#even if it's supposed to help with pain and sleep

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Feeling lonely, hm?”

The hero didn’t burden their head with turning towards the voice. They weren’t in the mood for cruel charades.

Instead, they stared at the TV they hadn’t turned on in over a month and debated if not showing up at work would cause any huge conflicts.

Probably.

They closed their eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me,” the villain’s voice purred. “Me.”

“You’re not real, so it’s my obligation to ignore you,” the hero said. They stared at their hands and couldn’t help but feel like their physique had changed. They didn’t seem to be as muscular as before. They didn’t seem all that healthy either.

“Not real, huh?” The villain walked towards the hero’s armchair and let themselves drop lazily. “Now that’s a bit unfair.”

“Yeah,” the hero said. They stared at the coffee table with the empty coffee mug. “Some things have been pretty unfair.”

“I thought you were supposed to ignore me.”

“R-right.” The hero looked away and once again, their heart got quite heavy. They couldn’t sleep at night, that was one of the more annoying things. Eating was also difficult, working was…unbearable. They couldn’t think straight.

And above all those hallucinations…their eyes went back to the villain who was stretching in their chair.

Usually, those hallucinations made one mistake. Or better, that part of the hero’s brain that was responsible, made a mistake. Mischaracterising the villain in such a way that the entire illusion shut down entirely.

The hero hadn’t told their doctors about their imaginary nemesis. But that was mainly because the hero would probably not be allowed to work as a superhero for a few weeks.

They clenched their fists, dug their fingernails into their own flesh.

“You look troubled,” the villain said. “Are you eating enough? You’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine,” the hero whispered back. They looked up at the ceiling.

“You miss me.” Every single time. The hallucination said that every single time. The hero turned their gaze towards the villain’s image and stared.

“Yes, I do. So what?”

“Most people feel some sense of accomplishment after beating their enemies,” the villain said. They put one of their thighs on the other. “And two months is quite enough time to find a new enemy worth your time.”

The hero’s eyes widened.

“I don’t want someone else. And I…technically, I didn’t defeat you. I didn’t kill you, I didn’t arrest you. You just…” The hero’s throat burnt like acid and their bottom lip trembled. “…you just died.”

They swallowed the pain and leaned forward.

“Just wish I could’ve said goodbye,” they mumbled. This time, the hallucination didn’t answer. “That wasn’t fair. Our relationship didn’t deserve that end.”

“I didn’t think you’d care about the end,” the villain said.

“Isn’t the end the most important part?” the hero asked. The taste on their tongue was extremely bitter and they knew it didn’t come from the coffee they had finished an hour ago. “Either way, you are haunting me. So, I guess once again I get the worst of it all. You got the easy way out. As always.”

“Haunting you?”

“Yeah.”

“You must really like me, then,” the villain said. They chuckled sweetly, like they had whenever the hero was embarrassing themselves. For some reason, the pit in the hero’s stomach grew, that unsettling feeling spread.

The hallucination had never been cruel enough to laugh. It was such a wonderful sound that even the hero’s lips curved into a smile.

“Yeah, can you blame me? I must’ve fallen a few months ago.” Suddenly, the hallucination was quiet again.

Their eyes met and for a second, the hero swore it was the real villain in front of them. They tilted their head.

“You never mentioned that.”

“Too afraid of rejection, I suppose,” the hero answered. They shrugged. “Any rejection would have been better than this, though.”

The hallucination got up from the chair and slowly walked to the couch where the hero was sitting on.

“I would have never rejected you, you dense…” The hallucination was even capable of blushing. The hero frowned. “Whatever.”

Ultimately, the illusion grabbed them, sat down on the hero’s lap and kissed them.

It took the hero a few more seconds to realise what was really happening.

[greenxgloss]

Could you do one where the reader is pregnant and yoongi is just helping her through the pains, like nausea, throwing up, idk like bad stomach aches etc…

Thank you!!!!!

A/n: i would be soooo happy to continue writing for this au if you have more requests for it but ngl i was drawing a blank with this one bc i have as much knowledge about pregnancy as my HS parenting class and google gave me lmao i also idk ive never really thought about or fantasized about being pregnant with someone so i dont really know like... what to fantasize about??? ig? idk but this being said ill still write this au if requested esp because this was so short and i feel so bad abt it

Pregnancy, Panic, and Yoongi’s Patience

Pairing: FatherToBe!Yoongi x Pregnant!Reader Summary: In the quiet chaos of early pregnancy, you battle morning sickness and bizarre cravings while Yoongi proves, in every tender and tired moment, that love—and his steady presence—makes it all a little easier to bear. Themes: Y/n getting emotional and morning sickness, Yoongi literally being the cutest dad-to-be, fluffy fluff Word Count: 1.4k

You weren’t sure what woke you first—the nausea creeping up your throat like a bad secret, or the gentle weight of Yoongi’s hand resting protectively on your belly, half-asleep and instinctual even in slumber.

The answer didn’t really matter. You were up. And unfortunately, so was your stomach.

You shuffled as quietly as you could out of bed, hoping to make it to the bathroom without waking him. You almost succeeded, too—until your foot caught the edge of the hallway rug and the smallest gasp slipped past your lips.

A moment later, you heard sheets rustle behind you.

“Y/N?” His voice was low, husky with sleep. “Bathroom?”

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on kneeling over the toilet and regretting everything you’d eaten the day before.

Then, quietly: “Yeah.”

A beat passed. Then soft footsteps padded behind you, followed by a hand gathering your hair back and another gently resting on your spine.

“Third time this week,” Yoongi murmured, squatting next to you with a yawn. “Your stomach’s got terrible taste.”

You let out a weak laugh as you wiped your mouth. “Don’t talk about our child like that.”

“Fair.” He brushed his fingers lightly over your temple, the way he always did when he wasn’t sure how else to help. “You okay? Want water?”

You nodded, curling against the cool tile wall as he disappeared and returned a moment later with a glass of water and a cold washcloth.

“Your hands are warm,” you muttered as he dabbed your forehead. “Feels nice.”

“I read somewhere it’s supposed to help.” He sat on the floor next to you, his legs crossed, sleep still in his eyes but heart fully awake. “Not that Google’s been that useful. Every site says something different. One said ginger tea, one said crackers, one said essential oils… I might just get you all three.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “You’re trying too hard.”

“Trying just enough.” He tilted his head to rest against yours. “You’re growing a person. I can grow into a husband who Googles too much.”

You smiled tiredly, stomach still in knots but heart slowly settling. He smelled like sleep and laundry detergent, his hoodie soft against your cheek. There was no miracle fix for morning sickness—but having him here like this, solid and gentle and yours, made it feel a little more survivable.

“You should go back to sleep,” you whispered.

Yoongi shook his head. “You’re not going through this alone.”

And for the first time that morning, something in you relaxed.

Even if your body was turning against you, even if the days ahead would be filled with more discomfort and nausea and crying for no reason—you had this.

You had him.

And somehow, that made all the difference.

-

After brushing your teeth and drinking water, you sat on the couch, Yoongi insisting on making you breakfast while you rested.

You were curled up, wrapped in one of Yoongi’s oversized hoodies and swaddled in the fluffiest blanket he could find. The early morning sun was still a shy glow behind the curtains, casting a soft amber hue across the living room. Yoongi was in the kitchen making toast—the only thing you could even think about stomaching right now—but your eyes weren’t on the food.

They were on him.

Your husband. Quiet and focused, hair a bit messy, sleeves pushed up as he hovered over the toaster like it was a mission from the gods. The way he moved—gentle, unhurried, careful—like the whole world might shatter if he didn’t get it right… it undid you.

By the time he walked over, balancing the plate and a glass of water in one hand, you were already blinking too fast, heart caught in your throat.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching beside you, setting the plate on the table. “Still nauseous?”

You nodded, then shook your head. “It’s not that.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicked to your face, concern washing over him instantly. “What is it? Do you need—”

You cut him off with a shaky breath. “No—it’s nothing bad. I just…” Your voice caught as tears welled up, thick and sudden. “You’re just… really good to me.”

He blinked, confused for half a second. Then he moved. Quietly, without a word, he sank onto the couch beside you and pulled you into his arms.

And that’s when it broke.

You buried your face in his hoodie, tears slipping silently down your cheeks, soft and overwhelmed and grateful in a way words couldn’t hold.

“I’m just… so happy,” you whispered. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. I didn’t know I’d get someone like you.”

Yoongi’s hand slid up your back, warm and grounding. “You’re scaring me a little,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “But also… I think I know what you mean.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face. “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

Something in his expression shifted—surprise first, then something deeper. His eyes softened, full of something almost shy. “Yeah?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You nodded, smiling through tears. “I already see it. The way you talk to the baby, the way you take care of me. You’re patient, and kind, and…” You sniffled. “God, I’m a mess.”

He chuckled gently, brushing a thumb under your eye. “You’re not a mess. You’re just really pregnant and really loved.”

That made you laugh, and cry a little more, and then curl back into his arms.

Yoongi kissed the crown of your head, resting his chin there. “I don’t have it all figured out yet,” he murmured, “but I’ll show up. Every day. For you and for them. That I can promise.”

And in the quiet, wrapped up in his arms with the morning light growing warmer, you believed him.

You didn’t need perfection. You just needed this. The kind of love that stays.

“Yoongi,” you said, completely serious, eyes locked with his like you’d just discovered the solution to world peace. “I need pickles.”

Yoongi didn’t even blink from where he was folding laundry on the bed. “Okay. Pickles I can do.”

You paused dramatically. “But also… chocolate frosting.”

This time he blinked. Slowly. “Like, as a dip?”

You nodded solemnly, rubbing your belly as if that might lend some credibility. “I saw someone do it on TikTok. They said it was life-changing. Sweet and salty. The perfect combo.”

Yoongi set the towel down. “Babe. With all due respect, and from a place of genuine love… that sounds like a crime against food.”

You frowned. “I’m growing a human. I get to commit at least one food crime.”

He sighed, already reaching for his keys. “If we end up in the ER tonight because your stomach rejects your Frankenstein snack, I’m telling the doctor it was your idea.”

—

Ten minutes later, you were at the kitchen counter, pickles in one hand, a tub of frosting in the other, staring at them with almost reverent anticipation. Yoongi leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, watching like you were about to detonate a bomb.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked one last time.

You dipped the pickle into the frosting, eyes narrowing at his doubt. “Watch and learn, Min Yoongi.”

You took a bite.

And immediately gagged.

Yoongi didn’t even try to hide the slow, victorious smirk spreading across his face. “Oh no, baby. What happened to life-changing?”

You spit the offending combo into a napkin, dramatically slumping onto the counter. “It betrayed me.”

He chuckled, walking over to rub soothing circles on your back. “Told you it sounded like a war crime.”

“It was supposed to be sweet and salty,” you mumbled miserably. “Instead it was… cursed.”

Yoongi kissed your temple, grinning. “Let’s just stick to normal weird stuff, okay? Like orange juice and cereal. Or hot Cheetos and yogurt.”

“I never said I was gonna stop trying weird stuff,” you said, voice muffled into the counter. “Next week might be tuna and jelly.”

“Absolutely not,” he said instantly. “I draw the line at seafood and fruit spreads.”

You giggled, turning to look at him, feeling your heart soften as he cleaned up your failed experiment without complaint.

“You still love me, right?”

He looked at you like the question offended him. “Of course. Even if you try to poison yourself with snack choices.”

And when he kissed you, quick and sweet, you made a mental note: no more pickle-frosting disasters. But also… maybe he was onto something with the cereal and OJ.

Maybe.

➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ Kpop Masterlist ➽ G-Dragon Masterlist ➽ Buy Me a Coffee

[holylulusworld]

Haunted House Vol. 2

Summary: You’re not new to things happening in your house.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: haunted house, fluff, naughtiness

A/N: This one-shot is connected to this story with Steve x Reader: House Hunting

“Barnes, what are you doing here?” You sigh deeply as one of your team members stands in front of your door, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

For months, you managed to keep your team members from invading your personal space. This means that you told them you’re busy renovating your house and cannot accept any visitors at the moment.

The truth is, you wanted to lick your wounds after a bad breakup.

Watching Steve and his doll get all cozy all the damn time didn’t help you get over your broken heart.

One haunted house event, and Steve stopped to chicken out and asked his doll out. They are stinking cute together, but it pains you to be around a happy couple when your relationship just ended.

“We have a plumbing problem at the tower. Everyone has a place to stay. I thought I could bunker at your place for a few nights. I brought snacks,” Bucky grins when you look at the bag of chips he was hiding in his jacket.

“Fine, come in, Barnes. But if you touch my expensive shampoo, you are a dead man,” you warn him before inviting Bucky in. “The guestroom is upstairs, at the end of the hallway, but be warned…sometimes my house is a bit crazy.”

“Be warned?” He furrows his brows. “Crazy? What’s that supposed to mean? What are you hiding within these walls?”

“You see, this house is kind of…haunted.” You shrug when Bucky gapes at you. “What? Wizards and time travel exist, but ghosts don’t. After all you have seen and encountered, you still cannot believe in ghosts?”

“I didn’t say that.” He huffs and looks around the house. Bucky is unsure if he wants to stay in a haunted house. He’s carrying his own ghosts from the past around and doesn’t need new ones to join them. “I was wondering why in the world you want to live in a haunted house! Why would you buy it?”

“Duh, I didn’t know it was haunted before I moved in,” you try to explain that before you settled in, there was no sign of ghosts. “It all started after yet another awful date. I talked to Yelena and Natasha after I left the restaurant, and the idiot behind me. That night, when I tried to sleep, a voice was calling my name.”

“What?” Bucky drops his duffle bag to get a knife out. “Okay, where is the culprit? Show me where they are hiding.”

“Buck, I don’t think the ghost will be scared by a knife.” You laugh, but your heart flutters because Bucky moves in front of you when you hear the voice again. “Fucker! I’ll get you! Here, take this and wait for me.” He hands you a second knife; you don’t even see him get it out of his jacket.

“What? Bucky, ignore them!” You groan as Bucky starts searching your house. “I started ignoring them a long time ago. They are less annoying now.”

Bucky doesn’t listen. The super-soldier is determined to find and kill the ghost. He’s got no clue how to defeat a ghost, but he’ll find a way. For your sake.

“Barnes, it’s not that bad,” you sigh and sit down on your couch. “Oh, he left his shit…unattended.” You snicker because Bucky left his snacks and duffle bag behind to chase a ghost around your house. You grab his snacks, open the bag, and start munching on the chips. “Bucky! Come back down. It’s no use. I tried anything to get rid of that annoying bitch. I told you to ignore them.”

“No!” Bucky grunts from upstairs. “There’s…hmm…” He rummages around your bedroom; you can hear his heavy steps, and then, a loud bang.

“Bucky! What are you doing?” You yell, knowing he must’ve destroyed something inside your bedroom. “I’m warning you, Barnes!”

“Uh—” He chuckles. “I punched the wall…but it’s not that bad. The dent is almost…invisible.”

“Invisible like the ghost or like the hole you punched into the gym wall by accident?” You mutter and curse Bucky’s existence. “You know, the ghost did much less damage to my house.”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He moves back downstairs, grumbling while looking in every nook. You watch him with curiosity as he tries to hunt the supernatural creature sharing your home down.

“Barnes, come on. It’s getting late, and I don’t want people to believe you are crazy,” you groan, watching Bucky storm back into your living room looking like a lunatic, or a man on a mission. You’re not sure.

“They talked to me,” he sounds…scared. No, not scared. Unsure, confused maybe?

“What did they say? Did they tell you to find me a boyfriend too?” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “That bitch won’t leave me alone. Since that night I told you about, they have been telling me to get laid or find a nice guy.”

“They want you to date?” Bucky stares at you in shock. “That’s…all?” He looks around the living room, hearing the voice call your name.

“Yeah, something like that. The least they could do is get me off while they are telling me to get laid.” He snorts at your comment. “What? It’s true. In the movies, the girls always get fucked good by the naughty ghost.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. He clears his throat and tries to ignore the voice telling him to kiss you and make out. “What the fuck is going on here? Pack some things; you’re coming with me!”

“Where do you want to go in the middle of the night, Barnes?” You get up from your couch to pat his chest. “It’s fine. They are only naughty when you react to their nonsense. Relax. They won’t harm you.”

“They told me to dick you down, Y/N! That’s not funny!” Bucky purses his lips. “You’ve got a naughty demon living in your house.”

“And imagine, I still don’t get laid,” you huff and throw your hands up. “For months they have been haunting me, but there’s no guy in sight.”

“What am I, a sack of potatoes?” Bucky cocks his head. “Last time I checked, I was a guy.”

“Yeah, but you’re… Bucky,” you snicker when he makes a face. “What? Do you want me to jump your bones because you’re available?”

“I want you to jump my bones because you want me the way I want you!” You both gasp at his admission. You look at him, smiling like an idiot. “What I tried to tell you is that I should take you out for dinner tonight to get away from this horror house.”

“FINALLY!” The voice screams, and then your house is silent for the first time in months.

“I think you’re right!” You grab Bucky’s hand to flee out of your house with him. You’ll spend the night at a hotel, just to be sure the ghost will leave you alone…

“Finally,” Yelena huffs while removing the next camera and microphone from your house. “Another accomplished mission.”

“You mean another matchmaking job, well done,” Tony grins at her. “What? Buckethead needs to get laid, and so does Y/N. We matched Steve and his doll, and now Buckethead and Y/N. We are a dream team.”

“In. Your. Dreams,” Yelena grunts. “No more matchmaking!”

“Come on, one last time,” Tony tries to break her resolve. “They are all clueless puppies and need guidance.”

“Fine, one more job,” she agrees. “So…who do you want to set up this time?”

[milzone]

kiss you right | l.hj

SYNOPSIS: There’s only one reason why you’d call Hyunjae this late at night, and it was always because of your asshole boyfriend. He’s sick of it. And as your best friend, he knew he had to do something about it.

CONTENT WARNING: fingering, cheating!!, dacryphilia, biting, best friend lhj, he might be a bit obsessive and crazy, all the men in your life are red flags :(

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

A/N: sorry for the long wait! i didn’t like how my first draft turned out so i had to rewrite everything from start to finish </3. tbh, i feel like i couldve also done better with this one but I feel like I've been putting this off for too long sooo.. anw this isn't beta read!

P.S. this was supposed to be cute and sweet but i cant help it !! (is it obvious i have a type)

It’s two in the morning when Hyunjae wakes from the ringing of his phone. It was you calling, of course, and there’s only one reason why you’d call at this time. Despite his body’s unwillingness to move, he forces himself to sit up and reach for his phone on the nightstand.

“Hello?” he answers, groggy from sleep. His voice is rough and his throat feels parched, but he forces himself to speak. 

“Jae…”

The tone of your voice told him all he had to know, confirming his earlier suspicions. It was your boyfriend again, what else would he expect? You probably saw that dick at a bar with another girl and you needed Hyunjae’s comfort as your best friend.

Again. 

“Do you want me to come over?” He asks, already standing up from his bed and heading over to the door. Hyunjae hears your sniffles through the phone as he swipes his motorcycle keys off the kitchen counter, tossing a leather jacket over his figure and slipping his feet into his shoes.

“Please?”

Hyunjae finds you swaddled in blankets when he enters your room, eyes puffy as tears run down your face. Even when you’re like this — sad and crying, he can’t help but think how beautiful you still looked. With your long, pretty lashes wet from tears and your pink lips swollen and red from the constant biting — to Hyunjae, you looked almost perfect.

He almost wished you'd never have another good day in your life.

Gently, Hyunjae calls out your name, taking slow and steady steps over to your bed. You don’t make any sign of acknowledging him as he sits next to you, keeping his silence. He patiently waits for you to say something first, pulling you into a hug as you cry into his chest.

This occurrence was something like a routine for the both of you.

It came natural to him to come over to your place, see you cry, and to comfort you. It was the same old thing over and over again. But weirdly enough, Hyunjae didn’t mind. In fact, he quite liked this little arrangement — liked that he could see up close how your face beautifully contorted as you cried to him. 

Call him crazy or sadistic, but the way tears rolled down your face had always turned him on. Hyunjae found it hot when you’d heave and the breath got stuck in your throat, almost as if you were choking. He likes when you cling to him, scratching his back and biceps as he whispered in your ear. It’s sick how he fantasizes about you when he gets home — stroking his cock to the little sounds you made when you cry, but is it really his fault when you were just... so cute?

If only it wasn’t your boyfriend that made you cry. If only it was him. If only he could make you cry of pleasure and pain.

“I-I saw him with someone else again… at a bar.” You mumble, eyes distant as your hands gripped Hyunjae’s shirt. Seeing as you’ve calmed down enough to talk, Hyunjae pulls you closer and lets you lay your head on his thigh, stroking your hair as you tell him whatever the fuck your boyfriend did wrong again. “It was a different girl from last time.”

“Of course it is. You never learn, don’t you?” It slips out of his mouth before he realizes, and it takes Hyunjae a minute to compose himself before he meets your eyes once again. Only when he sees the tears brimming the corners of your eyes did he recognize his mistake, quick to console you. “Wait, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you cut him off with a sigh, “you’re right, Jae. I really never learn. No matter how many times he breaks my heart, I still come running back to him.”

You cover your eyes with your arm, too afraid to see what face Hyunjae was making at your confession. “Even now, I still miss him. I mean… he was my first, you know? A-and he treated me well.” Feeling shameful, you turn away from your best friend’s figure, cheeks red as you curl yourself into a ball. Despite how embarrassed you feel with admitting that fact to your best friend, it was true. Younghoon took all your firsts, from being your first boyfriend, first kiss, and to your first fuck.

He took all of it.

That’s why it hurt so much when you saw him with another girl the first time. After that incident, he started being hot and cold. Younghoon was confusing. If he wanted something from you, he’d be all sweet and clingy, like when the both of you were new lovers. But after that, he’d be cold again, and you’d catch him out somewhere with a woman clinging to his side.

It was pathetic that you still wanted him with how many times you’ve fought from catching him red-handed — pathetic that even if he already wanted to break up, you kept clinging to him like a leech.

“Is that it..?” Hyunjae whispers, and a beat passes before you could bring yourself to answer.

‘What do you mea—”

“Is that really the only reason? Because he’s good at sex? Baby, of course he is. He’s good ‘cause he fucks everyone!”

“Jae, of course it’s not just—”

“Shit!” Hyunjae runs a hand over his hair, tossing you into the middle of your bed as he slips himself in between your legs. He pins you under his arms, bangs falling over his eyes as he stares you down. As your cheeks flush a rosy red from the proximity, you can’t deny the heat that ran through your body from the way he manhandled you. This side of him was unfamiliar, something that you’ve never seen before, but despite that, you didn’t feel scared.

You felt excited.

But you know you should push him away.

So you put your palm on his chest, trying to push him away but he doesn’t budge.

“Don’t you know how many times I had to hold myself back from pouncing on you like this?” You feel his breath fan over your lips, so close that just one wrong move and your lips would meet. “Don’t you know how hard it was to control myself — to stop myself from pinning you to this bed and fucking you till I can’t tell night from day?”

Your breath hitches in your throat from Hyunjae’s sudden confession, shocked as you stared back at his hooded eyes swirling with want and lust. The feelings of nervousness and excitement pounded in your heart, quickly forgetting about what it is you were crying about. All that ran through your mind right now was the man in front of you and the way he looked at you as if he could devour you whole.

Hyunjae shifts his head to the side of your neck, nose tickling your skin as he inhales your scent. His knee shifts closer to your core, hands sliding up your waist and teasing just beneath your chest

When you feel his lips kiss along the shell of your ear, your breath hitches, spine tingling with anticipation. This feeling was all too new to you. Never in your whole two years with Younghoon did he ever make you feel this way — this zoo running rampant in your stomach, this heat spreading all throughout your body, and the wetness between your legs.

Yes, Younghoon turned you on, but he never got you this wet and wanting — never had your toes curling and fists clenching your bedsheets from just a kiss.

“Tell me you want me,” he whispers, “and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give all of myself to you.”

The warmth of his hand slipping under your shirt elicits a gasp from your lips as you instinctively put a hand between the both of you, but despite you pushing on his chest, Hyunjae doesn’t move an inch. His bangs fall over your face as he continues to stare you down with lust, eyes dark as he waits for a signal, itching to finally move his hand and touch you like he did in dreams.

Although he technically still had to hold back so as to not scare you off, Hyunjae was already happy that he was even given a chance. This kind of scenario was one he never even thought would be happening in real life. He was convinced that you'd never even take a glance his way when you were so blinded with your (soon-to-be) ex-boyfriend. But here he was now in reality, relishing the feel of your smooth skin under his fingertips.

Once you say yes, Hyunjae will make it his life’s mission to fuck you so thoroughly you’d forget you were even in a relationship in the first place. He’d do you so, so well that you’d want to be his instead.

It’s when his fingers slowly trace over the tattoo right under your left chest that you finally speak, out of breath as you pull him closer by his shirt. The temptation in his lips, the lust in his eyes, and the hint of desperation in his voice was all it took to entice you. Like a man at sea to a mermaid's song, he lured you in.

“Yes, please just — fuck! I want you, Jae. I want you so so ba—”

Hyunjae doesn’t give you a chance to finish your sentence when he smashes his lips onto yours, selfish in taking each of your breaths for himself. He lets his greed consume him, pouring all the years of longing for you into this first kiss.

Ever since the day he first laid eyes on you back in high school, he knew it was over for him — knew that he just had to have you. But that stupid fuck just had to step in and ruin everything with his playboy charm, and little ol’ you were just quick to fall for Younghoon’s tricks.

With each bite, kiss, and suck on your neck, Hyunjae lets his jealousy overflow, painting splotches of red, blue, and violet all over your skin. When you gasp in pain, squirming in discomfort, he doesn’t stop, blinded by his selfish desires. You should’ve known Hyunjae was a greedy man — should’ve known that if you let him, he’d take and take and take.

He’ll take all that you can give him until you were wholly his. Be it mind, body, heart, and soul.

As Hyunjae’s lips creep lower and lower, his slender fingers find purchase onto the waistband of your pajamas, making quick work of it as he tosses the garment somewhere in your room. He presses a kiss below your navel before capturing your lips once more, heedless in the way he bites your lip and lets his teeth clash with yours. It was a kiss that only knew how to consume — a kiss that held years of want and desperation.

Hyunjae was unkind with his ways, unfair when he cups your heat and presses his fingers over the wet spot on the fabric of your panties. The smirk on his face was undeniable, you feel it in the way the corner of his lips curl upward when he steals one last peck. You were so turned on by him that it was almost embarrassing. You shouldn’t even be doing this when you're still committed, but once again, Hyunjae steals your attention away when he pushes your panties to the side and inserts a finger. The sudden intrusion catches you off guard, an uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach.

“W-wait, ah!” your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts another in. The stretch makes you squirm, the feeling almost unfamiliar with how long it’s been since you’ve had something bigger than your fingers in. Hyunjae looks at you from underneath his lashes, observing the way you’d react from each press and thrust of his hand. It almost looks as if he’s in his own world, drunk on the image of you laying beneath him.

Hyunjae’s pace starts off slow, each push of his finger careful and calculated as if testing the waters. When he sees a good response, he continues and when he senses a bad reaction, he finds a better technique. This continuous push and pull and his attention to detail earns him the realization that you liked it deep. You liked it when he plunges his digits to the knuckles and when his fingers tease your clit — like when he whispers the dirtiest and most vile things in your ear.

“You like that? Like when I fuck you with my fingers on the bed you share with your boyfriend?” a devilish smile plasters itself on his face when he feels your walls throb around his fingers, surprised by what just came out of his mouth. “Bet you’ve thought of it when you have sex with him. Have you moaned my name in front of him before, baby? Come on, say my name.”

“J-Jaehyun…” you choke out, but he doesn’t seem satisfied. With mischief sparkling in his eyes, Hyunjae curls his finger upward in a beckoning motion, hitting that one specific spot deep inside you that sends electricity rushing through your body. 

“That’s not what you call me, angel, you know that.” his breath tickles your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Call me by the name you gave me.”

“A-ah, Hyunjae!” satisfied, he quickened his pace, hitting that one good spot over and over again. In the span of minutes, Hyunjae already knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew what made you feel good, the right pace, the right pressure, and the right words to say to get you off.

You’d even go as far to say he knew you better than Younghoon ever did.

Hyunaje’s fingers curl ever so slightly every time he thrusts the length of his fingers in you, pressing on that gummy spot inside your walls. Each moan that he pulls from your lips had him feeling giddy, forcing him to bite his lip to hide the growing smirk on his face.

“So good to me, baby. You gonna come? Gonna come for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck—Jae..!”

And with one last thrust, your climax comes to you in a flash of white light, back arching into your best friend’s chest as he rides out your high, fingers circling your clit and lips pressing gentle kisses over your collarbone. It takes a minute for you to settle down, but Hyunjae waits patiently, gently massaging your thighs and waist as he cooed sweet nothings in your ear.

In the corner of your eye, you see him take the two digits he used on you in his mouth, sucking off the fluids from his hand. The taste of you on his tongue elicits a groan from his throat, sending shivers down your spine.

“You good?” he asks, smoothing both his hands over your body, “We could stop here if you want—”

“No!” it’s the way Hyunjae jolts that you realize your overreaction, and if you weren’t already blushing from what happened earlier, then you are now. God, if only a hole could open from the ground and swallow you whole right now. This might just be the most embarrassing moment of your life!

To make it worse, Hyunjae wasn’t even saying anything, he’s only staring at you with eyes wide like saucers. “I-I mean no… Let’s keep going, please?”

He chuckles, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“That’s my girl.”

[dayasfilms]

Chapter Two - Crime Scene

Summary: You join Nancy and Fred in their investigation at the trailer park.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Y/N, mentions of blood and death

Word Count: 2.2k

Note: We’re getting closer to knowing more about the reader’s backstory. If you have any theories, I would love to hear them! Feel free to send them through my inbox. I’d really appreciate some feedback so please send something in!!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

Red. Blood. Gunshots. Fire.

It came out of nowhere.

The girl tried to run, tried to scream for help, but no one heard her. Strong arms grabbed her. A sharp prick in her neck. A syringe filled with something that numbed her limbs and blurred her vision.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

She woke up in a cold, empty room. Tied to a chair. She couldn’t move. Her head spun, her vision distorted. Muffled voices drifted in. She heard screaming–

You jolted awake.

Cold sweat coated your skin. Your breathing was ragged. You ran a trembling hand through your damp hair, wincing as a pounding headache throbbed behind your eyes. Groaning, you rubbed small circles into your temples, but the pain didn’t go away.

With a quiet curse, you pushed yourself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and rummaging through the cabinet for painkillers.

The house was quiet. It was still early. Karen and Holly were asleep upstairs, and Ted had already left for work after dropping Mike off at the airport. Nancy had mentioned she’d be at the school early, despite it being spring break, to write about the basketball game, but she’d be back before lunch.

You sipped the water, trying to shake away the headache. You know you couldn’t go back to sleep anymore.

You took a cold and long shower, hoping to wash away all of the thoughts. After getting dressed, you headed downstairs, flipping on the TV to distract yourself.

Slumped on the couch, you absentmindedly fiddled with the necklace Steve gave you that one Christmas. Even after all these months, you still wore it, tucked under your shirt, always hidden but never forgotten.

Then your head snapped up.

“We can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning.”

Your heart dropped and eyes widened.

Your first thought was Nancy. You had no one to talk to about this. Panic surged in your chest. You grabbed your car keys from the hook and rushed out the door. You had to make sure she was okay.

For the first time in months, you drove your old car. You sped to Hawkins High, your mind racing just as fast. As you parked and made your way to the entrance, you spotted Nancy and Fred walking out of the building, both startled to see you.

“What are you doing here?” Nancy asked.

“I saw the news,” you said quickly. “I needed to make sure you were okay. I didn’t see you this morning.”

Nancy’s expression softened. “Oh God, Y/N. I’m fine, I promise.” She exchanged a glance with Fred. “We just saw the news too, and we were actually on our way to the scene now.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossing. “You do know that’s not allowed, right?”

Nancy gave you a sheepish grin, briefly forgetting that your mom was a federal agent and you were a law student. “I–We know. But no one’s giving us information, and I need to write this story.”

You sighed. “I get it, Nance. But is it really smart to meddle in a crime scene?”

“We’re not meddling,” Fred chimed in. “We’re just…gathering facts.”

“That’s literally the same thing,” you deadpanned.

Nancy stepped in. “Look, the police know you. They trust you. And you’ll be with us the whole time.”

You stared at her. Then glanced at your car. There was no changing Nancy’s mind.

“Fine,” you muttered, gesturing for them to follow you. “Let’s go.”

Nancy hopped into the passenger seat while Fred got in the back. You took a steadying breath before driving off.

“So,” Fred piped up, trying to break the silence. “When you and Jonathan investigated for the Hawkins Post…did you two ever split up?”

Nancy gave him a look. “Okay, first of all, you’re not Jonathan.”

“Clearly not,” he said with a shrug. “I’m here. Present and accounted for.”

You arched a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jonathan–”

“Nothing,” Nancy interrupted quickly, eyes narrowing at him. “I’ve dealt with a lot of managing editors, okay?”

“Ooh. Somebody’s testy,” Fred smirked. “Curious.”

Nancy let out a sharp breath. “I’m annoyed he’s not here. Is that what you want to hear? Something’s going on with him. But that’s not the mystery we’re investigating today.”

Jonathan was supposed to visit for spring break with you. You both knew he bailed, using the excuse that he was waiting on his college acceptance letter. He didn’t tell you much, but it still didn’t sit right with you.

“A student is dead. The game plan is for you to let Y/N and I do the talking. You take notes. Follow our lead at all times. Is that understood?”

“Totally and completely,” Fred said with a mock salute. Then his eyes widened. “Shit. Slow down.”

You eased off the gas and made a right turn into the trailer park. Police cars were everywhere, and the road was blocked.

“Just act casual,” you told them.

“And follow your lead,” Fred echoed. “Got it.”

You pulled up beside the barricade and rolled down your window. “Hi, officer.”

The cop stepped forward, hand resting on the car door. “Can’t get through. Crime scene.”

You gave him a nervous smile. “Yeah, um…we were just going to see Max Mayfield. She lives here.”

Nancy and Fred both nodded along.

“We’re restricting access to residents only,” the cop said.

“It’s just that, her mom’s at work,” Nancy added. “We just want to check on her.”

“We’re basically her nanny. Er, nannies,” Fred tossed in.

The cop blinked, then frowned. “You okay, kid?”

You and Nancy turned to see Fred pale and staring straight ahead, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Fred?” Nancy said.

There was no response.

“Fred?” You repeated, more urgently.

He didn’t move.

The officer’s brows furrowed. “Hey, kid, you all right?”

Fred finally blinked, touching his face. “What?”

“I said, you all right, kid?” The officer asked. “You’re looking a little peaked.”

“I’m fine,” Fred muttered.

“He’s just…on edge,” Nancy explained quickly. “We all are.”

The cop sighed. “I’ll let you check on your friend, but be fast. Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said, rolling up the window and easing the car forward. Once you were past the barricade, you exhaled sharply. “Okay, what the hell was that? I said act casual.”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Fred wanted to say something but decided against it, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah…sorry.”

You and Nancy exchanged a look, both unsettled.

The three of you went from trailer to trailer, knocking on doors and trying to figure out what had happened to the dead student. But no one wanted to talk. Most of them just slammed their doors in your faces without a word.

You had knocked on Max’s trailer, but no one answered. That meant she wasn’t home. You just hoped she was safe, especially with everything going on.

You still didn’t know who had died, but you noticed the yellow crime scene tape blocking off a trailer at the far end, right across from Max’s. Nancy pointed it out, mentioning that it belonged to Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson’s uncle.

You couldn’t help but think about the other teens, including Lucas, Dustin, and Max. Since getting back, you’d only spoken to Lucas, besides Mike. You hadn’t gotten the chance to check in with the others. You made a mental note to call them after this. You needed to make sure they were okay.

You let out a sigh as Nancy told you and Fred to keep trying a few more trailers. But door after door, the result was the same.

Then suddenly, Nancy spotted a dog. She immediately crouched down to pet it, grinning. “Aww, you’re such a cute little thing,” she cooed.

You smiled too, waving at the dog.

“Hi, did you see anything last night?” Nancy asked in a baby voice. “You wanna tell us everything?”

“Nancy, Y/N, come on,” Fred called out. He looked nervous. “Let’s get out of here.”

You turned toward him. “We’re almost done here, Fred,” you said, but then your eyes locked on a man across from you, just outside the taped-off trailer. “Actually, hold that thought.”

Nancy looked up at you, then glanced at Fred before standing. “Stay here,” she told him, hurrying to follow you.

The two of you approached a man sitting on a picnic table, smoking a cigarette.

“Hi,” you said, catching his attention. He glanced at you both, then looked away again. “We’re friends of Max Mayfield,” you said, gesturing toward her trailer. “You’re Wayne Munson, right? Eddie’s uncle?”

“That’s right,” Wayne replied.

“We heard you were the one who found the body? The neighbors–”

“Like to gossip,” he cut you off. His voice cracked. “And I’m not interested in gossiping no more. Certainly not to reporters.”

Nancy offered a sheepish smile. “What gave us away?” She asked, hands raised slightly.

You and Nancy sat beside him on the table, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

“Look,” Nancy began, “I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Munson. The paper I write for is small. We don’t have the staff to keep up with the big guys. I’m just looking for something, anything really, about what happened last night.”

You admired how sincere she sounded.

“Why?” Wayne asked, glancing at her. “Far as I can tell, you all have it figured out already. My nephew’s a freak, and he killed that girl. Ain’t that about right?”

Nancy sighed. “Let me guess. You’ve been speaking to the Hawkins Post? Chuck Bailey?”

Wayne didn’t answer, but the silence said enough.

“Yeah, I used to work with him,” Nancy added. “That guy doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.”

Wayne smiled faintly, raising an eyebrow in reluctant agreement.

“Let me tell your side of the story,” Nancy said, holding up her notebook.

Wayne looked at you. You gave a small nod and offered him a sympathetic smile. He sighed, looked away, and cleared his throat.

“My nephew, he may look dangerous,” he said quietly. “But he didn’t do this. It ain’t his nature. No matter what anyone says, and they will say things. But this…this wasn’t Eddie. The man who did this, the one who killed that poor girl, he’s pure evil.”

“Man?” You echoed, leaning forward. “Do you have an idea of who it was?”

Wayne nodded slightly, eyes distant. “You ever hear the name Victor Creel?”

You frowned and looked at Nancy. She looked just as puzzled. You both shook your heads.

“I guess you’re too young. But back when I was a kid, everyone knew that name. Victor Creel. Lost his mind. Killed his whole family.”

You and Nancy stared at him, expressions tightening.

“Wife and kids. Took their eyes. Cut ’em right out.”

“God,” Nancy whispered, horrified.

“That poor girl I found this morning?” Wayne added. “Same exact thing. So I’m thinking…maybe he broke out.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Wait. Victor Creel is still alive?”

“Yeah, far as I know,” Wayne said. “He’s still there. That is, unless he broke out. Like that…What’s his name? White mask and killed the babysitters?”

“Michael Myers?” Nancy guessed.

“Yeah. Michael Myers. You ask me, Victor’s like that. He’s a real boogeyman.”

You sat silently for a moment, his words sinking in. This was a lot bigger than you expected.

Then Nancy tugged your hand, snapping you back to the present. She was looking toward the spot Fred had been standing just moments ago. He was now gone.

You both stood up immediately, scanning the area.

“Um, we’ll be right back,” Nancy told Wayne before you both rushed off to find Fred.

The dog from earlier was barking at the trees now, only adding to your growing sense of unease.

“Fred?” You called.

“Fred!” Nancy shouted.

You kept calling his name, but there was no response. No sign of him. Panic rose in your chest. He couldn’t have gone far. You left him right there.

You spent the rest of the day searching, daylight slowly fading into night. You and Nancy had split up, but neither of you had any luck. When you finally met back up, the look on her face told you everything.

“I can’t find him,” she said, voice trembling.

“Me either.”

You were breathing heavily, terrified. One student was already dead, and now Fred was missing.

You two spotted a cop nearby, the same one from earlier, and ran over to him.

“Officer?” Nancy called out shakily. “Officer!”

He turned sharply, clearly annoyed. “What are you still doing here?”

“Our friend from earlier,” she stammered. “We can’t find him.”

“What do you mean?” His expression shifted to concern.

“He was there, and then he was just gone and–” Nancy’s voice broke. You placed a hand on her back, steadying her. “Did you maybe see him leave with someone?”

“I told you kids to go home,” the officer muttered, frustrated. Then he turned away, grabbing his radio. “This is Glenn. We might have a situation here.”

You and Nancy stood frozen, staring at each other. The fear in her eyes mirrored your own. You hoped Fred had just wandered off. That he got lost.

But deep down, you knew something was wrong.

You should’ve stayed with him.

[crazycat010]

What am I even doing?!

Of Shadows and Stardust MASTERLIST

GOJO SATORU X READER part 2

Warnings: mentions of death, fatal car accident, alcohol abuse, slight child abuse, hitting, solitude and loneliness, reader being basically split in half between their normal version and sorcerer version, running away from home, (mostly from memories or brief references).

Word count= 3K+ words

Once again, you were woken up at the first lights by her grumbling. What was the matter with her? Ever since you’d encountered the Second-grade curses a few days ago she had been restless, muttering and blabbering mindlessly in your own mind, making it impossible to concentrate on anything and causing you the worst migraines ever.

“What the heck?! Just Shut up! I’m trying to get all the sleep I lost because of you!” You thought, yelling at her in her mind, frustrated.

“I know what we must do. I figured out a way to solve this problem!” She muttered.

“What problem? What are you talking about?” You started getting out of your bed and preparing a nice warm shower. Perhaps that would ease your senses and bring a little comfort in these painful days.

“You know what I’m referring to, ungrateful child!” She scoffed loudly. “The curses started arriving in masses at the Tokyo Central Elementary School just as you became a teacher there and started going there regularly. It’s a pattern that has been following you  ever since we came in contact…”

“What’s your point?” You asked, utterly confused and completely stressed out by the whole situation. Realization however, was starting to kick in, and soon sadness followed, filling your soul like water in an empty glass.

“You and I both know it’s not a coincidence. You can try to fake it as much as you want, but we’re the problem. We always have been. Wherever we go, we attract curses, like light attracts moths. We both have known for the longest time, but you’ve decided to ignore it. Now that we’ve gotten stronger, we need to take action and do something about it!” She explained. It made sense.

Besides, you’d always known, deep down, you just had never actually acknowledged it.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!” You screamed out loud. You already knew the answer, it was just to painful to admit. How were you supposed to live like that?

“We need to escape, find somewhere quiet and without any people around. We’re threats to all living life.”

“Talk for yourself.” You said, getting under the boiling hot jet of water, trying to suppress all the emotions that were hitting you all at once.

You thought about how you’d gotten to know her.

Turbato pacis, that’s how you referred to her. It meant ‘disturber of the peace’ in Latin, the Ancient language your mother had forced you to learn during high school.

You’d never given your mother enough credit for keeping your family together while working three jobs and taking care of both you and your father for god knows how long, not until it was too late and didn’t matter anymore, anyways.

Something about you had always been different. You remember how you used to win every single street fight you got your stinky ass into with the big mouth of yours. You always wanted to help the defenseless, those whom people chose to tear the eyes away from.That’s how your mother had raised you: a brave warrior that helped the poor, wether it was with food, sweet words, hugs, or punches. You felt kind of like Robin Hood, the main character of your favorite tale. Ever since you’d been first read the story to, you’d been amazed and greatly impressed by the grand gestures of such noble-hearted and gentle man, a kind soul who stole what others didn’t need and, instead of keeping the bounties for his own poor self, he gave them away to those in need, aiding his people in any way possible.

That’s what you dreamt of becoming, a beacon of light in the surrounding darkness, justice in a pool of misery and mischiefs. However, life had many surprises prepared for you, leading you through one bad situation after the other.

Even though you never lost, you always ended up patched up by your furious mother, mad at you for your reckless behavior. You couldn’t help but pick fights with people bigger and stronger than you, which did indeed mean their downfall, but also a broken nose for you, if not worse.

You’d always fought injustice, like your mother had wanted, until the most unjust event happened to the two of you.

You were chatting mindlessly, probably about school, an ice cream in one hand and the other holding your mother, who was skillfully managing to eat her own creamy delight while balancing in her arms three shopping bags and that small black full of scratches leathery backpack of hers, where she kept her most useful belongings, alongside some money and tissues for her daughter. Your father was right behind you, busy checking business stuff on his phone. You waited patiently at the crossroad before the traffic light became green, and then you started crossing the road, as you would normally do.

Nonetheless, it was no normal or ordinary day that one, on which your mother ad been able to convince you to go shopping with her, bribing you with food.

A drunk man had decided he wanted to go outside too that random Thursday evening, and thought, why not have a ride on his new car as well?

Too much liquor in his body, he hadn’t even noticed his pants were missing, so how could he have seen the traffic light turn red at the crossroad? The last thing he saw before ascending to the skies to his long-lost mother were two women, or at least one woman and one woman-to-be, crossing the same road as the one his was driving one, before all went down.

You didn’t have the time to realize it as your mother threw herself on your small figure in a useless attempt to keep you out of harm’s way. You should have died as well, that day, but fate seemed to have other things planned for you.

The car crash was chaotically, to say the least, and it ended with the new red car crashed on a nearby secular tree, two unrecognizable bodies shattered in the middle.

Nevertheless, one of them was the driver’s, as you’d somehow and jumped your way out of the crash.The aftermath was a mix of sorrow, grief and anger driven actions, compelled mostly by your father, who had watched the whole scene unfold right under his very nose, unable to think or react.

You didn’t understand how you’d saved yourself, too shocked from all the events to even try to think hat maybe, there was a connection behind all the mysterious stunts you always pulled whenever danger came your way.

That was until she actually came out, Y/n 2.0, another way you called her.

Out of everyone, understandably, your father was the most stressed out one. He moved frantically, spending his days pacing the living room with a never-ending bottle of beer in his left hand and a picture of your mother in his right one. He couldn’t rest, eat or drink, just like you. However, being the innocent child you were, you didn’t understand what was happening, simply wanting your dada back from crazy-land.

You tried to tell him to calm down, tried to get him to sit down and have dinner with you, but before you knew it, he had dropped the picture of your mother, taken a big gulp of that golden liquid, a small amount of which fell in small droplets on his chin, and swung his big calloused hand aimed for your cheek.

You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the hit, but it never came. Trembling, you opened your eyes to see your father’s eyes wide open in a mix of surprise and alcohol-driven rage and madness. While you covered your face with one hand, the other firmly gripped your father’s forearm, preventing a rather harsh hit.

Panicking, you quickly let go of him and ran upstairs to your bedroom, locking yourself inside and heading to the little sink to wash your face.

As you rinsed it thoroughly and then proceeded to dry it with a dirty cloth. As you did that, you couldn’t help but notice the reflection in the mirror. It was you, as usual, but the ‘other Y/n’ had black eyes, the darkest bag under her eyes and black and green tattoos, that resembled strange figures and terrorizing snakes. Her black hair had stripes of a flashy bright green in it and she wore a black long robe with green and silver accessories, very different from your worn out beige school uniform and plain black hair.

As if it couldn’t get any weirder, the reflection started talking to you.

“Hello Y/n.” It said, with the calmest tone.

You screeched in surprise, not knowing what to do, but still kept your eyes on the mirror, as you tried to learn more about her.

As you were about to discover, she’d always been a part of you, ever since you were born. However, until then, you’d always had control over her, or as she’d say, she kept quiet and didn’t interfere with your life. Nevertheless, she was still a part of your life, helping you during fights for example, but never completely taking over your body. When the incident with your mother had happened, she’s sensed your turmoil and knew something was about happen and she’d have to help you. That’s why she intervened during your fight with your father, and had now completely detached herself from you in order to protect you, leading to the creation of two Y/ns, as one could call it. She tried to reason with you that you couldn’t stay there anymore, and being the sweet and pure kid you were, you agreed, not taking the risk of hurting anybody.

That was the night you escaped, with a small backpack and a picture of your family in hand.

You didn’t know what you were to do, but perhaps that’s what made it so exciting, the thrill of a new adventure.

In time, you learned to co-exist with Enchantress, the name you usually used for her because of the power she held. She taught you all you knew about curses, and you tried to teach her about life in the real human world, whenever you could get her to listen. You became each other’s best friend, unable to rely on anybody else or trust the mere strangers that popped into your life.

After you’d gotten into a good university and found a way to live freely without the need of your father’s or any other tutor’s presence, Enchantress stepped aside, letting you live your life at its fullest. She still talked to you and entertained you with her snarky comments, but she’d actually intervened, until a few days ago…

You felt the water becoming cold and knew you had to get out of here, not only of the shower obviously, but you had to leave your job and go somewhere isolated and safe, for everybody’s sake.

That day, after spending some time in school and enjoying your last hours with your students, you resigned from your job without explanations, and started packing your bags as soon as you came back home.

What you didn’t expect that day, was a visitor, much less Gojo Satoru himself knocking at your door and seven p.m. in the evening.

“Helloooo…” He cheered, but frowned and gave you a confused look upon noticing the scattered bags all around your apartment.

“Are you moving out?” 

“Hello to you too Satoru.” You said calmly, going back to stack the brown boxes one on top of the other.

He kept his frown, urging you to answer his question.

“And yes, I am moving. I should be gone by tomorrow afternoon.”

He gave you a saddened look, and only after a while you understood its meaning.

“Oh gosh, I forgot to tell you! Sorry Gojo, ehm-I mean Satoru. I really wanted to call you but I didn’t have the time. It was a pretty fast decision, if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain to the white-haired man.

“Don’t worry, I figured you must’ve been busy. But why are you moving out? And where would you be going anyways? I thought you really liked it here…” He said, looking around your apartment.

He’d visited you a couple of days after you’d first met and you’d told him about how you’d just moved in a couple of months ago and really enjoyed your new home and job.

“I did, it’s just…” You stopped yourself before you could say anything else. You couldn’t lie to a sorcerer! He’d detect it right away and then you would be in big trouble. You had to avoid talking about the reason for which you were leaving. “It’s complicated, really. And besides, there is no real matter. It just feels like I don’t belong here…” That part was true. Ever since you’d run away from your home, you felt like  you didn’t fit in anywhere, and all the dangers you’d faced had only made you stronger and perhaps gave you some trust issues, and now you constantly felt alone and unwanted, though it was a minor thing, considering your real issues- Cough-cough-Enchantress-.

“What if you come teach at Jujutsu High?” He asked.

What?! He wasn’t possibly proposing to…huh?

“I mean, the kids already have teachers for sorcery stuff and everything, but there’s a lack of more…How can I say?…normal subjects? Like, they don’t know anything about Maths, History, literature, science or any of that stuff, but I know it could be really important if they don’t become actual Sorcerers or even if…I mean, they could really use a teacher like you.” He said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Surprisingly enough, you thought about it. You knew you had to get out of the city, but wherever you went, you had to get a job to survive, or you’d have to go back to the way you were as a runaway teenager, which were years you only wanted to forget about.

Besides, at the High School you’d be protected from curses and evil sorcerers and you wouldn’t bring more danger or trouble than the ones all of the students would ordinarily face.

“Don’t you dare!” Enchantress, ever the party crusher seethed. “We’ve already made this decision! We’re heading to a small village in the country where we won’t bring danger to ourselves or anybody else. Besides, you’d be living with sorcerer, which means they would find out about us sooner or later, whether you like it or not, and I’m 100% sure they won’t like us. I heard stories about people killed for this! For being like you! You can’t do this, the risk is too great, as you would put it, the cons are way more than the pros.” She tried to reason with you, though you tried to keep your mind open to every possibility.

You hadn’t made a final decision yet, so why not try?

Besides, Gojo seemed like a pretty chill guy, so after getting on friendly terms, you could tell him about your situation and you were sure that, with his kind nature, he’d help you (he did say he liked you, and you didn’t want to use his feelings against him, but, they sure would help!).

“I…have to think about it…” You told him, not giving a definite answer.

“I understand. I don’t want to put too much pressure on you, but I think you’d be a great fit for the kids and everyone there will love you. Besides, it’s a very friendly and chill environment, so you’d get used to it pretty quickly. In addition, you wouldn’t have to worry about food or a place to stay, since all of us teachers and students live in buildings on the High School grounds.”

You nodded in thought, but he began speaking once again: “Anyways, I got the feeling you’ll move out regardless, so why don’t you let me help you gather all these boxes and then we can go eat something?”

“Yeah sure, thanks.” You answered. A new feeling entered your heart, a feeling of fondness, happiness mixed with something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You had finally found a friend you could trust, so why not? Why not try to be part of something bigger, be part…of a family again.

You felt your eyes begin to tear up and, without any warning, you threw yourself in Gojo’s arms. He didn’t ask you anything or question your motives, keeping you latched onto him as tight as possible.

As soon as you felt better, you muttered with a cracked voice, in between soft sobs and hiccups: “Thank you, for everything.”

With a hopeful gleam in his eyes, he said, making circles on your back with his long fingers to soothe you and ease your nerves: “Does this mean you’ll come teach at my school?”

You simply nodded, your mind (mostly Enchantress though) screaming at you to not do it, but for once, you didn’t listen to her. For the first time in a very long time, you followed your heart, that pleaded you for a chance to be part of a family that truly loved you, regardless of who you were or what you did. You were finally free, and it felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders as you detached yourself from Gojo, who stood in front of you with that recognizable beam of joy in his eyes. It reminded you that you weren’t in this alone, and even thought you’d just met him, he would help you throughout every step of your journey, your trustworthy friend. On this journey, you’d probably make mistakes and things would probably go wrong many times, but that didn’t matter. For the first time, you thought about what you wanted, without over caring about the consequences of your choices on other people: it was your life dammit!

Heart full of hope and joy, you felt ready ready to start this new unexpected chapter of your life!

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. You're welcome to come check out my account and my other posts and/or make requests :) (MASTERLIST) Do NOT plagiarize this or any of my content.

Love you guys! See you soon!😘

Written by crazycat010 © 2025 crazycat010

[yatzstar]

I'll Do Better

Crosshair is the last to warm up to the tiny infant girl rescued from Nala Se's laboratory, but even he could not help but love her.

-

For @star-farer's Ik'aad (name under construction) AU! Omega is very smol in this one, and I gave her some premature baby qualities (based on myself).

“This is insane, even for us,” Crosshair growled. “I don’t want any part of it.”

“You can’t say that!” Wrecker cried indignantly.

“Yes, I can,” Crosshair insisted, meeting his angry glare. “This shouldn’t be a situation in the first place.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Hunter spoke up for the first time since the argument began. “Just leave her to die?”

Crosshair stared at the tiny child laid out on the table, limbs barely moving in protest as Tech worked to deliver nutrients intravenously. He hadn’t known it was possible for humans to be so small, let alone clones, regardless of the fact that she was a she. Tiny sounds filtered into the air, attempts at crying from lungs struggling to breathe, and he could not imagine a child so weak could survive. As much as he detested Nala Se’s decommissioning of the child, his brothers were only bringing pain on themselves by becoming so heavily involved with this child Hunter had practically stolen from her laboratory.

“I don’t know what you should have done,” he muttered, “but this isn’t what we’re meant to be doing.”

“We are experimental units, and so is she.” Tech cupped the child’s head to keep her still, his palm nearly engulfing the entirety of it. “It would be wrong to leave one of our own.”

Her hands and feet were so small, her eyes just barely able to open. Veins protruded beneath her skin where what little fat she had could not cover them. She was too small, and the sight of her set an uncomfortable weight on Crosshair’s heart.

“Do what you want,” he finally said, turning away, “but don’t expect me to get involved.”

And yet, despite his expectations, the child lived. He did not visit her in Nala Se’s laboratory, but he heard about her progress from his brothers, how she was growing stronger with each passing day. They called her Omega, taken from her batch designation, and the next thing he knew, she came to stay semi-permanently in their barracks.

It was then Crosshair came to realize that stronger also meant louder. When Omega needed something, she made it known to everybody, and the noise wore on his already dwindling patience. The only way anyone got any sleep was with ear protectors taken from the shooting range, and he continued arguing with his brothers about their new charge, even threatening to move to the reg barracks.

With the massive distraction the child provided, he feared they would lose their squad’s nearly perfect success rate, and that was something his brothers no longer prioritized as much as he did. That was even worse than the kid herself in his mind, and that shift led to several confrontations that teetered on the edge of a fistfight. He kept as much distance as possible between him and the kid out of principal, but if it was one thing he could count on his brothers to do, it was breaking through every barrier he tried to put up.

“Crosshair, I need your help.”

One glance was enough to make Crosshair bristle instinctively as Hunter approached him, carrying the small, squirming bundle of Omega against his shoulder. So far, he had not been asked to help with the child after making his opinion clear, but he had a sinking feeling that was about to change. Even Hunter’s tattoo could not hide the sleep-deprived weariness on his face.

“What do you want?” Crosshair growled.

“I have a strategic assessment soon, but someone needs to watch her.” If Hunter noticed the tiny hand grabbing at his hair, he did not react. “All you need to do is get her to go back to sleep. Wrecker should be back within an hour.”

“I’m busy.” It was a lie, and a weak one at best, but Crosshair tried it anyway.

“Don’t give me that.” Hunter’s gaze sharpened, the glaze of fatigue replaced by fraternal irritation. “You don’t have anything until later, and there’s plenty of time.”

Motivated by spite, Crosshair asked, “Why don’t you just leave her with Nala Se again?”

A shadow passed over Hunter’s face, and he cradled Omega’s head as if he wanted to shield her from the mere idea. “We want to avoid that if we can. Nala Se takes the opportunity to perform…procedures on her.”

As much as he didn’t want to, Crosshair could not help but feel sympathy. He knew what that was like, which was deeply unpleasant at best, and he disdained Nala Se even more for the fact that she would so callously experiment on the child.

“I don’t know what to do with her,” he said, speaking out of honesty rather than an attempt to avoid it. The next thing he knew, Hunter handed Omega over, settling her gently in his arms. She suddenly seemed even more small and frail, her weight barely existent against him.

“Support her head and torso,” Hunter instructed, “and make sure you have a good hold on her.”

Crosshair awkwardly did as he said, trying not to look at the little face beneath him. Handling guns was a delicate process he had practiced to perfection, but somehow holding Omega made that seem simple by comparison. “…What do I do now?”

“Just hold her until she falls asleep, then put her in bed. She’s already fed and clean, so there shouldn’t be any problems.”

Crosshair eyed Hunter skeptically. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Crosshair sighed, trying not to feel the tiny fingers prodding lightly at his chest. “Alright, fine, but you had better pass that assessment.”

Hunter smiled, but there was no teasing towards his acceptance, only sincere relief. “Thank you, brother. I owe you one.”

“Careful,” Crosshair muttered. “Depending on how this goes, I might actually take you up on that.”

Within a matter of minutes, Hunter had gathered his equipment and departed from the barracks, leaving Crosshair alone with his unexpected charge. He finally made himself look at Omega, bracing for tears now that Hunter was gone, but none came. She merely stared, sucking contentedly on her fingers. Her face had gotten rounder as she gained weight, no longer so alarmingly bony, and he was struck by how large her eyes were. They were brown, containing nothing but wondering innocence as she looked at him.

“Just make my life easier and go back to sleep,” he grunted, keeping his voice low. The sooner she slept, the sooner he could forget this had ever happened.

Omega was clearly of a different mind, because she didn’t fall asleep immediately. Several minutes passed, but she remained awake, docile with an occasional bout of squirming. When it became clear that she would not oblige him with quick slumber, Crosshair tried to remember the methods of soothing he had seen his brothers use.

With a sigh, he stood up, carefully repositioning Omega so she was resting upright against his shoulder. She made a small noise but did not protest beyond that as he fixed the loose ends of the blanket, beginning to walk a slow circuit around the room. Little fingers flexed against his shoulder, and on some impulse he took hold of one hand, raising it to inspect it. The soft skin below her knuckles was blemished by scars from needles and intravenous lines, still red in their newness. Some of them were from Tech’s procedures, but not all of them. He didn’t want to think about what other scars she might have, or from what.

Omega curled her fingers around one of his, and he pulled back instinctively, eliciting an unhappy whimper from her. He quickly returned the finger, his heartbeat spiking at the potential of having to deal with a crying child. “Relax. I was just surprised.”

Omega took Crosshair’s finger again and settled down, resting her head on his shoulder. He chanced a look at her, and was struck by the innocent tranquility of her expression. It seemed that she was perfectly at ease with him, like everything was right in her little world. He never thought it was possible that someone could be so peaceful in a life spent training for war, much less because of him, and the fact that someone so small and fragile as she was left him amazed.

Suddenly, Crosshair’s earlier remarks to Hunter were made bitter with regret. Handing Omega off to Nala Se would surely disrupt her simple peace, and she had already been through enough by simply fighting to stay alive. Nala Se would not care about the child’s comfort; she was still an experiment, who had initially been left to die. It was disquieting to consider what she had been made for, since the major difference of being female provided no tactical advantage in war that he could see, but he tried not to think about it as he walked in slow, measured steps around the barracks.

Omega clung stubbornly to wakefulness, and as Crosshair began to lose count of how many laps he had made, he decided to try something different. He took her to the window where she could look out at the rainy Kaminoan day, and he felt a sense of accomplishment when she let go of his finger, turning wide, wondering eyes on the glittering raindrops.

“You’re not so bad when you’re calm,” Crosshair murmured, keeping his voice just barely louder than the rain. “Like Wrecker after a few strength assessments.”

Omega shifted a little, but did not seem disturbed by his words, and he surprised himself by continuing to talk.

“I guess you’re better off here. My brothers have kept you alive when that longneck couldn’t be bothered.”  A pang of guilt hit Crosshair. “Or me.”

Omega continued to watch the rainfall, oblivious to his musings. She leaned against him with no trace of unease, like he had spent time alongside his brothers, tending to her day and night though he had never even held her before.

“I’ll do better than I have,” he decided, a quiet promise only for her to hear. “I guess you are one of us, in a way. I’ve never seen another clone like you, and you don’t deserve to be tossed aside.”

A slight pressure on Crosshair’s shoulder made him glance down. Omega was finally giving in to sleep, her eyes shut, and the sight ignited something in his chest, a fierce desire that her peace should remain undisturbed by those who saw her as a faulty experiment. He began to understand what had gripped his brothers so tightly, because it was slowly taking him too, wrapped in round cheeks, tiny limbs, and wisps of pale hair.

Wrecker crept into the barracks, paying close attention to each movement he made, expecting that Omega would be asleep. However, he did not expect Crosshair to be with her, reclined on his bunk with the girl splayed on his chest. The sight made him stop in his tracks as a smile slowly overtook his shocked expression. He had figured it would only be a matter of time until Crosshair gave in, and he wished Tech had returned to document it.

After taking in the surprising scene, Wrecker eased forward, intending on relieving Crosshair, but as he got close the sniper opened his eyes.

“Leave her until she wakes up,” he muttered. “Not worth disturbing her.”

Wrecker grinned, which Crosshair met with a scowl, shutting his eyes again and adjusting himself with utmost care. That did not dissuade Wrecker, who continued to smile even as he went about his business. He had hoped Crosshair would eventually understand, and seeing them together was worth the wait.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

I'm also curious why they'd recommend it for someone who's not deficient and also has POTS, since magnesium lowers blood pressure and basically acts as a muscle relaxant... So if your pain is from tension, yeah sure it helps, but for someone like me too much would do nothing for pain and just make the POTS untenable and I am under the impression it would be the same for you???? It lowered my mothers blood pressure enough she was able to stop taking one of her blood pressure medications, so it seems irresponsible to prescribe it for chronic pain to a patient who's so likely to not be able to tolerate it????

Sorry, it's just baffling to me

is there a way to take magnesium supplements in some other form? or is it not a stomach issue

a tad worried for you tbh. hang in there

Thank you, I'm fine(ish). I'm not even deficient in magnesium, so it's not like I *need* it. It's just something being pushed at me by doctors because it's meant to be good for migraines and chronic pain, and I dare say it helps a lot of people, or it wouldn't be rec'd so much.

It just doesn't work for me, and I need different pain management.

[cometblaster2070]

so i'm going to go fucking insane because for a while this aspect of malenia's character design has been bothering me and making me think I'm seeing things and going fucking crazy.

the aspect in question is malenia's left arm:

when i first saw malenia's arm my first thought was oh okay they're probably just bandages or some sort of wraps.

but then you look a bit closer and like

idk about you (because i might be losing it) but it seems like the mesh of whatever the fuck that is very clearly melded with her skin in a way/it looks like it's going into and then emerging out of her skin (which is HORRIFYING to think of I won't lie).

and once again i thought i was going crazy and seeing things because surely these were just meant to be wraps or bandages like the ones we see in the scene of her fighting radahn right?

and then the thought of the needle came to my mind. along with something malenia says in her cutscene before we fight her.

"my flesh was dull gold"

huh. now isn't that interesting.

this would imply that in order to stall the rot from consuming his sister, miquella made a plan to sew unalloyed gold into malenia's skin using his needle in a last-ditch attempt to save her arm.

(granted it's funnier to imagine he just sticks it in her arm and goes okay great all done! and that's probably the canon way it went but)

the thought of the sheer pain malenia must've gone through during this process, to be honest, and the thought of the guilt miquella must've felt at having to force his sister to endure even more agony just to help her is just sad.

and all of it is done just in an attempt to salvage what they can of her and hope that more can't be taken.

edit: btw when looking at malenia pre-bloom and pre-losing her needle it looks like there's a proper layer/cover/whatever it is around her arm up till her knuckles making it seem like an actual covering or layer on top of her skin and what not, but when we fight her post-bloom and post-losing needle it appears like some of the layers have either flaked or fallen away and that reveals that it's actually meshed with/into her skin.

[jon-withnoh]

Health vent in the tags 🙃

[otherpens]

Had some good news and got a few things done today after a dispiriting and debilitating evening yesterday.

Edible's about to hit if my timing is correct so 3-2-1-liftoff, I deserve it.

[kirbyddd]

ok that was a new one

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[sick-as-a-dog]

×

[akattawo]

Real shit

[mallory524]

Oh oh, can I request a sort of alternate ending to the kidnapping headcanons with each of the Thunderbolts where, when they are about to break into the building reader is trapped in, reader appears behind them all bloody and bruised, making them jump and her saying, “Did you guys come to save me? Aww, that’s so sweet, I feel so loved right now!!”

(OMG YES This is sweet and fun I love it)

the thunderbolts come to save you, but you've already handled it yourself

tags- fem!reader, mostly just silly and fluffy, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of blood and fighting and minor injuries, some language

Yelena

Yelena knows that you’re tough, but she doesn’t expect you to be able to get yourself out of this one. The group gets to where you’re being held, and you’re just sitting on the ground, with your back up against the doorway. You look like hell, but you’re free. This is not what Yelena had imagined. She thought she’d have to free you herself and toss you over her shoulder or something. She couldn’t be more happy to see that she was wrong about your state. “Oh, hey, guys! This is awfully sweet of you to all come out here. This is a long ways away from the city,” you say as you manage to get back up on your feet. Yelena looks at you, amazed, and runs up to hug you and kiss your temple. Walker mutters to Ava, “At this point we could’ve just called her an Uber.”

Bucky

Bucky did not want to think about what could be happening to you. He’s seen a lot of pain and hurt in his day, so he knows firsthand how ugly these situations can get. Luckily, it never got as bad as it could’ve, because you actually broke yourself out. Bucky did not expect to find you already fighting off your captors on your own when he arrived with the whole team. Bucky wants to help, of course. He gets one punch in. You thank him, like you haven’t just knocked out every other person on your own. “I was just about to look for where they hid my phone so I could call you to give me a ride home, but it looks like I didn’t even need to call! You guys are the best,” you say, as if you’d just been stranded at the airport. Bucky’s never been so proud.

Ava

The fact that the search for you was dragging on for days was only making Ava’s nerves worse. Leaving you in danger for so long made her feel so horrible, and sometimes she’d wonder if it was possible that you’d escaped on your own. She figured it was too much to hope for, but it made her feel a little better. Besides, it wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility. She’d imagine finally reaching your location, and the people who were supposed to be guarding you would all be just as clueless about your whereabouts as she was. She never considered that they’d all be unconscious on the ground when she got there. “Ava!!” she hears you yell from behind. She spins around and sees you jogging (with a slight limp) down the hall to reach her. She’s astonished. “Aww you guys! Thanks for coming. That means a lot.” After that remarkably chill response, Ava looks at you like you’ve never been so beautiful and cool in her eyes before, and that’s saying something.

John

John was terrified the whole time you were missing. All day long, he panicked and thought about all the horrible things that could be happening to you at any given moment. He didn't sleep, he didn't eat, he led the whole search, and he was ready to do whatever to took to get to you. You can only imagine his surprise when you run out and cut his destructive rampage short. He keeps standing there and looking at you because this is not computing. You're just standing there with your hands on your hips, your clothes all tattered, with bruises and cuts all over you. You're clearly exhausted, but you manage a little smirk. "Awww, Walker! Were you worried about me?" He just tosses his silly folded shield to the ground and pulls you into a tight hug. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He doesn't even put up a fight when you reach out to affectionately ruffle his hair or pinch his cheek like a grandma. He's just so happy you're safe.

Alexei

When Alexei gets there and realizes you’ve already broken yourself out, he is so shocked. Then he thinks about it for a moment, and he doesn’t know why he’s even surprised. Of course you solved this on your own! You’re such a badass. You always have been. It’s one of the first things he noticed about you, and it’s what initially drew him to you. He feels like he should’ve had more faith in you, but now’s not the time for that. Now’s the time to celebrate the fact that you’re safe. He lets out a loud, jovial laugh and wraps his arms around you, telling you over and over again how proud he is of you while wiping some blood from your forehead. Somehow, you always manage to surprise him. Everyone is thrilled that you’re back, but Alexei is absolutely beaming with pride and relief for the rest of the night.

Bob

Part of why the team originally didn’t want Bob to go on the rescue mission, besides the Void stuff, was because they didn’t know what kind of state you’d be in. Bob’s very new to this line of work, and they know how much you mean to him, so they thought it might be too much for him to handle if he ended up having to see you seriously hurt. Luckily that didn’t happen. Before they have the chance to break the door down, you walk out from the other side of the building, waving your arms. “Hey! I’m right here!” Bob rushes to hug you, and it’s so tight that all your words are kind of muffled. “Guys I got the whole search party? This is actually really flattering.” Bob pulls away after a while and he’s immediately worried again when he sees the bruising all over you. You make a “You should see the other guy” joke, but everyone knows you’re not kidding. They really don’t want to see the other guy.