#kit hits 1k

[kitmoas]

The Chronicles of a Sweet Toy

A Training Grounds Mini Series

7 Volumes style Drabbles about the sweetest side of Toy

| Vol i | Vol ii | Vol iii | Vol iv | Vol v | Vol vi | Vol vii |

Tag list: @simplysimping999 @8bitscarlet @simpfornatasharomanoff @yourtaletotell @s1ut4nat @simpforflorencepugh1 @theperfectlovestory @katebishop-ladyarrow @widowbitessting @uraveragequeer @didujustcallmedumb @caroldantops

[wonderlandwalker]

Nurse Nightingale | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Someone wakes you up in the middle of the night, when you realize it's James looking for help you don't have the heart to refuse him

Content Warnings/Tags: fluff, blood, bruising, cuts, mentions of violence, insinuations of smut

Word Count: 1k

A/n: I'm currently using the uni holiday as an excuse not to study so now I'm writing non-stop instead. Not quite smut but sorta if you're willing to squint

*Knock knock*

You turn around, looking at the clock on the bedside table. Who the hell is knocking on the door at 3 AM?

*Knock knock*

You turn onto your stomach, pushing your pillow over your head in an attempt to block out the noise.

*Knock knock*

It’s louder this time, more determined, and you hear someone speak: “Y/N, it’s me. Please let me in.” He’s rambling a bit, he sounds tired as well. A shiver goes through your body at hearing his voice, his voice always seems to mess with your head in a way nothing else can.

“What are you doing here James? It’s 3 AM.” You ask, through the still closed door, your voice dripping with sleep. “Just, please, open the door..” He sounds desperate this time, so you decide to do what he asks. You stand up, maybe a little too fast, making your head spin, and walk towards the door. You open it, meaning to step aside to let him in, but when you see him illuminated by the hallway, you freeze. He’s bleeding, a cut starting at his nose and going diagonally underneath his eye, he’s straightened his glasses but there's a crack in them, another bruise at his temple, one on his lips, those soft lips you always think about, even a bruise below his ear on his cheek masking his jawline. “What in Merlin’s name happened to you?” You hear yourself whisper, more at yourself than him. “It’s nothing..” he slures out “.. just wanted to see you.” You move aside to let him into the empty room and he takes the opportunity, walking towards the bed, but not before grabbing you by your waist and giving you a quick, but passionate kiss. He takes you by surprise with it, your mind still trying to wrap around what happened, and your body falls into him, making him hiss from the cut on his upper lip, but he doesn't seem to want to stop regardless.

He sits down on your bed when he breaks the kiss, and you turn on the bedside lamp to get a better look at him. Small bruises are forming on his arms, and his muscles seem strained, his exhausted body melting into the bedding.

“Lay down, I’ll be right back.” you mumble at him before moving to the other side of your room where you left your wand. After a little searching, you find it, but with how tired you are, you’re not sure how much you trust yourself with it. You remember the small first aid kit in your bathroom, and move to get it before making your way back to James.

You see him struggling to take his jumper off, and move over to help him with it. Once it’s off he moves to lie down, and you put some extra pillows under his head, making him sit up a little more before pouring the sterilizer on a towel. You look over at him again, and wonder about how you’re going to do this, when you see him stretch his arm out to you. You take his hand and he pulls you onto his lap, making you straddle him and giving me the perfect position to patch him up.

You look at his chest, covered in blooming bruises, and when the towel hits the few open wounds, he groans a little, instinctively moving his hands to your hips to ground himself. His eyes are closed, and even though he looks like he should be in pain, he seems relaxed.

He stays quiet the whole time, only the occasional hiss or groan leaving him. And when you’re done, having put everything back in its proper place, he asks you silently: “Can I please stay over” “Of course you can, I’m not letting you wander back in this state.” you tell him while moving to lie down beside him. He doesn’t seem satisfied though, and pulls you in even closer.

After a few more minutes of silence, you ask him: “Jamie, what the hell happened to you..?” “It’s, it’s nothing, really, just-" He seems a little hesitant, so you wait for him to continue. “There, there were these guys…” He sounds a little angry, but you still don’t know what he’s talking about. “Do you remember the party that was going on, earlier tonight?” “Of course I do.” you tell him. You had gotten tired early, and decided to head to bed while the others stayed a while longer. “Well, turns out some of the Slytherins had noticed you, and they were talking about you.” He seems even angrier now, you remember this look, it’s similar to the look he got when he lost the Quidditch house cup, except this seems more personal somehow. “They were talking about you, telling their stuck-up friends all the things he would do to you- calling you names and saying how he-” you see him clench his fists, his knuckles turning white. “He was telling them how he would-, bloody hell, I can’t even get it out of my mouth. But I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I, well, I may have punched him.” “You did what?” you ask him, not fully wanting to believe what he’s telling you. Sure, he get detention often enough, but never for fist fights, he doesn't get in fist fights. “I punched him, and I got into a fight with him and his friends.” The hesitance is back now, replacing his anger. “I’m sorry y/n, but I couldn’t stand him saying those kinds of things about you.” You smile a little, and he looks confused. “You got into a fight to defend my honour, Potter?” Your smile only growing. He only nods and you don’t hesitate to lean in, kissing him softly. You can still taste the blood on his tongue, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t seem to either.

You shift over, and he pulls you in to straddle his lap once again. You give him a quiet “I love you” in between kisses. He doesn’t need to say it back this time, his actions having spoken louder than words.

[alotofpockets]

Travel day | Arsenal WFC

Pairing: Arsenal x Teen!Reader & Kyra Cooney-Cross x Best friend!Reader

Summary: A travel day with Arsenal, where you and Kyra can't seem to sit still. [requested]

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

Ever since you had joined Arsenal at seventeen, you were deemed the child of the group. All of your teammates were immensely protective over you. Leah was the most protective, she had let you move into her apartment, the captain not wanting you to stay somewhere on your own. At first the overly protectiveness was a bit annoying but once you realised that they all meant it well, you started to enjoy the way the team had taken you in as their family member. 

When Kyra had joined the team a year later, you were grateful for another youngling on the team. The girl had quickly gotten the “annoying little sister” status, and it was to no surprise to the team that the two of you got along great right away. 

Today was a travelling day for the team, you were heading overseas for a day of training, and a match the day after. You walk into the living room with your suitcase, kit bag, and your backpack, plopping them all down next to where Leah had put hers. “Hey kiddo, got everything packed?” You nod and sit down on the couch. “Socks, pyjamas, and a charger too?” You get up and walk towards her, handing her the checked off packing list. “I packed everything you wrote down for me.” She looks over the list, and is pleased with all the check marks she sees on the paper. “Alright then, Lia will be here shortly to pick us up. Oh, before I forget. I made you some sandwiches, you can put them in your backpack.” 

You take the sandwiches from Leah, “Lee, what am I supposed to do with this many ham sandwiches? It’s like a two hour flight max.” You laugh at the girl but put them in your backpack anyways. “You can share with Kyra, as I am guessing that the two of you will use up enough energy to need those later.” 

A couple minutes later, Lia arrives to pick the both of you up. “Hey kid, ready for today?” Lia asks as she gives you a quick hug. “Yeah, I’m excited.” With your luggage in the car, Lia drives the three of you to Colney where the team would meet up to head to the airport together. 

When you arrive at the airport, and have checked in your baggage and gone through costumes, you arrive at the gate. You drop your backpack to the floor where Leah sits down, and rush off to find Kyra again. When the girl notices you, she dropped her own bag next to Katie, and started running away from you. You sprint after her, chasing her around the gate.

The team watches the two of you run around amused, wincing when you’d nearly miss other airport goers. “Should we stop them?” Katie says to Leah, when you finally manage to catch up to Kyra, and tackle her to the ground. “I say let them tire themselves out, so we have a peaceful flight.” She said the last part as a joke, but seeing the amount of energy the two of you had at the moment, it was best to let some of it out now. 

They let you run around, and go back to their own conversations. Occasionally someone films the two of you, many of the clips either ending up on their Instagram stories or on their Tiktok’s. You had no clue about any of it though, as you were having the time of your life running with Kyra. 

You were grateful for the sandwiches that Leah made for you, when your stomach started growling. Grabbing both yours and Kyra’s backpack, you head back to her. She was sitting by the window, watching the planes move around in the distance. Like Leah had suggested, you shared the sandwiches with Kyra, getting through quite a few of them until Kyra pulled a ball from her backpack, with a sly smile on her face. 

The two of you start kicking the ball back and forth for a bit, before you start to do keep ups together, trying to not let the ball hit the ground. That’s when Katie steps in, and grabs the ball from midair, “Where did you even get a ball?” The older woman asks. “From Kyra’s backpack.” You say in defence, raising your hands up in surrender. Kyra rolls her eyes at how quickly you threw her under the bus, but she would’ve done the same thing if it would have been Leah that stepped in. Katie takes the ball with her, as she sits back down next to Caitlin. “Kids.” She shakes her head, but looks in your direction with a smile.

Once the plane had taken off, it didn’t take long for both you and Kyra to fall asleep.

-----

leahwilliamsonn just posted to their story

-----

Only to be full of energy again as the both of you woke up when the plane landed. You were bouncing your legs up and down, waiting to be able to get off the plane. There was no time for you to let out your energy now, as you went straight to baggage claim and onto the bus that was waiting to get you to the stadium you would be playing in a couple of days. 

However, the moment that you set foot onto the field, you were back to running around on the field with Kyra in tow. Occasionally either one of you would be taken aside to take a picture with some of your teammates, but you always found each other again. 

Once Kyra was taken aside by Alessia for a picture, you ran over to Leah. The girl welcomed you with open arms, “Hi kiddo, having fun so far?” You step into her arms, and hug her tight. “Yes, I can’t wait to play here.” You stay in her arms with your head leaned against her chest.

Kyra walked back up to you with a ball in hand. You look up to Leah, “Yeah, go on. Have fun.” And with that you made your way onto the field with Kyra, finishing the game of keep ups that was interrupted in the airport.

-----

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[littlebluespoon]

Unstuck (Octo!König Part 3)

Happy Halloween! Have a little treat on me <3

This one is dedicated to the lovely anon who filled my ask box with octo!König ideas. I couldn't not use the nipple piercing one, its like it was made for octopus!König.

Part 1 - Stuck Part 2 - Stuck (Again) Part 4 - Stranded

<1K, 18+, nipple piercings, top half nudity, angst

Anyway, without further rambling, part 3! Have fun!

Your three weeks of leave were wonderful, spending time with family, catching up with friends and even treating yourself a little. Your friends had dared you to get piercings and after much debate and convincing yourself that no one would know you were breaking regulations as they’d be under your clothes at all times, you got yourself nipple piercings.

Returning to base and to work meant you were kept busy. Enough that you barely had time to worry about anyone finding out your little secret. In fact, you had nearly forgotten all about them the day it happened. There was nothing wrong with the day, it had been a standard day, nothing remarkable and no issues had cropped up. You had only dealt with some cuts and bruises so the paperwork you had to do was minimal, and as you mindlessly finished it up your mind drifted to dinner. The door slamming made you jump. There in the doorway stood Horangi, 

“Take him! Before I rip his arms off!” He shouted at you, throwing a ball towards your desk. Before you could respond, he was gone and the ball was moving towards you. 

Unable to process the last few seconds it took the feel of tentacle on your arm to move you into action,

“König? What’s wrong?” Seeing as your last few experiences with the hybrid involved him being injured, you made a beeline for your aquatic med kit and towards a patient bed.

“Come on, let me get a look at you,” you tried pulling him off but were as unsuccessful as ever. He just continued up your arm towards his favourite spot which is when you began to panic,

“No König! Just stay where you are, okay?” Attempting to use your free hand and block him from continuing up your body while making sure he wasn’t bleeding, wasn’t the easiest of tasks. Especially not while you scrambled for an excuse as to why he couldn’t be attached to your chest,

“I uhh… I took a hit in training. I’m bruised, yeah. Eh, I’m all bruised so you can’t sit there today.” Seeing that there didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him you walked back to your desk, closing the door as you went. König seemed to consider what you were saying, he stopped his climbing efforts and stared at you. You who had suddenly found so much more paperwork that needed doing. 

Settling back into a rhythm of paperwork with König on your arm was fairly easy and it lasted a while. Enough that you had distracted yourself in checkboxes and signatures and your heartrate had come back down to normal. Until König reached out a tentacle and brought it hammering down across your chest. With a yelp and a flinch, you dropped everything,

“König! What the hell was that for huh?!” You stared down at his beady eyes, in a stand off with him. He moved closer and you flinched, one of his arms were held aloft, swaying gently in the air and every so often it found its way closer to you. Distracted by the arm in the air, you never even noticed the other two, as quick as lighting, they darted forward and ripped your shirt open. 

Your unmarred chest stared back at him. And you could have sworn his expression was that of a raised eyebrow. You, too frozen to react to anything, standing there as he worked the rest of your clothes off until he found what you were hiding. No bruises. Two little metal bars. A rapid heartbeat.

“It’s not like anyone else knows. And besides, if you weren’t such a pervert, you wouldn’t know!” Your defence was shaky, even you knew it, “Can’t just respect someone’s boundaries can you? You’ve got to have whatever you want.” Lashing out in an attempt to keep from crying as you pulled your shirt across your chest but you found your efforts hampered by König as he began climbing up again, 

“No!” Brining an arm across your chest to protect your nipples, you shout at him, “They can’t be touched so just shimmy your way back down. And while you’re at it, why don’t you just get off?” He freezes at your words, you’ve been annoyed at him in the past but never angry. Never upset. 

As he pulls himself off to sit on your desk you bring a hand to your eyes, desperate to remove any evidence of tears before turning away from him to find a new shirt. Cleaning yourself up, removing the small spots of spilled ink on your arms and coving yourself in a spare shirt you made your way back to your desk. Expecting to find a grumpy octopus instead you’re met with a puddle of ink ruining your paperwork and not a bit of orange in sight.

___

As always my ask box is open for asks and requests <3

[babygorewhore]

Stay with me

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

Your boyfriend shows up at your door after another fight with his father.

Warnings! Talks of violence! Season 1 rafe. I’d fight ward with my bare hands for my baby. Angst to fluff! Good ending! W.C 1k just a blurb. Couple is just for aesthetic.

The last thing you expected at 3am was to see your boyfriend Rafe showing up at your door with rageful tears streaming down his pretty face. His prominent cheekbones sunken in from apparent lack of meals as he stood outside on your porch. You immediately ushered him in, reaching to touch him before hesitating when he flinched away.

He stumbles onto your couch and your hand falters to your side as you finally notice the bruises and small cuts forming on his knuckles. “Rafey…what happened?” You quietly ask him as he buries his face in his hands.

He doesn’t answer right away as if weighing his options and you wait for him, slowly approaching him with your socks silently padding the floor as you stand in front of him with a relaxed, non threatening stance.

“I got into an argument.” He says between gritted teeth. “A fight. Well-“ his fingers fly to his hair and he pulls a little. “I got into a fight with my fucking dad. It got bad.” He admits and you immediately feel anger percolating in your gut.

You hated his father. He was an asshole. But you kept quiet, not wanting Rafe to stop opening up to you.

“He hit me. Smacked me around.” He flexes his jaw and leans back on the seat. “I ended up taking it out on my wall and he told me to leave for the night. ‘Cool off’” he says in quotations.

You shake your head in disbelief as you listen before storming towards the door, hastily looking for your car keys inside your purse hanging on the wall.

“Whoa whoa, where are you going?” You hear him say and stand.

“I’m going to fucking deal with him,” you growl but then your purse is yanked out of your grasp and he holds it away from you. “Rafe. Give it to me.” You hold out your hand and he shakes his head.

“Absolutely not. You’re not going over there because of me.”

“Because of you? You’re my fucking boyfriend and he hurt you. I won’t let him get away with it.” You try to reach for your bag but Rafe pulls it away from you and sets it on the other chair.

His hands move to your shoulders. “No. I won’t let you get hurt because of me.” His touch is gentle but firm as you stare into his blue eyes. “I’m used to this. I’m used to him. But I didn’t have anywhere to go. I didn’t have anyone else I wanted to see.” His tone doesn’t leave room for argument but you’re not going to easily give in.

“Rafe this is unacceptable. He can’t keep doing this to you. This isn’t the first time, is it? I see how you are around him. I see how tense you get-“

“He’s not your problem.” He replies and you scoff.

“Of course he is! If it’s your problem-“

“No! I said no! You’re not going to take on my problems. Baby girl, please. Just stay here with me. I need you to stay. Don’t leave me.” His inflection turns into a plea and you still. He’s never sounded like that before. Desperate for you to remain by his side. He usually had the tough guy act. Determined to pretend he had no weaknesses.

Your hands go to settle on his waist, “I’d never leave you, baby. I’ll be here as long as you want.” You offer and Rafe pulls you into his arms. His hug crushing as his fingers gently stroke the bare skin as he reaches underneath your shirt. “I’ve got you, Rafe. I’m right here.” You whisper against his shoulder and he buries his head in your neck.

You both stay that way for a few minutes, just holding each other as the rain starts falling outside and onto the windows of your apartment. You pull back and see tears beginning to shed from his eyes and you reach up. You softly wipe one away. “It’s okay. Come on. Let me clean you up…” You take him by his wrist and start to guide him to your bathroom.

You turn on the light and sit him down. You dig into your sink drawer and find your first aid kit. “There we go.” You mutter to yourself and extend your palm. “Let me see your knuckles.”

You attend to his wounded skin, dapping it with saline and he winces. “I’m sorry, baby. It’ll just be a second. Gotta clean this up.” You trail off in a whisper as you concentrate and take a cotton bud. You collect cream onto it and gently spread them over his injury.

“You’re good at this.” Rafe speaks and keeps his eyes on you as you pull out a wrap around bandage.

You smile bitterly. “I’ve had my fair share of fights, Rafe.” You go to decorate his fist with the dressing but he stops you with a shocked expression.

“What?”

You shake your head. “This isn’t about me-”

“No, tell me.” Rafe interrupts and pulls his hand back. You sigh and lean against the sink counter. You hold up your hand.

“See these?” He focuses harder and notices the scars on your own knuckles. “I’ve lost count on walls I’ve hit out of rage. I understand, baby. My parents were shit too. That’s why I hate Ward so much. I hate seeing what he puts you through because I’ve been there. And I’d never want you to feel the way I have.” You choke on your words and Rafe pulls you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

“I’d never let anyone hurt you, baby girl. You’re mine. I’d kill anyone who looks at you wrong or ever puts their hands on you.” He growls before wrapping his arms around you.

You chuckle and your fingers stroke his hair, your legs on either side of him while he holds you. Rafe treated you like glass. Always wanting to keep you safe and hidden from everyone. Only because he wanted to shield you from experiencing what he went through. You were his little doll.

“We’ll protect each other, deal? You can stay here. However long you want. I’m yours.” You pull back and cup his face, pressing your foreheads together. “I love you, Rafe.”

“I love you too, baby doll. Nothings ever keeping me from you. Least of all my shit dad.” He breathes, warm air hitting your lips and you smile warmly.

“Now, let me finish that hand.”

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch @drewstarkeyslut @drudyslut @redhead1180 @rafescurtainbangz @take-everything-you-can @emsgoodthinkin @gri959 @impmunson @voyeurmunson @rafesthroatbaby

[zbis]

☆.｡.:*summary : your boyfriend comes home bruised and bloody yet again

☆.｡.:*pairing : boxer!gunwook x reader

☆.｡.:*warnings & other : blood, mentions of fighting, a bit of angst if you squint(?), fluff, not revised

☆.｡.:*w/c : ~1k

“stupid fucking-” gunwook groans out loud. “such a lucky hit, i swear...” he taps his finger on the marble surface of the kitchen island contemplatively. “i was just distracted,” he tells himself.

he places his head on the counter, mulling over the loss of the night. god, if only he did a left hook instead of the right. 

“ow..” he lifts head up and looks down, noticing his forehead wound has opened back up and has left a blood stain on the counter. “shit,” he mumbles. just as he’s about to go grab a towel to clean it up, you emerge from your room. 

“you’re back?” you yawn, your hair looking just a dishealved as his.

he clears his throat, diverting his gaze awkwardly from your exposed torso when you stretch. “yeah..” he mumbles. you laugh at how red his ears get until you notice the forehead wound among many others. you see his blood stained cheeks and eye that's just asking to get swollen if untreated. “gunwook what the fuck?” you scold him. “i-” you cut him off when you notice the stain he left on the counter. “and you’re leaving your blood everywhere!”

he scoffs, “ i was just about to clean that up..” he sighs, “im not really in the mood for this right now..” just then do you notice the way his eyes are downturned and his usual bubbly self is nowhere to be found. 

“did you-”

you dont finish your sentence because the way hes carrying himself tells you everything already. “oh wook..” you walk up to him and cup his face gently, although he still winces at the touch. “it’s just one loss you know?” he sighs, “i was gonna use the money to take you out or something, we haven't done anything fun in months.”

 “i dont care about that, you’ve done alot for me already plus i dont want you to die while making me happy.”

you dont even need to ask questions to know. gunwook typically never fought past his range. he would only go against people whom he knew he had a good chance against. however, every saturday there was an event where the fighters of the area could go against one of the strongest fighters in the city. the cash prize was good but what was even better was the reputation that came with it and your boyfriend wanted nothing more than to have it.

you were supportive but for the past 4 months, every Saturday without fail, gunwook would come home beat to a pulp. you tried to get him to give up but he was determined to win one day, he just had to get stronger.

you sigh, looking over his face. his lips were more swollen than normal and some strands of his dark hair were crisp with blood. “can you just-” “of course.” you cut him off. you place a chaste kiss on his lips, which he hisses in pain at and you laugh.

you silently lead him to the bathrooom where you keep a first aid kit on deck. you grunt as you pick up the heavy box, refusing to let gunwook help you. “just sit your ass down.” when he does you give him a once over.

he looks like a stray puppy who’d just been abandoned at the side of the road. you let out an exasperated sigh at his appearance, “you know, im not a licensed nurse. you need to go to the hospital one of these days.” he plays with his fingers while you get the kit ready for use. 

“why would i do that when i have my own personal fixer upper right here?” he jabs at your side playfully. “ow, it hurts when you do it.” you glare at him with an annoyed but light smile. 

“too strong.” 

“not strong enough apparently,” he mumbles, once again reminded of yet another saturday loss. “well,” you take place on his lap with a cotton pad wet with alcohol in hand. instinctively he moves his hand to your waist to keep you steady. “you’re strong enough to keep me safe,” you whisper.

before he can protest or say anything demeaning about himself you place the cotton on the cut closest to his eye. he hisses in pain and glares at you. “be gentler,” he mumbles. you hum, moving the piece of cotton across whatever cut or gash you came across, making sure to change it whenever it got too saturated with blood.

 “seriously though...you need to be more careful wook,” you place a kiss on the cut you just cleaned and place a bandaid over that. “my biggest fear is getting a call about a wound I won’t be able to fix.”

he nods solemnly, placing his patched up face on your shoulder. you sigh, choosing to play with his hair to soothe his stress and sadness.

after a couple beats of silence, he suddenly pips up.

"but next saturday i've definitely got it in the bag!"

[eskeptical]

"only you."

miguel o'hara x reader

summary: after multiple times of having miguel treat your wounds, it's your turn to take care of him. warnings: mentions of blood, needles, and lots of fluff word count: 1k

Working for the Spider Society came with its risk. 

At some point, maturity comes with accepting that every thing you do does. 

Naturally, for an organization like this one, getting injured basically comes with the contract. 

You’ve been hurt plenty of times, sure. Over time, one tends to receive it and keep moving, tending to it later. Often the healing part of it is taken care of by yourself, rarely with the medics team. 

However, in your time since you joined, you had never once seen Miguel O’Hara hurt. 

Not that he wouldn’t get hurt. He did, often. However, as a man equipped with either a lot of pride or extremely fast healing (the possibility of it being a mix of the two being far more reasonable), you had never seen him approach the medic team. 

At some point, the only conclusion you could draw of how he tended to his wounds came from the sight of first aid kits hidden behind his many workspaces, tucked under drawers you had rummaged through upon endless visits to his office.

But doing everything by yourself only gets you so far.

So here you both were, sitting on the hard floor cross-legged with a first aid kit spread open, the smell of rubbing alcohol tickling your nose. 

In a sense, you knew you owed it to him. Multiple times he had tended to you after missions in this same spot, as much as you persisted against it. 

Or tried to, at least. Truthfully, as skillful as you may be, handling blood and wounds was never your forte.

Where you stood with Miguel didn’t matter right now. Whatever you could call yourselves, call this, would only begin to untangle a piece of string that upon hours of hours of pulling and twisting and turning remains the same throughout, knots come undone and redone. 

Your hands were far too busy at the moment, left armed with a needle; the right, a soaked cotton ball that you shortly after placed on the floor next to the rest.. 

“You’re hesitating.”

With a blink, your eyes wandered over to him. Miguel’s voice implied a statement. Resolute, as always. 

(It manifested in his touch too. Any time he had helped tend to your wounds, his hands did not hesitate, decidedly doing what had to be done, while somehow managing to still remain gentle.)

“Sorry. It’s been a while. I’ve had no need to, thanks to you.” 

A hearty chuckle left his throat. He rolled his eyes, a mischievous glint accompanied by a slightly raised corner of his lips. 

“Are you trying to pin your horrible nursing skills on me?” He asked with a raised brow, to which you turned your gaze back onto his shoulder. Bare, from his neck to his abdomen, purely out of necessity to better access the tiny gashes that surrounded it.  

(Not the first ones, you noticed. Multiple scars covered him, a few tones darker than his skin. Most fully healed, others almost, some still fresh. The sight of it pinched at your sides, and you bit your cheek as you wished you could wrap your arms around him for comfort. Something you would have done if only you had absolute certainty it wouldn’t harm him any further.)

“Maybe. You know, there’s a medical team for this. They could do this ten times better than I could.”

Miguel’s hand reached out to you, his fingers circling around your right hand. His thumb caressed your knuckles, tracing circles over them slowly. A habit of his, you had noticed since you two had gotten to this level of trust. He fixed his gaze on his thumb, shrugging and lowering his voice. 

“No, they can’t. Their instruments probably aren’t clean. I could get tetanus.”

To this, you laughed, raising an eyebrow at his ridiculous statement.

“Tetanus? From the medics? That you recruited?”

“Whatever. I want you to do it.”

His quick reply hit you in your weakest spot, butterflies bursting rapidly throughout your guts and arteries. At this point, you knew you should be used to them, given there are far more passionate things you have done with Miguel than simply playing a part in his healing process. Still, knowing you were wanted, that he wanted you to do this for him, and trusting you fully to do so filled you to the brim with excitement and warmth. 

“Okay, okay, fine.” Attempting to hide a smile, you squeezed his hand, before gently putting it aside and getting to work. 

Talking to him throughout the process made it a lot easier to withstand. As you were getting the final stitches done, he commented on it.

“They’re not half bad.”

The teasing criticism made a smile tug on the corners of your lips. As you finished, you began to clean up the aftermath. Cottons, liquids, scissors, all spread around in a mess.

“Yeah, does the expert approve of them? Speaking of, just how many people do you treat around here in your free time that you’re so quick and precise with this?”

Miguel helped you clean up. He smiled, small but warmly, before shaking his head and holding his gaze to yours.

“None. Only you.”

There it was again. That undeniable tug at your heart that somehow had the power to untangle the knot in seconds. 

You couldn’t hide your grin, your hand reaching towards him in an attempt to shove him playfully, but being intercepted by his own and moving it backwards, pulling you forward for a kiss. 

Despite your protesting laugh, you easily leaned into it, letting yourself melt against him, to which he hummed in approval.

It lasted a couple of minutes. The sense of euphoria it arrived with never seemed to grow old.

When you both pulled back, you were breathless, your lips tingling with the aftertaste, and his hair disheveled.

He grinned, his suit recomposing to its original state.

“Does this mean you’ll help me next time too?”

You rolled your eyes, quickly pecking the corner of his mouth before standing up.  

“Mhm. Those medics really can’t be trusted, you know. Tetanus is no joke.”

He nodded full heartedly, following suit.

“Definitely not.”

[thedeathdoctor]

“Tell me who did this to you”

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1k

Summary: You are on a recon mission when everything goes sideways. One of your teammates comes and saves you.

Warnings: Blood? Gore?

A/N: This isn’t proofread in any way and my laptop shut itself down 2 or three times while writing so I continued it on my phone too. So I’m sorry if the pacing is weird but I’m impatient about writing for this man and there was supposed to be smut here but all I do is write exposition I just need to write some damn PWP but my brain needs my fantasies to be exhaustively researched/realistic or it ruins my immersion like come on, just write down all the thoughts about being wrecked by a big masked man its so easy. So to say there will be a part 2 with smut but its 5am and I need to sleep.

You float in a tomb of white hot silence. The first thing seeping in is the ringing, a screaming, ceaseless pain in your ears that banishes all thoughts from your head. Cracking open your eyes, you are greeted with the sight of the torn fatigues covering your mangled legs.

“Huh,” you thought dumbly, “I don’t think they should be bent like that.” Deep red blood spilled out of a tear in the fabric; investigating it revealed a gash so deep located about midway up the inside of your thigh. For a moment, you stared at it with the detachment of observing a punctured wine bag before beginning to return back inside your body which certainly was losing blood alarmingly.

Pressure. Apply pressure. Follow the training.

The pack you carried now lay a few feet away, the blast knocking it away from where you’d set it down nearby.  Your legs were certainly not working and the distance between you and the med kit you carried had been filled with a veritable minefield of shrapnel and debris.

But you had eyes on it.

In your attempt to manually haul one leg over the other, you discovered your broken left wrist as your hand struggled to lift your thigh without the other’s help. Your chest hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of you as you rearranged your body into a crawling position. You couldn’t give in so easily. The team had to know what happened.  

Inch by agonizing inch, you pulled yourself forward towards your pack on bloody forearms.  Thankfully, your plate carrier protected much of your chest, but your arms sustained more damage from the jagged ground. From the floor, the distance expanded into miles, disregarding linear space. Breathing grew damn near impossible as your lungs began to feel as useful as a wet paper bag lodged in your chest. Thick, viscous congestion pooled in the back of your throat, and the attempt of hacking it up just made your chest seize violently in pain. The glob of mucus, aided by gravity, slid slowly over the back of your tongue until you could attempt to spit, the concerning amount of blood mixed in with the saliva taking you by surprise. You didn’t want to think about the implications of that, but your leg still had the higher priority by the way it was leaking.

The moment you were able to hook your fingers into the strap and pull the bag close, you were tearing the whole med kit off the velcro, hastily opening it to find the neatly folded CAT-5 tourniquet inside. Your hands shook violently as you pulled the fabric apart from itself until it was taut, wrapped it around the highest part of your thigh you could manage, and threaded the red tab through the buckle. Grasping the tail of the wrap, you grit your teeth and -pulled- as hard as you could manage with your knuckles whitening before fixing it in place. One turn of the windlass pulled a hiss from your teeth, the second had you seeing stars, but you locked it in place. A lone tear fell involuntarily from the corner of your eye.

The stars persisted in your vision, and you activated your SOS beacon. Clutching the radio to your chest, it took all your remaining strength to hold down the talk button. Dear god, you prayed you were still on the correct channel. Your plea for aid bubbled weakly out of your mouth as you called out for the first person you remembered. The radio crackled out a reply, but by now, you were too far away from your body to hear it. A deep and dreamless sleep creeps up and overtakes you.

Flashes of moments interrupt the abyssal eternity you slip in and out of.

A familiar faceless figure, identity obscured by the image of a grinning skull, dark eyes darting frantically in their recessed sockets. Gloved hands roving gently, exploratorily over your body as you are examined for more wounds.

The rhythmic bounce of your chin off of a hard shoulder, one arm hooked under your bicep and another hooked under your knee. You don’t remember there being so many stairs on your way up before.

Blinding sunlight searing into your eyes, dust being whipped around viciously. The thundering whir of an evac helicopter landing, quite close by. A familiar, distinctly accented voice in conversation with unknown ones.

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. Hell, you had been on active duty for so long that merely waking up in any bed felt unfamiliar. Opening your eyes, you first took in the stark white hospital room you lay in, the smell of sharp antiseptic over the dull baby powder and latex gloves.

You were surprised to see the man resting in the visitors chair, eclipsing it with his massive body.

“Lieutenant?” You croaked, your throat feeling beat to shit.

“Thank fuck. Was worried I’d lost the best damn sniper I’ve ever had, but you still got some fight left in you yet.”

Praise like that was rarely handed out by him, and you certainly did not feel like you’d earned it based on how rough you felt.

Attempting a reassuring smile, you responded. “Takes more than that to put me in the ground, Sir.”

Ghost let out a small chuckle, leaning forward in the chair. His tone grew serious.

"Tell me who did this to you."

“The fucker was tipped off… someone rolled a grenade behind where I was set up… no wonder I didn’t see the car pull up…”

“Mhm.”

You had no idea what he could be thinking, not with his expression hidden behind his mask. You really never knew at any time, the man was a damn enigma.

After a moment of silent contemplation, he rose from the seat, announcing that he needed to speak with Laswell. Before exiting the room, he left you with more words of praise to puzzle over.

“Rest up. You’ve done well, love.”

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

01 clear skies. where you run into the last person you want to see, ushijima

<< 00 guidepost. | >> 02 fly high.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: i’ve made small changes to the prologue that i felt did not line up with the tone of the following chapters… enjoy! - avery word count: 1k warnings: mentions of fear of parents, cursing terms: nii-chan -- older brother, baka -- stupid/foolish

june, first year

“shit” you curse as you run down the school hallways towards the volleyball gym. the violin case slung across your back thudding on your back with each stride, reminding you of your breathlessness.

you had stayed back after practice ended to make sure you had your parts right, and had completely lost track of time. you could only hope your brother is ready to go, otherwise… you shudder at the thought of the consequences of being late. 

pulling back the sleeve of your jacket, you look at the time again. goddamnit, my legs are so slow– shit– you see a shape in front of you out of the corner of your eye and swerve to the other side. shoes skid against the smooth wood floors as you lose your balance. 

to your surprise, your body stops before hitting the floor. your arm was flung out in front of you, bracing for impact against the floor, but it never came. then you felt it, a warm pressure on your other wrist. oh– the person you avoided running into had saved you from falling. 

regaining your balance (and your composure), you straighten and bow, “thank you!” your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment of a stranger seeing your almost fall. 

“you should be more careful” the voice that spoke sounded familiar, deep like the rumbling of the earth. huh? who– you take a peek at the owner of the voice. shorts in the shiratorizawa purple shade, with the standard school issued track jacket of the same shade running down the arms on a white clad torso. your brother’s practice outfit for the boys’ volleyball team. but at the same time, even though you are outside the volleyball gym, it could be any other boys’ sports outfit too, so it couldn’t be, right? 

you raise your head, praying to the gods that never answered you. nope. lady luck is so not on your side today. it is ushijima.

“sorry. i will be more careful next time.” you give him a sheepish smile about your clumsiness, raising a hand to scratch the back of your head. half hoping he would forget about you from the incident a few weeks ago, you slowly inch away from him. (you had not returned to the gym since that day from the embarrassment of your actions that your brother did not let you live down)

he frowns at you. “wait. you are hurt.” 

questions pop in your head. you are not hurt. in fact, he had just saved you from hurting yourself, so you had no idea what he is on about at all. 

you raise your eyebrow at him. earlier panic forgotten and all. he points at his own cheek. “wait here.” oh right. you had snapped a string during orchestra practice earlier. there was a burning sensation where it made contact with your face, but you thought it was just a light graze and forgot about it. 

setting your violin case down next to you, you plop yourself on the steps leading into the gym as you wonder about how serious the wound was to make a complete stranger worry. hm. 

“here.” ushijima returns with the first aid kit from the gym and seats himself next to you while he goes through the contents of the box. he pulls out a disinfectant wipe, some gauze and tape. “it might hurt.”

his hand is gentle against your cheek as you face away from him to give him a good look at the cut. you tense, clenching your teeth as the solution touches your flesh, and it burns. then you feel a cool gel being applied to your wound. the sound of a medical tape being pulled and torn off. he presses the gauze on your face lightly before securing it with the tape.

you touch your face, feeling his handiwork, and where the gauze is sitting on your face. “thanks ushijima-san.” while your older brother had taken care of you since you can remember, patching your wounds from your clumsiness and wiping your tears away when you feel lost, no one else out of your family had taken care of you like this before. or rather, you never had someone who was that close to you. even now, the closest friend you have is semi, and you have known him for a little under two months, with the unlikely friendship that grew between you. 

surprise colors ushijima’s face. “you know my name?” although it comes out more as a statement than a question. 

“my brother told me. he’s the setter on your team.” you fidget with the bandage, worried if he would think that you are weird for asking about him. 

“ah, miyamura-san.” he nods his face in recognition as he stows the items back into the box and clicks it shut. “well then, i will see you around.” 

you dust your skirt off as you stand up with him. “thanks again.” you open your mouth about to say something else before your brother jogs over to the two of you. 

“y/n! there you are. i completely lost of track of time–” he stops abruptly, glancing from the wound on your face to the first aid kit that ushijima is holding. eyes narrowing onto ushijima, “did you hurt my sister?” he places his hand on ushijima’s shoulder solemnly albeit menacingly. 

“nii-chan! it’s your fault! i had to wait so long for you. my violin string snapped during practice and he helped me bandage it,” you smack him in the head and start to drag him away. he makes a non-committal noise, relenting to your actions. 

all this while, both of you did not give ushijima a chance to explain himself. he steps to the side, quietly amused by the antics of you and his normally serious senpai. 

“apologize!”

“you’re siding with an outsider instead of your brother now?!” 

“you were clearly in the wrong!” 

“no!”

you turn and bow to ushijima, silently showing gratitude and apology for your dumb brother’s words before whispering to your brother, “baka, mom is going to kill us both” and just like that, your brother flinches. the shiratorizawa setter who is unshakable on court, flinches at the mention of your mother. 

well, that’s one thing you share in common.

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[anonymityisfunwriter]

Oh my loveliest nonny writer. I'm in great need of some protective Sam vibes, with a sick or hurt reader who hides it to not make a fuss, she's afraid the others think she's too weak to be in the team, cause she's new. But Sam noticing her being hurt or sick and goes all in full blown protective mode. And takes cares of her 🥹😪 and makes sure that she can trust him. 💔

"my loveliest nonny writer" 🥹🥹 i'm swear my heart is ready to explode. you guys are just all so sweet. i hope you enjoy and thank you so much 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader Sam Wilson Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

i'll take care of you.

Sam Wilson is the epitome of caretaker. He is Caretaker with a capital C. He notices something off with you the moment he walks into the conference room, far before anyone else does.

Your head is tipped into your hand, eyes slightly glassy, flushed pallor.

"You look like hell."

You barely move - another sign that you're not feeling good. Your eyes dart over to him as he stands over you, "Thanks."

"Go get some rest. I'll catch you up on anything you miss," Sam offers, concern painting his face.

You wave him off, or at least, you try to wave him off, "I'm fine. It's just allergies."

He presses a hand to your forehead, his lips pursing in distaste, "Allergies don't give you a fever. Go back to bed. I'll check on you when the meeting's over."

You softly grunt in objection, "No."

You know you're being stubborn, but the whole reason you dragged yourself out of bed this morning was to prove a point. You wanted to prove you could handle whatever this team threw at you - even if that was just a little virus.

The point was getting a little murky with the fever, but it was a point nonetheless. You shake your head, making yourself a little dizzy.

"Listen, you're not helping anyone by being here like this. Help us by helping yourself," Sam softly explains like he can see exactly what's going on without you even having to tell him. "And if anyone gives you shit for it, I'll kick their ass. Promise."

"Sam..." you grumble.

"Go or I'll carry you out of here."

Your glare is softened by how miserable you look. "You're really bossy, you know?"

It doesn't stop there. Not with Sam Wilson as your Caretaker.

He was right, even if you don't want to admit it. Because after he sent you away, the second your head hits the pillow, you're out like a light. You're not sure how long you've slept until you're suddenly awoken by Sam's presence.

"Knock, knock," Sam announces himself, entering your room armed with the sick survival kits of sick survival kits.

You sleepily groan, "Aren't you supposed to do that before you walk into a room? How did you even get in here?

"The door," Sam cheekily replies.

"It was locked."

"I may or may not have a key."

"We'll talk about this when I can see straight."

Sam crouches down to the edge of your bed. He presses a hand to your forehead again. "You're still burning up. You might have the flu."

You halfheartedly push him away. "The flu is contagious, Sam. Go away."

"Just let me take care of you."

"You don't have to."

"I want to." He tenderly strokes the hair out of your face. "This would be a lot more romantic if you weren't all sweaty."

"I hate you."

"And in spite of how mean you're being, I brought you a few things." He reaches for his bag, unpacking item by item. "Tissues. Cooling rags. Plenty of fluids, Gatorade, ginger ale, and some tea. But most importantly, my mom's world famous chicken soup. Perfect for when you're feeling sick."

"You take such good care of me," you hum, reaching out and gently stroking his cheek. "My favorite nurse."

"I think you're delirious," Sam chuckles. His heart fluttering at your sweet caress. He reaches over you, pulling your thick cover over you, tucking you in. He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, "I'll always take care of you."

Anon's 1K Celebration Sam Wilson Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064

[kitmoas]

Moya lyubovʹ <3

Description: Wanda in her feels because she's a simp for you, no matter the universe no matter the time or place.

A/N: I am so sorry that the 1k Celebration stuff is taking forever to get out! I have most of them planned or started but keep getting distracted! The playlists and descriptions of why some of the songs are on the list will be under the cut :)

This is about Wanda as a general character I write, except for one song which is for TGU Wanda.

Impossible by James Arthur (Wanda loves to sing this, and it was one of the first songs she learned on her guitar. It has become a comfort song for her)

Untouchable by Taylor Swift (She sings this all the time, even without realizing it, and it's one thing that made you fall in love with her)

Rare by Selena Gomez (Ever since she came from Sokovia she never felt confident in herself, so you sent her this song. Reminding her that she is rare and worth the entire world and now she listens to it daily to smile/think about you)

I GUESS I'M IN LOVE by Clinton Kane (From the moment that Wanda hears this song she is determined to learn how to play piano so that she can sing this properly to you)

Boats & Birds by Gregory and The Hawk (Wanda sings this to you when you're falling asleep. She has it recorded for days that she can't, but she will call you whenever she is away and able to sing you to sleep)

Little Things by One Direction (Her go to sing to you when you're slow dancing in the middle of the night)

cliche by mxmtoon (Wanda sings this to you but she spent months learning the ukulele to play this *specifically in my mind she's singing this to toy, cause they aren't dating but..like.. these are her feelings towards Toy*)

this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker, Chelsea Cutler (As Wanda falls in love with you, she had to find a way to put her thoughts into words.)

ilym by John K, ROSIE (Wanda will sing this to you especially over the phone when she's away from you)

Talking To Strangers by Maisie Peters (Wanda realizes that she can't stop talking about you no matter where in the world or universe she goes. You are always on her mind, and she just can't help herself when she talks to strangers about the best thing to ever happen to her.)

[romiantic]

SIT STILL

SIT STILL, gojo wants to go for a new look and he asks you to help him out

→ READING: gn!reader

→ GENRE + WARNINGS: fluff + college!au, gojo is a flirty lil shit, bisexual gojo (?), piercings, language, gojo crushing on geto (not confirmed)

→ WORD COUNT: 1.7k

→ A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble, I don’t know how it got to more than 1K 🧍🏽‍♀️

“Just one.”

“No.”

“Pleaseeee y/n? Pretty please with cherry on top and strawberry sauce?”

For the past few weeks, your white-haired best friend has been contemplating on getting his ears pierced. The majority of his life, he didn’t give piercings much of a thought, the only thing on his mind was his powers and his strength. But as years went on, and hitting his teenage years, he became fond of staring at piercings, especially his best friend Suguru Geto and yours.

As years go by, yours and geto’s piercing collection became more prominent. Geto’s recent lip piercing and your recent snake bite piercing has Gojo questioning his own looks. Now it’s not out of a place of insecurity, but more out of a “I wanna look this cool like my friends”. which leads to the past few weeks of him asking many many questions about piercings and which ones he should get.

Which also led to him buying a self piercing kit? Listen, he thinks he’s mister “I got it, I can handle it” and he really really really wants to look like a cool kid. In actuality, he just wants to look like Geto but that’s neither here nor there.

Now it’s two am and this lofty, pleading man is on your lap, intruding on your space and begging you to help pierce his ears. He would ask Geto to help but he’s currently busy with Shoko painting his nails. It was a self care night with the group and they decided to have it in your dorm room, though it may not have been the best idea considering how Gojo can be….a few cups of liquor and he isn’t leaving your dorm until three business days later, maybe.

“Y/N if you help, I won’t ask you any more questions and bother you anymore. See, simple as that.” If it was Geto, you would have believed him but considering who Satoru Gojo is, child-like, loving, annoying, and lively, that statement would be a lie and a half.

“Gojo, I'm ignoring you.” You try to pry him off your lap but his body would not budge, he sat in front of you with eyes that pleaded for dear life and a pout that only a toddler can make. He holds out the piercing kit but you ignore him by scrolling through your phone.

The man child in front of you huffs and starts sighing as you pay him no mind. He fakes his exit off your lap, pretending to slowly get up but also paying attention to how you’re reacting, nothing but an eye roll. A failed mission Gojo thinks and sinks back down to your lap, you were startled by the amount of body weight that was placed on you.

“ ‘toru get off of me, you’re heavy.” You give another attempt to remove him from your lap and yet another failure. He pouts and crosses his arm, puffing out air like a child who just got denied his favorite ice cream for dinner.

“Not until you help me.”

“If i do, will you sit somewhere else and not on my lap? That you are currently crushing.”

He rolls his eyes at your comment, “Geez y/n, I’m not that heavy.”

“Yeah and I’m not the smartest ever.”

“Well-”

You quipped your brow and interrupted any slick comment that he could say, “Don’t start, your IQ is lower than your gpa and that’s saying something. Just give me the stupid gun and the earrings.” You snatched the items out of his hands and was met with a hug from Gojo, the hug felt heavy from his body lunging onto yours but also comforting. Gojo squeezes the side of your body as he hugs tighter, almost like he doesn’t want the hug to end. You wouldn’t mind the hug if A, the hug didn’t feel like air just got sucked out of you and B, you didn’t have his ears to pierce.

“Okay Gojo, you can let go now.” Arms still linked around your torso and chest laid on yours. “Gojo?” No response but you feel the tip of his nose tickle your neck. “Gojo, I’m counting to three and if you’re still on me by three, kiss that damn piercing goodbye. Now one-”

He releases from the compacted space between you and him. He fixes himself and apologizes quickly for the hug, “Sorry sorry, you just smell nice, like really nice.” He feels cheeks warming and red hues painting his fair skin, he feels the sense of awkward airing in the living room. He drags his hands through his cheeks, to hide the blush, and turns his head only slightly.

You clear your throat, “Umm thanks, it’s a new scent I picked up recently. Nothing too special.” You as well feel the awkwardness between the two of you, until you see a sly smile curling on gojo’s face.

“You know what is special? me and-”

“You are one hundred times cuter when you keep your mouth closed, let’s keep it that way.” Now the awkwardness is gone and is filled with laughter from gojo and annoyance from you. You roll your eyes at his terrible attempt at flirting, which never ever goes right. He does have his cute moments, sometimes.

“Awww y/n you think I’m cute? You know, you’re not so bad yourself.”

“Please just shut up and move closer so I can dot your ears.” He responds with a child-like smile and shifts his body to have his ears face you. He starts to ramble on how cool he’ll think he looks with his new piercing, how he’ll get him, you, and Geto to have matching piercings, the future piercings he is already planning on, blasé blasé. Don’t mind him though, he’s talking from a place of nervousness and not trying to pay too much attention as you prepare his ears.

You notice as he continues to talk about piercings, he brings comparison of different ones he wants and uses Geto’s piercing as a visual. You don’t pay too much mind to it since Gojo does talk about Geto a lot but during this time of Gojo’s rambles, you notice that certain aspects of his facial features are more enlightened than others as he mentions either you or his best friend.

As he talks about yours and Geto’s piercing, his face is tinted a very light pink and his eyes show a sign of admiration. His eyes are lightened from their typical sky blue to a brighter hue, one that could display fragments of sparkles that you can find on the ocean as the sun hits.

You interrupts Gojo’s rambling, “Gojo you’re not doing this cause of Geto are you?”

The tint of pink becomes darker and the once confident gojo is now stuttering, “N-no, what makes you say that?” He tries to fix himself to look more nonchalant but his facial expression says otherwise.

“Well you’ve mentioned him…a lot, for the past like twelve minutes. I’m just trying to make sure you’re doing this cause you wanna do this, not cause of someone else.”

Instantly his flirting skills return, to cover up his own personal embarrassment, and he becomes flirtatious as ever, “Are you jealous that I’m mentioning Geto? I can talk about you too pretty.”

Another eye roll from you is given as a response, “And this is where I permanently stop talking to you.”

He smirks and snakes his arm around you, pulling your body closer. “You want me y/n, it’s okay, you can admit. I mean look at me, who doesn’t want me?”

You mumble to yourself, “Certainly not Geto,” You roll your eyes again and shift away from where Gojo pulled you to, “now hold still, don’t move, don’t even flinch okay?”

“If I get hurt from it, will you kiss it?”

“Or how about you listen and just don’t move?” Gojo rolls his eyes and sits patiently as you position the piercing gun on his ear. You can feel his body shaking a little as you go, you try to help by practicing this breathing technique with him. One breath in, one breath out and then two breaths in, two breaths out. You ask if he’s okay and he responds with a gleaming smile and a thumbs up.

You count to three and click the gun through his right ear. Gojo winces but isn’t dramatic about the pain, which is a shocker. You were going to make a joke but you knew he would turn it right into flirting, thus letting the joke sit well in your brain instead.

You move over to his left ear, counting down again, and clicking the gun through his ear. He winces again, the same result as his right ear. You back away to make sure that the earrings are on equal distance but instead entranced by Gojo’s attraction. Who knew something as simple as earrings can make a man attractive? Captivating? Cute? A man like Gojo is already attractive enough with his ever so impeccable features and his pretty boy smile, but earrings on him made him look more smug? One way to put it.

You catch yourself staring at Gojo as he checks himself out on your phone’s camera. As annoying as he can be, there’s no denying his heightened attraction with these new piercings on him, something just something about it makes you wanna continue to watch him as he poses. Until he says something that’ll have you regret talking to this man yet again.

You snatch your phone out of his hand and scroll through the many photos he took. You pretend to be annoyed but your cheeks poke just a little as you look through, though you wouldn’t dare fill this man’s ego by reacting ever so cutely. Yet, your smile grows but is gone as soon as Gojo speaks.

“You think I look like your cool ass boyfriend now or what?”

“You look like a loser, somebody needs to steal your lunch money.”

“What kind of loser still carries cash?”

That alone starts the arguments of how cash is better than cards and Gojo flaunting his new piercings to Geto. The night ends peacefully, with Gojo’s new look stuck to your mind, alluring and memorable. You try not to pay too much attention but his new look has you stealing glances and hiding your face away. Shoko notices but says nothing and lets the night pass by between the four of you.

���𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @stqrriichiigo @jackibrown @mypimpademia — if you would like to be added to the taglist, fill out the form on my masterlist or let me know in my inbox !

⭑ tried to show some bisexual representation to my people, especially bisexual boys 🫶🏽. if you're a bit confused, gojo has a crush on geto and y/n as well. his crush on geto is deeper than his crush on y/n tho

⭑ college!au are so much fun to write and I wanna write moreeeeee

⭑ never writing a whole ass fic on a school night, AGAIN 💀

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST + MAIN MASTERLIST

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[lost-in-lamentation]

Hello, hope you are fine?? I got a request...if you want?

GN MC is in the human realm where they get a tesx message saying "something weird is going on...look outside" they go outside and see what looks like shooting stars but its actaully angels falling to Earth. A lot and one falls directly in MC'S view which is Simeon, both their reaction

a/n: i’m doing great anon, i hope you’re doing fine as well!

request: a very familiar face lands right outside your front door.

content: decided not to elaborate on why this happened to simeon, instead just focused on you taking care of him.

warnings: there is blood and injuries. simeon is hurt badly, but not fatally.

simeon x gen!reader. hurt/comfort. word count: 1k.

“don’t forget to check outside later, they said there might be another meteor shower closer to midnight!

“will do, will do. i’ll see you at work on monday.” you waved at thin air, pretending your friend on the other side of the line could see you.

“g’night, MC!” they called before cutting the connection.

“good night indeed,” you hummed to yourself, placing your phone down on the coffee table in front of you. the idea that you might catch the meteor shower excited you, but you couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that sat in your gut. there had been rumours circulating after the last meteor shower; rumours that said it wasn’t just matter from space dropping to the ground. with a sigh, you turned your t.v. on, scrolling through your streaming services while occasionally throwing a glance out the window. eventually, with your show playing in the background, you fell asleep, a blanket haphazardly thrown across your legs. you would have spent the night there, if not for a loud crash waking you in the middle of the night.

gasping, you tried your best to scramble off the couch to the window, legs still tangled with the fleece blanket. when you saw nothing on your front lawn, you quickly turned around, heading to your backyard. panic took over when you saw some of your furniture knocked over, and fear grabbed the reins on your emotions when you saw something move in the far back corner next to your fence. your hands fumbled around in your pockets for your phone, before remembering you had left it in the living room. you sprinted for it, snatching it off the table before returning to the backyard. you inhaled sharply, gathering your courage just as you slid the door open and flicked your flashlight on. “who’s there?”

you heard a weak, yet very familiar laugh. “i wonder… if this is his last blessing to me-” the voice stopped to catch his breath. “or a cruel joke.”

shakily, you turned your flashlight towards the voice, internally begging to yourself that you were imagining things. when the light from your phone hit the figure, you reached towards him with your other hand, staggering forward until you could kneel in front of the (fallen) angel. “simeon… simeon, is it really you?” the normally pure white clothes that draped over his shoulders were soiled and bloody, ripping at the seams and falling away from his body. simeon’s dulled eyes met yours as he opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by a harsh cough that shook his core. “ah- okay, don’t talk yet,” you winced. “i’m bringing you inside.” with concerningly less effort than you thought you needed, you pulled simeon into your arms, hooking one arm underneath his legs and the other supporting his back. he groaned when you started taking steps, head falling onto your shoulder while you murmured apologies from above him.

as gently as you could, you laid simeon down in your bathtub, caressing his face with a thumb before running away to get your first aid kit. you’d barely been gone 30 seconds, but by the time you returned, simeon was already passed out; most likely from his injuries, you assumed. you bit your lip nervously, running some towels underneath the tap to dampen them before sitting on the edge of the tub and leaning down to clean the blood off the angel. simeon stirred at the feeling, grimacing as his eyes fluttered open to look at you.

“thank you,” simeon breathed out, shifting his position so he could lean his head against your leg instead of the wall.

you swallowed a sigh, leaning back to swap your towel with a fresh one. “no need for thanks,” you replied, one hand carding through his hair while the other continued to wipe off the red stains on his arm. “i have to clean your other arm, simeon.” he hummed in disappointment, but tilted away from you so you could reach the arm closest to you. as soon as he felt your hands leave his shoulder, he fell back towards you, head landing on your thigh. you knew he was too tired to lift his head up properly, but you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you when you saw his now peaceful expression. “you’re making it very difficult to get you fixed up,” you carried on, carefully peeling off the bloodstained clothes that clung to simeon’s skin.

“i’m sorry, you’re just so warm,” simeon murmured before pulling away.

“that’s the blood loss speaking,” you replied, humoured. after you finished bandaging his arms and torso, you shifted your attention to his legs, which somehow had managed to avoid sustaining damage during his fall. “why’d you fall, simeon?” you asked, quiet yet abrupt. his half lidded eyes gazed into yours, the usual light blue shine muted.

“let’s save that for another time.” simeon turned to face you, pushing himself up with what little strength he had left. “i think we should both get some rest.” he spoke quietly, voice trembling just as badly as his legs.

quickly, you shot up from your spot on the tub ledge, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him steady. “be careful,” you chided, ready to scold him, but you stopped when you felt his hand suddenly grip onto yours. you sighed for the millionth time that night, helping him step out of the tub. “come on.” slowly, you guided simeon to your bedroom, having him lay down before pulling the covers over his shaking figure. “i’ll be in the living room if you need me, okay? just shout-”

“MC,” simeon whispered, a hand shooting out from under the covers to grab your wrist. “please don’t abandon me,” he pleaded, tears collecting in his eyes before they scattered across his face like stars.

your jaw quivered with sadness, hearing the desperation in his voice. you smiled sadly at him, nodding before you pulled the covers back, climbing onto the bed and into the spot next to simeon. “i won’t abandon you. ever.” you cradled him close, avoiding the open scars on his body as best you could.

“do you promise?” he asked, wobbly breaths accompanying the question.

you had never heard simeon sound so lost; so betrayed. “i promise,” you assured him, bringing his face to your chest. you said nothing more as he cried himself to sleep, wondering if heaven was really worth it, if they refused to claim even the purest soul you had ever known.

a/n: i always hate august because it always ends up being my busiest month of the year. aka i'm dying. please wish dear author some good luck as she bakes multiple wedding cakes later this week.

[thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles]

Just Hold Me, Please

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, blood, drug addiction relapse, Ward, some violence but it doesn't really happen?, my shitty writing because I was sleep-deprived while writing this (as is my norm apparently)

WC: 1k

His hair is disheveled, and his eyes are bloodshot. A near-empty bottle of tequila hangs from his hand. He's loosened his tie and relinquished his suit jacket to the mercy of the floor. A bruise is blooming on his cheekbone, and his eye is almost swollen shut because of it. There are tear streaks on his cheeks. Blood trails from his temple and the corner of his mouth, and drips onto his white button-up.

Rafe’s breath falters, coming in hard pants, ragged from crying and over-exertion. The floor creaks faintly, unobtrusively. Rafe whirls, eyes glowing with anger and brimming with tears.

Y/n freezes where she stands, hands flying up in a motion of surrender.

“Hey, baby.”

Rafe set his jaw and sat down on his bed. “What do you want?”

“I… I just wanted to check up on you. Is that okay?”

“You’ve checked on me. Can you leave now?”

“Rafe--”

In a quick movement, Rafe flung the bottle at the wall by his door, mere inches from Y/n. It shattered, and the little amount of tequila left in the bottom dripped down the wall.

“Hey, you don't--”

“Don’t tell me I don’t have to be violent. I’ll be fucking violent if I want to be, okay?”

Rafe’s eyes were wide, danger lurking under the surface of his psychotic look. Y/n stepped back, just outside Rafe’s room.

“Go on, get out of here!” Rafe’s bottom lip quivered.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rafe.”

“You will. Everyone else does once they find out.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God.” Her eyes shot past Rafe and landed on a bag on his nightstand. The inside was still coated in a white powdery residue.

“You relapsed.”

“Shut up!” Rafe roared, hands coming up in a hostile move, but he didn't touch her. His fists were clenched, veins pulsing hotly.

“Rafe--”

“Get the fuck out of here, Y/n. I’m warning you, bitch.”

“Did he hit you?”

Rafe stumbled back as if she’d hit him. “No. He’d never hit me--”

“Sweetheart--” Rafe leaned backward as Y/n reached up and cradled his face. His breathing stuttered and an almost-sob shook through his body.

“You can tell me anything, darling. I promise I’ll do the best I can to fix it.”

Rafe shook his head. “I can't.”

She tilted her head, almost looking like a lost puppy. “Why not?”

Rafe blinked back tears. “I just-- I can’t.”

Y/n’s eyes softened and she nodded.

“Okay, baby.” She looked at him a moment, quizzicality making itself known in her raised eyebrows. “Do you want me to help you clean up?”

He nodded. As she let go of him and moved to step away, he wrapped his arms around her, hiding his face in her neck, body heaving with sobs.

“Do-Don’t go, please. Don’t le-leave me.”

“Oh, Rafe.” Y/n rubbed his back, right between his shoulder blades. He continued to sob into her neck and he gripped her hips tightly, grounding himself.

“My baby boy,” Y/n whispered into his ear, pressing sweet kisses on his shoulder. She guided him backward and sat him on the bed. Her fingers made their way up his back and into his hair, where she scratched comfortingly at his scalp.

“Baby, baby,” She soothed, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head. “You’re okay, alright? I promise.” Rafe’s arms encircled her waist and his chin sat at her hp. His last few tears dripped onto her shorts and she continued to play with his hair. His hands slipped from her waist to the backs of her thighs. He looked up at her, eyes wet and bluer than ever.

Y/n smiled faintly. “You wanna get cleaned up, change your clothes?”

Rafe’s tired nod was pitiful and she swept a stray strand of hair out of his face.

“You change your clothes, alright? I’ll get the first aid kit and clean up that glass.”

Rafe’s bottom lip jutted out in an inadvertent pout.

“I’ll be gone for two minutes, max. Okay?”

He reluctantly let go of her, and Y/n kissed his forehead before going to the bathroom. In the mirror, she could see the tearstains on the neck and shoulder of her shirt. She reached under the counter for the first aid kit and returns to Rafe’s room.

Rafe is staring into the full-length mirror in his room, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes unsure of what they were seeing.

“Baby?” Y/n questions from the door, her eyebrows crinkling to match his.

Rafe tugged at his shirt, undoing a few buttons. “I look like shit.”

“No, babe, you look fine.”

“I look like a Pogue.”

Y/n scoffed before setting the kit on his bed and helping him out of his shirt. “You look tired, that’s all. Let’s clean you up, yeah?”

Rafe fixes her with a look. “I do look like shit. You can’t deny that.”

“Whatever you want to say, darling. Put on your sweatpants and lay down for me.”

Rafe complies as Y/n sits on the bed, pulling out the things she needs to make her boyfriend pretty again. He lays his head in her lap and looks up at her.

“Ready?”

Rafe makes a face. “The antiseptic stings, though.”

“It’ll make you pretty again. Less pogue-y.”

Rafe huffs and turns his head, exposing the swelling and blood on the side of his face.

Y/n soaks a cotton ball with antiseptic and drags it across Rafe’s jaw. “Your dad did this?”

He nodded, pain hidden behind screwed-shut eyes.

“Because you relapsed?”

Rafe clenched his teeth. “I stole from him to pay for the coke, so… yeah.”

“Horseshit.” Rafe’s eyes snapped open to meet hers. She’d stopped cleaning the side of his face and looked at him with fire in her eyes. “I told you to come see me if you felt like you needed something. You didn’t have to steal from him!”

“I-I know. It was-- I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to know.”

“You can tell me anything, Rafe. You know that I’d protect you and be on your side no matter what. Right?”

Rafe nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby.” Y/n set the case on the nightstand and pulls down Rafe’s sheets. “Hop under, sleepyhead.”

Rafe yawned, a soft smile on his face. He scooted up his bed and worked his way under the sheets.

“You’ll stay, right?”

“Yes, sir, I will. ‘M gonna clean that up first.” She pointed at the broken glass.

“You promise you’ll stay?”

“Swear on my life, Rafe. I’d never leave you alone.”

[chalkscene]

tokyo revengers ⇢ “JUST A LOOK FROM YOU, I COME UNDONE” ft. ran haitani

song: 4 ever 4 me by demi lovato

wc: 1k

warnings: none except maybe ran is a little ooc

note: this is for @iitoshi’s the only truth is music collab. sorry for being late but thank you for letting me join!! happy new year <3

“there. all done,” you finally speak, though softly, after a stretch of silence and with a careful touch, you run your thumb along the bandage over the deep wound on ran’s eyebrow.

“thanks,” he mutters.

you’d think he’d be used to obtaining some cuts and bruises by now but from the moment he got home from a gang brawl tonight, all you’ve sensed from him is the absence of his familiar smugness and nonchalance—paradoxically speaking—as he looks a bit more pained than usual and you hate it.

you hate seeing him like this.

you look around the room in search for anything to lighten the mood when you see, propped up right in a corner is his baton.

in a lightbulb moment, you shoot up from your seat, excitement tingling at your fingertips as you stride across the room to retrieve your boyfriend’s weapon. you anticipate it to be heavy in your hand but surprisingly, you lift it with enough ease.

when you finally get a good look at it, you immediately notice the scratches on the surface—some more visible than the others—and the material has lost its shine, too. but despite the quality deteriorating from years of usage, you can only assume it still does the job to ran’s standard as he carries it around with him to this day.

you’re certain he used it tonight but you don’t focus on that. you have a different purpose in mind.

“ran, look.”

at the sound of your voice, he spins in his seat and as soon as his eyes land on you, you fix your stance and raise the baton. with a grin, you begin to twirl it in your hand like a majorette.

for a moment, ran only looks at you with the most unreadably impassive expression you’ve ever seen him pull off but you don’t get a chance to decipher it as a ghost of a smile soon appears on his lips.

it’s working, you think.

“you’re gonna hurt yourself.” his warning comes out halfheartedly, amusement now written all over his face.

“i won’t.” you beam with pride as you refuse to let it deter you but as if on cue, the weapon hits you just above your eyebrow. “shit.”

you hiss in pain, prompting you to drop the baton and let it clank on the floor. you expect ran to panic but he only pinches the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh then he gestures at you to walk back to your chair.

“told you so.” he sounds tired but looking closely, you notice his mouth is still quirked up at the corners—and smugly so—as he grabs the first aid kit to patch you up this time.

“shut up,” you grumble, slumping back into your seat. “you distracted me.”

he snickers. “just stay still.”

you take a deep breath, steeling yourself from the pain that may possibly come with the pressure from ran’s hand but as he begins to dab a small piece of cotton on your wound, there’s only a sharp sting from the disinfectant. it doesn’t last long though, as he gently blows on the small injury to soothe the pain.

right here, you see the difference between ran haitani and ran. just ran.

countless times you’ve witnessed his lips curl with sinister as the images of other people’s torment surely flashed in his mind. you’ve held his hands and wiped them clean of blood—and more often than not, it wasn’t his. but as he cradles your face in his palm, you realize that his iron fist has a polarizing featherlight touch, delicate and benign when he wants it to be.

either way, he makes you feel equally safe.

staring at your boyfriend’s face that is currently etched with focus, you take a mental picture of the situation—a notorious gangster tending to a civilian’s wound. you can’t help but find it hilarious.

“what’s so funny?” ran asks.

“we’re matching,” you reply with a giggle, pointing at the gauze on his eyebrow.

he can’t help but reciprocate your mirth with a chuckle of his own. “i can’t believe you’re enjoying this.”

“guess i got desensitized by dating a delinquent,” you retort. “you should put me in your gang. someone’s gotta help rindou cover your ass.”

“who did this to you again?” he presses a finger over your self-inflicted wound, applying just enough force to elicit a wince from you without hurting you severely. “not a chance.”

then there it is.

ran simply watches your irises glide along your upper lash line when you roll your eyes at his reply and as you soon fixate on his purple ones, staring right into his soul, he can only find the love you hold for him in each sparkle of your eye.

and if each sparkle were a star, your eyes would be an endless vast of a twinkling sky—infinitely more than ran knows he deserves and yet, it’s a constellation that’s just for him to see.

ran’s never been one to thank a higher power for being alive but in that moment, he finds himself doing so.

maybe it’s his whole life being tangled up in delinquency that made him too reckless, too bold for his own good but death was never his biggest fear. maybe he never feared it at all.

before he met you. before he found something—someone—to protect that wasn’t just him and his brother. before he found the one person who managed to blunt all his edges.

as the mere thought of it terrifies him still to an unfamiliar extent, he comes to an epiphany that he’s been wary of the wrong people this whole time.

it’s you who will be the death of him.

“earth to ran…” your voice snaps him out of his reverie. “you okay?”

and just like that, his heartbeat picks up the pace like it’s the first time all over again.

it’s so uncharacteristic of him, he thinks. not even a matter of life or death has ever made every nerve in his body go haywire yet you did it with the utterance of his name alone, its cadence so smooth and melodious.

“yeah,” he tells you anyway. “i feel better.”

[musings-of-a-rose]

Hi, congratulations on 1000 followers, you really have no idea how much your writing helps me, thank you.

Can I request 15, 16 and 45 from the Fluff Prompt List? with Frankie? thank you, again <3

I'm Right Here

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word Count: 1k+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I hadn’t intended to be the one writing for my 1k followers, purely because I have a lot going on (I’m good - it’s just life!) and I knew I wouldn’t have the time to dedicate to writing a ton of prompts. But I wanted to write this one! Initially, I saw something very angsty with these prompts, but considering you chose them off the fluffy list, I decided to stick with a fluffy theme.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

“You’re hurt. Please, just let me help you.”

Frankie shakes his head, immediately groaning and rubbing his temples.

“I’m o-”

“Don’t you dare say ok. That guy got a few good hits in.”

Frankie cracks open an eye to glare at you. “I won that fight.”

“Ok, Benny. You may have won but that doesn’t mean you aren’t hurt.”

“I can do it mysel- fuck!!” Frankie tries to stand from the couch but slumps back, hand clutching at his side. 

“I’m right here, you stubborn ass. Let me help you.”

Frankie sighs, finally giving in, shoulders slumping back, wincing at the motion. “Ok. You win.”

You pull out a small first aid kit, grateful that you had one stashed in your bathroom. Your hand comes up to gently hold his chin, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin as you dab at the gash on his cheek. His eyes are on your face, as if he’s taking you in. 

“Why did you fight that guy?”

Frankie is silent a moment. “He was a jerk.”

You chuckle. “I’m not debating that but why fight him? He was twice your size. You’re a skilled fighter which is the only reason you’re walking away from this with a handful of injuries. What did he say?”

Frankie’s eyes don’t quite meet yours, looking away. He shifts nervously where he sits. “He- he was just saying jerk things.”

“Frankie?”

“Don’t worry about it. Ouch!” You had dabbed a bit of rubbing alcohol on his cut, making sure it was disinfected from the other man’s rings that had gouged into his skin.

“It’s not like you to just fight a guy, Frankie.”

“Look, just-” He moves his face from your grip “-forget IT HOLY SHIT WARN A GUY!”

You had cut him off by placing ice on his bruised ribs, causing Frankie to nearly jump out of his skin. Laughing, you move your hand and replace it with his to hold the ice in place. 

“Don’t be a baby. It’s just ice.”

“It’s fucking cold.”

“That’s what will help the bruising. But don’t change the subject.” You fix him with a look and his eyes soften.

“I-I don’t want to say.”

“Frankie, I’m a big girl. I can take it. What did he say?”

Frankie’s eyes meet yours. “When you turned him down, he said a bunch of terrible shit about you. I’m not going to repeat it.”

“So, wait…did you beat that guy up to..defend me?”

Frankie nods, looking down at his hand that was holding the ice. “Yeah. I wasn’t gonna let him talk shit about you.”

“Oh Frankie. Why would you do that? I mean, I appreciate it but it’s not worth you getting hurt over it.”

“Is it not obvious?” He’s speaking to me but his eyes remain on his hands.

“Isn’t what obvious?”

He’s silent now, obviously nervous about whatever he wants to say.

“Frankie, look at me.” He sighs, bringing his deep eyes up to mine. 

“We’ve known eachother since what, the 3rd grade? You yelled at Timothy Mattheson when he pulled on my braids? We’ve been best friends since then. You can tell me any-”

“I’m in love with you.”

“I- you’re what?”

He sighs, nodding slightly. “I’m in love with you.”

“But..for how long?”

“Since the third grade when I yelled at Timothy Matteson.”

Tears well up in your eyes. You had had a crush on Frankie since then too, but you’d always told yourself it was one sided. There was no way that Frankie liked you in that same way and you were too terrified to lose him as a friend to ever ask.

“Look, you don’t have to feel the same way about me. It’s ok. But could…could you just…hold me? For just a moment. Before you break my heart?”

As if I could ever hurt you.

“If I hold you, I’m never letting you go.”

Frankie’s eyes snap to mine, a slight glimmer of hope in them. “What?”

“I love you, Francisco Morales. And I have ever since we met.”

Frankie throws his ice pack on the couch, wincing as he sits up, his hands coming up to hold your cheeks. He hesitates only briefly, his eyes studying yours before he pulls you in, lips gently brushing against yours. Losing yourself in the kiss, you reach forward blindly to grab at his shirt, but your fingers poke at his bruised ribs and he breaks the kiss to swear.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s ok.” He lets out a breath of pain. “I want to kiss you so bad but maybe we should wait for this-” he gestures to his ribs which are turning a dark, angry purple color “-to heal a bit?”

“I think that’s fair.”

Frankie beckons you to him, cuddling you up on his opposite side. You swear you can feel him practically purring with happiness and you’re sure he feels the same from you. 

-------

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