anything will fit me now…” I couldn't help but laugh out loud.“I think we can find something at least.”

We dug through the closet and eventually found the Lakers jersey that my uncle gifted me a few years back. I wasn't even into basketball and it was a few sizes too big, but at least it helped us in the end! Derek slipped it on and gazed at himself in the mirror. It fit pretty nicely.

“Not really my style…but it'll do for now.” He put his finger on his chin and then rubbed his head. He froze when he grazed the back of it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I'm…balding.” He turned around and tilted his head up to show me. He definitely had a bad case of male pattern baldness. I thought it was pretty hot, but he looked terrified.

“Hmm…well. That's something we can just fix with a hat. I walked into the bedroom, grabbed one of my hats, and put it on his head. It completed the look well.

“I guess this'll work. Maybe.” I laughed again.

“You'll be fine.”

We got to the car, Derek struggling a bit to fit in the passenger seat with his new frame, and headed over to the fortune teller. It was a warehouse-like building, although much smaller. As we were about to walk in, someone else walked out. He was a young looking guy around my age, but at least 200 lbs heavier. He looked like he made absolutely no effort to control his weight.

“Hey! That lady is awesome!” He said excitedly. “She told my fortune and said that I would lose weight very soon! I can't wait!” He then ran off, his gross looking belly jiggling up and down, and drove away.

I kinda felt bad for people like that, that actually believe that sort of thing…what am I saying? We're the ones going to a fortune teller for help. I just really hoped she was legit then.

We walked in and found that the interior was nicely decorated, completely different from the outside. Shiny wooden floors, a chandelier, and LED lights hanging from the walls. All of that surrounded a crystal ball in the center. Within a few seconds a woman dressed in a typical fortune teller outfit appeared from a curtain in the back.

“What does the future hold for you two today? Let's find out,” she said with an ominous tone to her voice.

“Actually we're not here to get our fortunes told. We need your help.”

“What do you mean? She asked, dropping the ominous tone.

“Well my husband here is a victim to a body swapping spell gone wrong.” I showed her the book, flipping to the page.

“Oh my,” she said with a concerned look on her face. “This is very powerful magic indeed.”

“But how do we reverse it?”

“I don't know for sure. But the victim should try to recite it instead.

“Victim? You mean Derek? How would that work?”

“Do not question why things are the way they are. Now go!” She said suddenly. With that, we hurried back home to recite the spell.

“Ok how do I do this now?” Derek asked.

“Just recite the spell, and focus on a picture of us.” He recited the incantation.

“Nothing happened…how was it last time?”

“Same as this time. I guess it took awhile to take effect. What should we do in the meantime?” He didn't reply, but instead stared at himself in the mirror.

“You know, now that this face actually has a brain behind it, it's actually kinda hot.” He then walked over to me and got real close. I'd never been intimidated by Derek before for obvious reasons, but this time I couldn't help but feel dominated by his brawny self.

“The spell picked this guy because you thought he was so hot didn't it? That's gotta be it.” He said with a low voice.

“Y-yeah. I admit it. He seemed dumb at the library but hey, he was a hunk.”

“And now I'm that hunk.” He started feeling all around his body again. He then glanced at his dick and began to stroke it. I knew exactly where this was going and I was all for it.

“Well then Mr. Muscle Hunk, why don't you show off that body a bit more?”

“I'd like nothing more…but I'm gonna go shower first. Who knows where this guy's been?”

“Yeah good idea. I'll be in the room.”

I was so excited! This was gonna be the hottest thing ever! I headed toward the closet to find something sexy to put on. Suddenly I felt a bit dizzy. I noticed my skin seemed to be glowing somehow. Within seconds it turned ghostly white, and then became so bright, it hurt to look at. Why was I glowing? It seemed to be just my body though, nothing was happening to my clothes. As quickly as it came, the glowing stopped and the dizziness returned. I didn't have time to see what happened, because as soon as the glow stopped I lost my balance and fell onto the nearby chair.

My clothes felt incredibly tight, but it wasn't long before I realized why. I was fat! My shirt didn't even fit over my large belly. My pants must've popped a button as my gut hung over them. I tried to get up but the weight of my gut kept pushing me backwards. How do fat guys even do this?

When I finally got up and onto my feet, I rushed to the mirror, my hanging belly flopping up and down. My face looked familiar…oh shit. I was that guy we saw at the fortune teller's! Did the spell do this? How did this happen?!

I heard the shower stop, meaning Derek was going to meet me here any minute now. I couldn't believe the hottest night of my life was about to be ruined! Why did this have to happen?

The door opened and there he was, standing there in a pair of briefs. They were always a little big on him, but with his new body, they were pretty tight. It looked like he shaved his head too. He stared at me, at first he looked shocked but then his expression changed. Was that a look of lust?

“So the spell did something to you too?”

“Yeah…look at me! I'm a mess!” I jiggled my flabby moobs to prove my point.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“It's not so bad.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean…well you know how you said I look hot like this? And that the spell probably made me like this for that reason?”

“Yeah. What are you getting at…wait.”

“Mhm.” He mumbled with a sexy smirk.

“Y-you think I'm hot like this?!" He got real close and started making out with me. It was the most intense make out session I'd ever had. The feeling of his thick mustache rubbing against my face was a sensation I would've never expected could feel so good.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yep,” I said with a smirk.

#strangemaleswaps #male tf #male body swap #weight gain #body swap

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