#I have gone through so many drafts of this

[yokofox6]

@quasar-crew

How to Solve a Murder and Incite a Rebellion lives in my brain rent free but this particular scene has had me in a death grip since chapter 5 was posted

[thatimageoftomscott]

tom scott finally beating the egg allegations by losing on jet lag the game s13.

[cerbreus]

moodboard for the rest of this week

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Me staring at the Triangulum prologue: Alright, it's been almost two years and you're gonna get published in a little over a week. I know you're scared and I know I've read you a thousand times by this point, but you're good. You're good and hopefully the people are going to love you.

[lilacgaby]

title: i've changed, won't you see?

pairing: prohero!katsuki x reader

summary: katsuki ruined your life when you were small, giving you a life altering injury, though getting nothing more than a pat on the back. throughout his successes he can't get you out of his mind, so he sets out to make amends with you.

tags: silent voice inspired!! childhood bully katsuki :(, disabled reader, mentions of violence, angst to fluff, su1cide attempt, comfort, implied nsfw, no proofread

(a/n: i wanted to give my hand at really long works while doing drabbles in between but i have so many drafts now jajsjsj)

wc: ~4k

your eyes were always blurry around him it seemed. your hands shaking as your voice cracked, just begging him. "please leave me alone!" with all the might a five year old could muster.

they scoffed at you, they always did. "crybaby. blame your parents for not giving you a quirk. you should've moved when i told you to anyways, it's my park dont you know?" katsuki mocked, moving closer to you, noticing the card behind your back.

"stop being so mean! quirkless people don't do anything wrong!"

"quirkless don't do anything."

your chest was heaving with pain, your little heart couldn't take it. "you-- you'll never be a hero, you're too mean!"

in an act of rage, he set off an explosion. it was only meant to intimidate you but..

once the smoke settled your screams of terror filled the playground.

blood dripped on the floor, pooling in your hand as your grasped your ear. a ringing was all you could hear, it was driving you crazy.

were you crying? you couldn't tell, you couldn't hear. your eyes were shut as you were filled with panic, the smell of iron flooding your senses.

but katsuki remembered so much more.

the smell of the burned cartilage of your ear, the sight of it, or rather the lack of. the blood that wouldn't stop coming, why wasn't it stopping?

his group that usually rallied behind him was now gone, leaving him and a wailing you alone. he tried to talk to you, but you weren't responding.

he grew the courage to touch you, tapping on your shoulder slowly, but that didn't comfort you. in fact he thought it made it worse, making you bow your head in a defensive position.

he stared at you, unable to move, he was supposed to be a hero like allmight, were you right?

finally, a teacher came running to get you, an ambulance already on the way. they didn't look at katsuki, only at the pitiful state you were in.

you didn't respond to them either.

katsuki felt sick as he stood where you and the teacher had left them. he felt sick as he looked down to the remains of what he'd done to you.

he couldn't process it yet, but he felt a sickening despair and guilt be placed upon his shoulders.

one that wouldn't disappear.

he wasn't blamed for anything, only getting a quirk consolation. they thought he lost control? his parents eyed him as he tried to explain what had truely happened, he didn't know why he was trying, did he want to get punished?

but even after, nothing was done. with a lecture and a couple promises he was sent back to class with nothing done to him.

your life was changed forever though, it was apparent in the way that you seemed even more quiet and closed off. you sat in the back, never spoke to anyone, and got teary eyed when he even stood close to you.

your hair covered your ears constantly, a hearing aid peeking through the strands occasionally. the teacher never forced you to participate, none of them ever made an effort.

the teacher had explained to the class how you were completely deaf in one ear, and extremely hard of hearing in the other. how you'd use sign language from now on, and that the class would learn some in support. they never did though, the conversation going ignored as soon as it was uttered.

you were pulled out of class often, the teacher having to tap you on the shoulder to get your attention. your eyes dejected and your presence small as the person who came to get you made gestures with their hands to you.

you'd been cruelly placed in matching classes 'til your last years of junior high. you'd stayed the same way for forever, it was like a weight placed over his chest.

yet he felt he deserved it. he knew he was messed up. he watched you, a lot. he saw you in the back corners, usually forgotten and ignored. when you were acknowledged you were mocked, people making random hand signs to make fun of the way he forced you to communicate, mocking your unconfident speech right after.

he saw the way you sunk into yourself afterwards, making his heart hurt as you grew impossibly smaller. your hands held your own as you prayed for it to be over.

everytime you'd catch him in the halls, you'd still freeze up. your breath shaky as you bowed and left quickly, making his friends laugh but make him queasy.

that interaction was witnessed by your teacher who, after a day of you not showing up, assigned him to give you your work for the day.

with sweaty palms and a racing heart, he dropped by your house. he knew where it was, of course he did, your mom and his were close industry friends even after the incident.

because you'd never told anyone about what he'd do to you.

he knocked on the door, attempting to seem nonchalant. when you answered though, he felt his heart lurch in his chest.

"[name], uh-- this is your work."

you didn't respond, you looked almost nauseous at the sight of him, it was deserved though.

he placed your work on the floor and walked off, that was the only time he'd spoken to you since the incident,

and he couldn't even apologize.

- - -

U-A wouldn't only be a dream for him, but a release for you both. was it selfish to want to run away from his problems? sure, but it'd help you too.

as everyone in the class exclaimed the names of the schools they picked, unsurprised at katsuki's choice, he pondered on where you'd go.

nobody asked you, so you didn't speak. staying quiet as you looked out the window.

katsuki got accepted into U-A easily, but he couldn't help but feel he lacked the main criteria. he'd hurt people poorly, and couldn't apologize because of his ego.

he felt sick to accept these accomplishments of his, knowing it'd be built up on the foundation of hurting you.

but he did anyway, selfishly. he kept up his harsh demeanor in U-A anyways, working hard and scoring high. he graduated top of his class, job offers to agencies left and right.

he accepted one, working for his old internship officially now. he climbed the ranks quickly, saving lives and catching the attention of the media.

a couple years later, he was a steady number five hero when he took a patrol route over for deku. as he strolled through the city, stores littering the buildings, he saw someone he never thought he'd see again.

you, only now working for your mothers seamstress company. you were embroidering something on the station, hands precise and focused, not noticing him.

he had to keep moving, but.. he made a mental note to come back later.

he finished his patrol anxious, he went to sleep thinking of what he'd even say to you. 'hey sorry for ruining your life, can you forgive me?' he slapped his forehead in frustration.

he searched up basic sign language for beginners, learning a bit. he laughed at the stupid thoughts of your forgiveness that he dreamt of.

"as if i deserve it." he muttered, looking deeply at the ceiling of his room before falling asleep.

as soon as he awoke, he got dressed and prepared. he tried to look causal, as if he wasn't planning this.

he walked in, immediately greeted by your mother who congratulated him on his heroics. "well isn't that dynamite? saving the world i see."

he laughed politely. "i'll be number one soon enough."

"of course! well, what're you looking for? i'll give you a family discount, you grew up so close to [name] didn't you?"

his heart jumped into his throat.

"uh.. we did."

"you two were so adorable! she was so nervous around you, she must've had a crush on you or something!"

"i definitely don't think so."

"oh, you're just being modest." she said, hitting his arm lightly. "there she is now, go and speak to her."

"uh-- i--"

"go!" she shoved him in your direction, making you look up to see him. your lips parted in an unrecognizable expression as you saw him, the line you were working on now crooked as you were left alone together.

it's been about ten years hadn't it? ten years since he last saw you, but a lifetime he needed to apologize for.

he'd learned so much in U-A, outwardly changing his demeanor to what he always aspired to be. but all that meant nothing to you, who only experienced him at his worst.

he awkwardly raised his hand up to you, he did his best to sign while speaking, his hands shaky and unconfident. "hi [name], i'm really sorry about what happened back then."

your eyes followed the movements, your hands absentmindedly wrapping around yourself loosely, defensively.

"i know this is a lot but,

can we be friends?"

he waited anxiously for you to answer, you looking as if you were processing it.

in a grown up, yet timid voice, one that he hadn't heard since you were young, you almost whispered, signing as you did so out of reflex. "thank you, bakugo." your eyes grew watery. great, he just couldn't seem to stop making you cry.

he sat near you after getting wordless permission to, hanging onto every word you spoke, and being mindful to speak in a calm tone himself.

"i.. i'd like a friend, honestly. a new one anyways."

he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you said that, but still, it wasn't enough.

he wanted to, no needed to make you happy. the years of torment he subjected you to couldn't be made up by anything less than years of happiness.

after a bit of small talk, him asking you questions about what you'd been up to, how your life was treating you. he zoned out a couple times, thinking of how beautiful you've become.

"what would make you happy, [name]?" he finally said, his head supported on his hand as he gazed at you, making sure to enunciate his words so you could read his lips.

"what makes you ask?"

"i-- i want to make you happy. no matter the cost, it's what you deserve."

she laughed softly at that, her eyes flickering with an indistinguishable expression. "...i always wanted to travel. around the world, to see mountains and landscapes."

"then i'll take you."

"you don't have t--"

"i do. and ill do more [name], what i did to you was-- is horrible. you know that."

"i..

okay, okay bakugo."

"katsuki."

you smiled, "katsuki."

going from having very limited contact with your only friend from high school, to having a prohero come to your shop everyday was jarring. but not unwelcomed.

he brought gifts with him everytime, learning what you'd like and not. it ranged from food to stuffed animals, flowers to accessories, all of which you really appreciated.

you grew closer, eventually starting to meet outside of your mother's shop. at the park or walking around the mall, he'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. he'd pay for everything too, despite your reluctance.

he kept his word to you, and at the end of the month he asked you to come up to his apartment.

a penthouse.

as you walked in, greeted by the shimmering atmosphere of the expensive furniture and decor all around, abstract paintings and trophies littering shelves on the walls.

you stood by the front entrance, taking off your shoes as you walked in. "katsuki?" you asked, looking around.

he came out, a tiny smile on his face. "ya made it." he had something behind his back, "come in [name]."

the apartment was huge to say the least, it becoming even bigger than it looked from the entrance. he guided you to his plush couch, sitting next to you.

"so, i know you said you dreamt of traveling, right?"

at your nod, he pulled out the tickets from behind his back. "i.. got this tickets for you. i didn't want to push it in case you didn't want me to go with you but--"

you cut him off with a hug, tackling him into the couch.

"of course i want you to come,

katsuki."

you signed his name differently than other times,

you'd finally made a name for him.

he hugged back mindfully, so excited to finally have a huge first step in the right direction.

but he still needed to make you happy. "we'll leave in two days if that's okay, i just wanted to give you time to pack."

"okay, that's good."

"do you.. want to stay?" he asked nervously, the thought had popped into his mind and out his mouth in a millisecond.

you blinked, sitting up on his legs, pondering it over.

"sure, okay."

he put on some movies for the two of you, his heart was racing at the proximity of your body to his.

the night ended with you laid on top of him, fast asleep as he was comforted by the beating of your heart against his. your chest against his, his hand in your hair as your head laid in his neck.

he woke up first, to the sight of the gold light making you look heavenly, your hair messy from how he was playing with it throughout the night. your face was almost against his, he could kiss you right now.

but he shouldn't. he would move but he didn't want to couldn't, so he looked you over. you woke up to the feeling of his fingers caressing your face, your eyes half lidded from sleep.

"'suki. g'morning."

his heart was getting used to irregularly pounding around you at this point. "[name], uh-- hi."

after a couple moments, you got off of him, much to his discontent. his hands sliding down your legs as you got up.

"i'll be going now, i gotta pack and stuff." you said, looking in one of the many mirrors scattered around as you fixed your appearance as much as you could.

he nodded. "let me walk you home at least."

and he did walk you home, hand in hand.

those two nights he spent pondering over you. he didn't know why, but hero work felt much lighter after talking it out with you. becoming your friend was one of the best things he'd achieved in years, and that was including his recent rankings.

he thought back to how he treated you as a kid, had he really just been searching for your validation all along?

is that why it hurt when you told him he'd never amount to his dreams, because he only valued your opinion?

he let himself sleep, he'd see you tomorrow. and he'd make it all right.

he woke up and picked you up at your place, his expensive sports car standing out against the comfort of the neighborhood. you walked out, dressed simply but cute, a bag of your own in hand.

he grabbed it from you and placed it in the back, opening the passenger door for you as he drove to the airport. his hand on your thigh as he did so, letting you play the music you'd like with loud bass.

it was a half hour ride in comfortable silence, he gazed at you occasionally, a thoughtful expression on your face.

on the plane, you sat by the window. it was first class so you'd get to sleep in a physical bed, in a closed room. you were treated to whatever food and drinks you wanted, hugging katsuki when you found out you where you were heading.

the flight was a long eighteen hours, but it was spent hanging out with katsuki. on his lap asking him questions about the shows you two had watched, power scaling arguments about past heroes, fights he'd recently been in.

also what you two planned to do as you were there, you wanted to go to the beaches and mountains, he just wanted to follow you.

you fell asleep together again, your face laid directly in his chest as he held you.

you woke up to katsuki tapping you on the shoulder. as you raised the volume on your aids, you heard the beeping on the intercoms that meant you'd have to go back to your seats for the landing, groggily being helped up by katsuki as he moved you to to your seats.

you sat by the windows, looking at the tropical region as you two landed, your hand still in his. the moments after we're a blur, before you knew it you were in a car being buckled up by katsuki as you were being driven to your hotel.

what you didn't know was that it was a villa, built on top of the waters of the ocean, your very own private beach right outside your doors with the mountains you'd dreamt of treking right behind you.

you'd never been so happy.

the days you'd spent started and ended all the same, you waking up and going to sleep in katsuki's arms. pretending like you didn't notice how your bed hair got worsened after he played with it all night.

the first days you'd spent at the beach, attempting and failing at surfing. your jet lag was killed off by your utter excitement.

you being thankful your aids were water resistant because of how much you loved the waters of the river and the seas.

you'd had a sandcastle competition, sunbathed, and soaked off in the hot tub of your villa together.

the trek's were fun too, katsuki was annoyingly good at everything so you'd have to fight to keep up.

your polaroid in hand as you snapped candid shots of him, turning it to yourself as you got a selfie of you two with the gorgeous rivers as background.

you jumped into those too, making katsuki freak out as you dived in to the deep waters.

you even got to the top one day, jokingly saying that you should've brought a flag to the top to celebrate. the golden hours of the sunset making you glimmer.

a moment of silence passed over you as he slowly approached you, wordlessly asking for permission as you once again put your hands in his.

you leaned in first, kissing him with the sun as witness.

"i really like you [name]." he sighed and spoke after you pulled away.

"i like you too." you replied, hugging him tightly.

the rest of your trip was filled with your firsts with katsuki.

your first official date was in the burrows of the forest, a picnic where you two painted portraits of eachother. albeit, unique portraits... but painting nonetheless.

your first moment truly loving someone, the feeling you recognized as you laid him in your lap for the first time.

your first talk about what happened all those years ago. a deep one.

"[name], before we become something um.. official. we need to talk about how i hurt you." katsuki said one day, laying faced to you but taking your hands into his.

"kats--"

"let me speak. please." after you nodded, he took a breath and began.

"i was egotistical and really insecure all those years. you were the only one who really read me, that's why i think i got so upset.

i didn't mean to hurt you, i never wanted to hurt anyone i swear-- i just hated that you were right.

that weighed over me all these years, the fact that my hero work meant nothing if i was doing it while acting so.. unheroic.

i never fully felt like a hero, not until i met you again.

not until you graced me with your friendship, your undeserved affection towards me. i just-- i really care about you. and im really sorry, ill spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, and you don't have to accept it because i don't deserve it.

i guess what i'm trying to say is..

sorry, and.. i love you [name].

you don't have to--"

he was cut off by a kiss on his lips.

it felt different somehow, he couldn't place it. almost sad in a way as you pulled back.

"i don't think you were trying to hurt me. but, you did.

and you're working to change it, i appreciate that.

i really care for you too katsuki."

the rest of your trip was comfortingly domestic, learning things about each other you'd never know.

your last week was bittersweet, having to leave your jointed paradise was a reality that saddened the both of you. but your dream was fulfilled, and so was his.

seeing that he was the cause of your smiles and not your horror, making you happy was the light of his day. no, his life.

he thinks he was born to make you happy.

the flight back was a blur, you spent it clinging to him. you started to gift him your own things over the hours, a scrunchie of yours, a bracelet for him to keep.

a locket with a photo of you two, and the polaroid you'd taken on the mountains.

"why are you giving this all to me? not that i'm complaining."

"well, you'll get more use out of it. that's all."

he scrunched his face up in confusion, but with a smile you waved off his concerns.

he wished he pushed you more.

he wished that you'd forgive him for failing you once again, as he fought to take the razor blade out of your grip, slicing your hand in the process.

you were in your bathtub, surrounded by water yet fully clothed, tears and wails wracking your body as you just wanted it to be over.

you finally relented, your blood staining his clothes and the water as he picked you up. you couldn't hear him, you'd taken out your aid.

but you could feel his sobs, his tears hitting you as you shut your eyes, embarrassed of what you'd just done.

you were rushed to the hospital and given stitches, you were to be closely watched from your mom now on, you were told by an interpreter.

katsuki's eyes were red, matching his pupils as he looked at you.

he was frustrated, you could see it in the trembling of his fists and the scowl in his mouth. if he hadn't been there.. you would be dead.

why, he asked you. and to be honest, you really couldn't explain it yourself.

when you got home to your apartment, empty and reminding of your reality away from katsuki, you just felt so..

scared. what would happen when he finally got the validation he needed and left you? your whole life was quiet and tranquil, you'd gotten used to it. but he flipped it upside down again, showed you what your life really could be.

it was too much for you. you had to escape, so after sitting on it, tapping your leg anxiously as you pondered your decision, you went on your phone.

you went online and saw his life outside of you, how he had everything going for him yet what did you really have? a mom and a job at her company?

you grew impulsive, grabbing it absentmindedly and filling up the tub with the water you grown to love over the past month.

after you started bleeding, you panicked. what had you just done? but it was too late..

until he saved you from yourself.

you were zoning out. when you didn't answer him, he repeated himself, grabbing the interpreter so you could sign.

but still you said nothing, except a small sorry.

he left afterwards, leaving you alone in the bed to think.

you were back in your childhood room now, your mom having sobbed as she looked over your hands, as she asked you, "what the hell were you thinking?"

you looked at those glow in the dark stars and tried to find an answer, but there was none.

you held yourself to sleep for the first time in months, already missing him deeply.

little did you know, he was thinking about you too.

the next morning you awoke to a knock on your bedroom door. assuming it was your mom, you got up and opened it.

it was katsuki instead, holding a bouquet of flowers and the locket you'd given him.

"can i come in?"

you opened the door wider, leading him to sit on your bed.

"katsuki i--"

"[name]. i don't know why you did what you did.. but i know it probably has something to do with me. so what did i do wrong?" he looked defeated, as if he thought it was his fault you tried to end your life.

"no! no that wasn't it at all. well, it was about you but not like that.

it's just.. i've been alone. for so long? having you around felt.. too good to be true. i didn't want to go back to how i was before. in a way, you were too good for me."

"you're.. an idiot. but i guess i understand."

"i just.. i really love how you treat me. i didn't want it to go away."

a moment of silence passes, a small anxious laugh leaving katsuki's lips.

"fuck, i thought you hated me. could barely sleep without you."

he pulled you into him, staring deeply into your eyes as he pulled you impossibly closer. he kissed you deeply. his worries, passions, and frustrations all poured out into it.

he pulled away, eyes half lidded as he asked gruffly.

"wanna take this back to my place?"

he took your last first away, gentle and loving as he guided you through it. reassuring you that he'd never leave you.

you moved in with him soon after, finding it hard to sleep without eachother, no matter how late he got back to your shared home.

he'd be welcomed back by the sight of you, who always tried and failed to stay up waiting for him. he'd pick you up, like always, and hug you to sleep.

he'd know he woke you up by the feeling of your smile in his chest, the way you tightened you arms around him.

he loved spending every waking moment he could with you. you were right though, he did break up with you after he got your validation.

...

but that's just an odd way to say he proposed to you, vowing to spend the rest of his life making you happy and fufiling your wishes one by one.

he changed not only himself, but the way you see yourself. he changed your relationships with yourselves and eachother for the better,

and as you walked down the aisle, your wedding planned by your two designer parents, being lavish and gorgeous. the silk on the floor being runway to your expensive shoes specially designed for you, the guests in awe of how gorgeous you are.

you both knew, you'd better eachother for better or for worse, for as long as you'd be together.

he signed 'i do', sealing the rest of your lives together,

with a kiss.

[daxisyzz]

About Damn Time

Pairings: Bucky Barnes × Reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you’re captured by Hydra, who use you as bait to lure Bucky out. He and Sam come to your rescue, but the night’s events leave emotions raw. In the aftermath, Bucky finally confesses his love, and you realize you were never alone.

Word count: 1.2k+

Warnings and tags: Reader gets captured, mentions of fighting, mentions of getting beaten, Bucky to the rescue, protective Bucky, a small mention of reader feeling like she should've tried harder, Sam Wilson interaction, love confessions in the quinjet.

A/n: just clearing out my drafts.. give me some ideas for more fics in my request box!!

Requests are open!!!

A mission gone wrong.

That was the only way to describe the mess you found yourself in. You had been sent on a solo recon assignment—get in, gather intel, and get out before Hydra even knew you were there. It was supposed to be simple. A quiet operation. But Hydra had been waiting for you.

You fought hard, taking down as many operatives as you could, but the odds weren’t in your favor. The moment one of them slammed a rifle into your ribs, knocking the wind from your lungs, you knew you were in trouble. You tried to reach for your weapon, but another soldier wrenched it from your grasp. A pair of hands grabbed you roughly, twisting your arms behind your back as a sharp, cold blade pressed against your throat.

Now, you were in a dimly lit warehouse, your body aching, your wrists bound behind you with thick zip ties. The Hydra operative holding you hostage had an iron grip on your shoulder, his knife still pressed against your skin. You struggled, but you had nothing left—your body had been battered, your energy drained.

“You shouldn’t have come alone,” the man sneered.

“But I suppose it worked in our favor. You’re important to him, aren’t you?”

Your blood ran cold. You knew exactly who he was talking about.

“We don’t want you,” the Hydra agent continued, his voice dripping with amusement. “We want our Soldat back.”

Your stomach twisted. They hadn’t taken you for information. They had taken you to lure Bucky out. And then the door burst open.

Bucky and Sam stormed in like a hurricane, weapons raised, eyes scanning the room. Relief flooded you, but it was quickly overshadowed by dread. You could feel the Hydra agent’s grip tighten as he pulled you closer against him, using you as a human shield.

“Well, well,” the man chuckled. “Speak of the devil.”

Bucky’s eyes locked onto yours, a storm brewing in those icy blues. His jaw was clenched so tightly you thought it might snap. Sam, beside him, held his gun steady, gaze flickering between you and the man holding you captive.

Bucky took a step forward, his voice low, dangerous. “You want me? Take me. Just me.”

Your heart stopped. “Bucky, no—”

The Hydra agent chuckled, the blade at your throat pressing just a little harder. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Sam’s voice was sharp. “Let her go.”

Bucky didn’t blink. “I won’t ask again.” And then he lunged.

Bucky moved like a shadow—silent, fast, and lethal. The Hydra agent barely had time to react before Bucky’s vibranium arm clamped down on his wrist, yanking the knife away from your throat. The world tilted as the man was ripped away from you. You stumbled, your legs weak from exhaustion, but strong hands caught you before you could hit the ground. Sam.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, steadying you and freeing you of the zipties before turning his attention back to the fight.

Bucky was a force of nature. His fists struck like thunder, each blow precise and devastating. The Hydra agent tried to fight back, but he was outmatched. With a swift kick to the ribs and a brutal punch to the jaw, the man crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain. But the fight wasn’t over. More footsteps echoed through the warehouse—reinforcements.

Sam shoved you behind a stack of crates, pressing a gun into your hands. “Stay down,” he ordered. “We’ve got this.”

You wanted to argue, but you were in no shape to fight. Your hands trembled as you gripped the weapon, frustration burning in your chest. You weren’t used to being the one who needed saving.

Bucky and Sam moved in sync, taking down each operative that stormed through the doors. Gunfire erupted, bullets ricocheting off metal beams. Bucky used his arm as a shield, taking down enemies with brutal efficiency. Sam soared into the air, using his wings to propel himself forward as he fired precise shots. It was over in minutes.

Bodies lay sprawled across the warehouse floor, groaning or unconscious. The silence that followed was deafening. Bucky turned to you immediately, his eyes raking over you, searching for injuries.

“You okay?” His voice was softer now, the fury from the fight replaced with something else—something warmer.

You nodded, but your body betrayed you. Your knees buckled, and Bucky was there in an instant, catching you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. You clenched your jaw, trying to keep the emotion at bay.

“I—I should have been able to fight back,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I was careless.”

Bucky shook his head, his grip tightening. “Hey. None of that,” he said firmly. “They ambushed you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Sam clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Besides, we wouldn’t let anything happen to you. We’ve got your back, always.”

You exhaled shakily, the weight of the night pressing down on you. Bucky’s hand found yours, his fingers curling around yours in a quiet promise.

The quinjet hummed softly as you sat on one of the seats, exhaustion sinking into your bones. Sam stood up, glancing at the two of you before shaking his head.

“I’m gonna give you two a minute,” he said, his voice knowing. “Try not to make me regret it.” With that, he disappeared toward the cockpit, leaving you alone with Bucky.

The silence between you was thick. Heavy. You turned to him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands were still clenched into fists.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “I should be asking you that.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine, Bucky. I promise.”

His jaw tightened. “No, you’re not,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “They took you. They could’ve—” He cut himself off, his fists clenching again.

You reached out, gently placing your hands over his. “But I’m here,” you whispered. “Because of you.”

His gaze lifted, meeting yours, and the sheer emotion in his eyes made your breath hitch. “I almost lost you tonight,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly.

“I—” He hesitated, shaking his head as if he couldn’t find the words. “I can’t go through that again.”

Your fingers curled around his. “Bucky…”

“I need you to know something,” he said, his grip tightening. “I—damn it—I love you.”

Your breath caught. The weight of the confession settled between you, heavy and unshakable.

You searched his face, seeing nothing but sincerity, nothing but raw, unguarded truth. And suddenly, it all made sense. The way he always watched your back, the way his hands lingered when he touched you, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you.

You exhaled shakily. “I love you too.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged with relief. His hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek like he was memorizing the feeling of you beneath his touch.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in. The kiss was gentle at first—soft, tentative, as if he was afraid you might disappear. But the moment you pressed closer, it deepened. His hands cradled your face, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own.

You melted into him, into the warmth of his touch, into the quiet promise between you. When you finally pulled away, breathless, foreheads touching, Bucky let out a soft chuckle.

“Sam’s gonna say ‘finally,’ isn’t he?” you murmured.

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Yeah. He is.” And sure enough, from the cockpit, Sam’s voice echoed through the jet.

“Bout damn time.”

Despite everything—the pain, the exhaustion—you laughed. And for the first time that night, the weight on your chest felt just a little bit lighter.

You weren’t alone.

You never would be.

[won4youu]

Kiss Cam.

pairing: bsf!jake x downbad!reader

genres: fluff, suggestive?, idiots to lovers(sorta)

wc: 5.7k

warning: well there's a kiss cam involved so they kiss 🤭, use of cuss words, also idk anything about American football so I'm sorry if there's anything wrong about it lolol

a/n: this has been collecting dust in our drafts for wayyy too long lol soooo if you like it please reblog and consider following!

written by both @raven-naaaaa and @theaspen

You know that feeling when you look at your best friend and your heart skips a beat, and their smile makes you smile and the entire world seems to fade into the background and it feels like it's just you and him in the room?

Yeah, apparently not everyone felt that way about their best friend. But..you did.

Jake Sim made you so goddamn happy.

Whenever his eyes searched for yours in every crowded room, and the instant smile that accompanied his starry eyes when he recognized your face, your heart did a little tap dance.Either you were projecting your thoughts onto him or just maybe, he liked you too.

But here's the thing, you don't think “like” would do justice to the feelings you harboured for the boy, and using the big L word made your insides cringe.

You've never been in love before. Crushes? Sure, you've had those. But these huge feelings? Those selfish instincts that came over whenever his smile was shared with everyone else as well? Was that normal? You didn't want to know.

"Hi __," his voice is warm and familiar. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you into one of those hugs you've come to love.

"Hi Jake,” You greet him back. Internally scoffing at yourself. Because practically anyone could hear the giddy smile that accompanied your voice.

Jake pulls you even closer, if that was even possible. Smiling into your shoulder as well. It's been a few seconds, but his hands still linger on your waist and when he pulls back you can still feel his touch.

Jake's touch is gone, but your heart still feels that stupid annoying rush. You ignore it completely, because honestly? The intensity of your feelings scare you, and the way Jake throws you the yearning glances scare you even more. In fear that you're probably just being delusional all by yourself.

"You look good," he tells you as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You don't try to fight his touch. If anything you lean into it.

Jake seems to have noticed that- his thumb traces some invisible shape on your cheek, eyes so full of adoration.

"Thank you," you reply bashfully. Somehow you could never be nonchalant and cool to him like you are with others. And it pisses you off.

"Come on, let's get to our seats," he says, holding your hand and dragging you through the semi crowd and toward the seating area.

Coming to a football game would definitely not be your first choice, but here you were, with Jake because Heeseung “dropped out” at the last minute and he needed some company.

Okay, here's the deal. You didn't know much about football, but you just came along because well, you're a fool in love.

You didn't mind it honestly, because if watching some dude run around the field with a ball made Jake happy, you'd sit through it for however many times he wanted.

So there you were sitting mindlessly nipping at your sandwich.

“___, the first quarter is done,” Jake grins as he sits down beside you.

“How many more of these do I have to sit through Sim,” you fake whine as Jake laughs beside you.

“You do realise you didn't have to come along with me right?” He chuckles, throwing an arm across your shoulder.

“And leave you here all by yourself to look like a loser with no friends?” You scoff, giving him a smug look, “I'm practically saving your reputation here Sim. A thanks and a lifetime supply of chocolate muffins would do.”

Jake simply rolls his eyes at your faux uppity look.

You shift in your chair as you look around the field, “What do people even do in these breaks?” you ask.

Jake points towards the huge screen that was displaying the results a minute ago.

“See that,” you hum mindlessly, “that is a kiss cam. So during the breaks, people usually just look at other people snogging each other.” You snort at his words and look at the screen. As if on cue, the camera points towards a young couple. The couple share a flustered look before pecking each other and the entire stadium erupts into cheers, and you couldn't help the smile on your face.

“That's so cute…but also lowkey weird, what if it points towards siblings? Or like friends? Wouldn't that put them in an awkward position?” Your question is genuine, but Jake only hangs on to one thing you said.

“Friends?”, he parrots, as his cheeks flush pink, “like us..?” His voice is low, but you catch onto it. Your face heats up at the thought of kissing him. You lock eyes with the boy. There was something so magnetic about his eyes.

You let out an awkward chuckle, “I mean, we don't have to worry about that, no?” You force out a laugh, fiddling with your fingers. “It's not like the camera is gonna point at us.”

“___,” Jake whispers, “you might want to look at the screen.”

Well, fuck.

The camera was pointing towards a very familiar young couple, well at least they looked like a couple on screen. You swore to God your heart was going to jump out of your rib cage. You turn away from Jake, avoiding the camera and Jake laughs awkwardly, crossing his arms to sign ‘no’, which had the audience booing at the two of you.

Thankfully, the camera quickly pans towards another couple, who seem more than happy to kiss each other.

Jake breathes a sigh of relief which you don't miss. Your chest heaves a tiny tiny little bit in disappointment.

Luck definitely wasn't on your side today because soon after, the camera panned towards you and Jake. Again.

Jake laughs as he signs ‘no’, earning more boos from the crowd. You looked up at the screen and noticed that the camera was still on the two of you.

You don't really know what got into you, maybe it was the consistent booing by the crowd that finally tipped you over, because one second you were looking at Jake on the screen and the other your hands were on his face as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Sim, I'm going to kiss you,” you rush as you pull him towards you, “If you don't want this tell me now.” He doesn't really remember much of what he said. All Jake remembers is the feeling of his lips on yours.

He could have sworn he heard fireworks when you pulled him closer and crashed your lips against his. Your lips were soft against his and there was a sense of longing in them. God, you drove him mad.

He lets out a groan as his hands find company at your waist, pressing and feeling your skin. He couldn't believe this was happening.

You couldn't believe it either. The moment his lips were on yours, it felt like it was just the two of you in the stadium, but unfortunately, the loud cheers of the audience brought you back to your senses as you heaved against his chest, him burying his head into your neck.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I've waited for that,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your back. “Yeah?” You look up at him with a flustered smile.

“Yeah.” He says, gulping. The rosy flush on his cheeks still present. The camera isn't pointing at you two anymore and the game has already resumed again. But the two of you can't help but continue to act like giddy idiots.

You're definitely gonna have to thank Heeseung for dipping out on Jake today.

[notlongtolove]

to be an accountant of the heart

because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. to look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst-ish, fight and makeup

content: established relationship fight and makeup woof woof rookie bau reader feels insecure about how much she loves spencer, worries she's too clingy, spencer reid best bf ever

word count: 5k

note: this was haunting me in my drafts for the longest time... please be nice my heart can't take it (psa guys don't ever tell ur partners that they love you more than you love them bc 5 years down the road they'll cope by writing deranged spencer reid fics like this)

a line: You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

and then it is hundreds of hours later, and you are still hunched over your flowcharts and abacus, trying to decide if you have gotten enough. This is the loneliest job in the world: to be an accountant of the heart. - tony hoagland

The English language draws a neat line between many and much. It divides the countable from the uncountable.

The word many is meant for things you can count. How many cups of coffee have you had? How many days will you be gone for? 

The word much belongs to what cannot be counted, what cannot be numbered. How much longer do we have in bed? How much did you miss me? How much do you love me? 

How much?

It’s an innately impossible question. Love, after all, is supposed to be infinite, unbound, unquantifiable. Any attempt to measure it—to reduce something so sacred to a number, a unit—is to taint it. And why would you want to do that? Why would anyone? There shouldn't be any need to measure something so inherently immeasurable. 

Deep down, you know there's no actual way to count love. You suppose this instinct to measure has always been there, to wonder if the love you received can be tallied like time. It’s buried deep, old as the child you once were. 

Still, the question begs itself. How much? How much more? How much less? If comparison is the thief of joy it’s only because it leaves you with the revelations nobody asked for, the truths nobody ever wants to see. 

Put love on a scale, wait and see—Will it balance or won’t it? 

“Glaring at the clock isn’t going to make time pass any faster,” Elle teases from two desks away, her eyes locked on the report she’s skimming.

You don’t bother hiding your sigh as you glance up from where your chin rests heavily in your palm, elbow propped against the desk. The pencil in your other hand twirls idly, betraying your impatience. “He said they landed an hour ago,” you grumble. Only the faintest trace of a pout slips through.

“Working hard or hardly working, ladies?” 

Your head perks up at that. Trust Derek Morgan to know how to make an entrance, arriving right on cue, grin wide and swagger intact. 

JJ, seated beside you and noticeably more amused by your restlessness than concerned, spins her chair around as she asks, “How was the convention boys?”

“It was great—more than great actually,” Spencer says, appearing from behind Morgan. He’s lugging a bag that seems twice as heavy as when you’d helped him pack it five days ago. “All the speakers were incredible. I got to talk with Lonnie Athens himself. He gave me a signed copy of his latest book.” His grin widens tenfold. “It’s not even out in stores yet.”

You’re halfway out of your seat, ready to pounce on Spencer the moment he sets his bag down. But instead, he offers a halfhug and a light squeeze to your shoulder. It’s understated, but it’s Spencer. Public displays of affection aren’t his thing, and you know better than to expect more. Still, five days without him makes you ache for just a little more.

“It was alright,” Morgan interjects with a casual shrug as he takes a seat at the edge of your table, narrowly missing your nth mug of coffee. “Great sandwiches though.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed interested in the sandwiches,” Spencer says dryly, the kind of tone that suggests sandwiches were not the main attraction.

Morgan smirks, unbothered. “New York, man,” he says with a grin. “New York.”

You turn your attention back to Spencer. “How’d you sleep?” you ask, your question aimed entirely at him.

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Spencer replies, “Despite the snoring.”

Morgan’s response is immediate—a light thwack to the back of Spencer’s head. “How’d he sleep? More like, how’d I sleep. Lover girl over here had him on the phone half the night.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him. But then your gaze drifts to Spencer, searching for confirmation. “Was I?”

Spencer hesitates, his lips pressing into a faintly sheepish line. “I did wake up late for one of the panels,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, you think you had it bad? I’ve never seen someone go through so much coffee in a week,” JJ says, nodding in your direction, “She wiped out the entire stock.”

“Almost bashed her over the head with a cup of coffee myself when I had to settle for the instant stuff,” Elle chimes in. A collective shudder goes through the group. “No offence, Reid,” she adds.

“None taken,” Spencer replies smoothly, just in time to earn another smack on his arm, this time from you.

You’ve endured more than your fair share of teasing—it comes with the territory when you’re part of a team like this. You, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, three years his junior. Him, more comfortable rambling about the number of kernels on an average cob of corn than talking to any girl, let alone one with a smile like yours that could make his knees buckle. What had been an odd match to some, made perfect sense to others—Though Spencer would argue that Garcia just liked seeing him with any girl who could make him laugh the way you could, especially within three days of meeting him. It’s a feat nobody else has yet to achieve in the year you’ve been on the team. 

“Missed you,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

Spencer flushes as his lips part, maybe to respond, but Elle cuts in before he gets the chance. “Save it for later, lover girl. Some of us want to hear about those sandwiches.” 

“Oh, they really were better than last year’s,” Spencer begins, now distracted, completely oblivious to Elle’s sarcasm, “Probably because the annual reports showed an increased budget for the global initiatives.”

JJ raises an eyebrow in amused disbelief. “You read the FBI’s annual budget breakdown?”

Spencer looks genuinely surprised by the question. “You don’t?”

Chuckles echo throughout the group and though you smile faintly, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You just can’t help it as the tally marks start to stack up in your mind. One for the way his attention is just a little too distant, his excitement seemingly aimed at everyone but you. Another for every time you wait for his gaze and it doesn’t come. He’s too absorbed in recounting a discussion about deterministic causality he’d had with a keynote speaker. 

Compared to Spencer, who was often so reserved, it was easy to feel like your emotions were too big, too eager. Dragging him, wide-eyed and stammering, up the stairs to Hotch’s office six months ago had been nothing short of a test of strength and sheer determination. You’d been the one to silence him with a gentle kiss to his knuckles, promising him that everything would be okay. You were a live wire compared to him, everyone knew that. Lover girl, they teased, though never cruelly. In the field and out of it—Clingy to a fault, always wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

Lover girl through and through, you wait patiently for Spencer to look your way. 

He doesn’t. 

“Yours or mine?” Spencer asks as you stand side by side on the curb, bags in tow. 

“Think I’ll go to mine,” you reply curtly. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else right now.

“That’s fine. I’ve got an extra day’s worth of clothes with me.”

“You can go home,” you say, cutting him off. It comes off sharper than you intended. Then, softer, as if trying to backtrack, you add, “If you want.”

He looks at you, baffled. “Why would I do that?” 

It’s not a rhetorical question, he genuinely doesn’t understand. Weekends apart have never really been your thing. 

“Because—” You cut yourself off mid-sentence. What could you even say? Because you seem so perfectly fine after 120 hours apart. Because the tally marks said so. Because the scale said so. Instead, you huff an exhale and settle for, “No reason. You look tired. Thought you’d want to go home or something.”

“Again sweetheart. Why would I do that?” he repeats, incredulous. 

You fight off a resigned sigh, though you’re sure he catches it, and pull out your phone. “I’m calling a cab,” you mumble, thumbing at the screen. “Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” he says, still calm but clearly confused.

“Fine.”

The ride home is quiet, save for the driver’s rambling complaints about freeway traffic at this hour. Normally, you’d be the one to humour any conversations with strangers, chiming in with polite nods and oh, reallys while Spencer watched, bemused by your ability to make small talk with anyone. But today, you’re just not in the mood, leaving poor Spencer to fend for himself.  

Which to his credit, he does—By turning the conversation into a tangent about how traffic patterns correlate with certain hours and commuter behaviour, and delving into a detailed explanation of the queueing theory. He does this till eventually, even the driver goes silent, though whether it’s out of confusion or exhaustion, you’re not quite sure. 

You can feel Spencer’s eyes on you in the silence, flicking toward you every now and then. The concern in his attention does nothing to soothe you. If anything, it only fans the flames of your irritation. When the car finally rolls to a stop outside your building, you hand the driver a $20 bill, wave off the change, and stride toward your door without another word. You’re out before Spencer can even pull his door open.

Inside, you drop your things on the couch resignedly and kick off your shoes without so much as a care. They land in a scattered heap that you don’t bother to fix. Spencer lingers behind you, ever patient.

“What do you want for dinner?” His voice is soft, tentative, as he bends down to pick up your discarded shoes, lining them neatly by the door. “We could order something. Chinese, maybe?”

Spencer knows you well—knows how your mood sours when you’re running on fumes. Particularly on days like this, when your only sustenance has been cups of crappy coffee and a few stale crackers he’d coaxed you into eating earlier just before you left, bribing you with a quick kiss on the cheek—After checking that nobody else was in the break room, of course. 

Sullen as you are, you can recognise the offer for what it is. It’s sweet. A thoughtful acknowledgement of how well he knows you, how much he cares. He’s offering you a lifeline, a quiet invitation to let the storm pass without forcing you to name it, something you’re evidently trying not to do. 

But tonight, it feels almost patronising. It’s a spotlight on the hurt you can’t quite temper, like he’s trying to fix something you’re not yet ready to admit needs fixing.

“I can run down to the—”

“I’m not hungry.” 

You walk straight into your bedroom without another word, leaving him standing there in the doorway. You hear him exhale quietly, not quite a sigh but close. Probably one of resignation. Another tally mark falls on the scale. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts. You know he’s testing the waters, trying to find an opening. But you don’t look at him, don’t give him anything to work with. “Can we talk?” he asks, his fingers brushing yours as he takes a seat at the edge of your bed.

“Talk about what?” You’ve always been good at feigning ignorance, but the way you pull your hand away from his is anything but subtle. Spencer sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes briefly. He’s clearly exhausted. This is exhausting. You’re clearly exhausting. You can’t help but wonder why you always do this. 

“Was it Elle? Morgan?” he ventures cautiously. “The teasing?”

“They always tease me,” you say with a shrug, your voice dismissive. “I don’t care.”

It’s a half-truth, and you both know it.

Spencer nods slowly as he tries to piece this together. He knows you’re not usually one to let things fester. You’re never angry for long, and even when you are, you laugh it off, always quick to join in on the joke. He knows better than to profile you—it's an unspoken rule within the team and, more importantly, within your relationship. But Spencer’s anything if not desperate to understand.

He watches you slip into the bathroom with a sigh, shoulders dipping. The light flickers on, but you don’t meet your own gaze in the mirror. You’re not angry. That would be easier. There’s something quieter in your eyes. Defeat, maybe. 

“I missed you,” he offers, stepping into the doorway. His tone is softer now, pleading.

“Did you?” It’s almost sarcastic, but not quite. Irritable but undercut by something raw, as though you don’t really believe he did.

Spencer swallows. “You don’t think I missed you?”

“A little hard to tell between the fawning over Lonnie Athens,” you say, wiping mascara from under your lashes. “Or was it the in-depth analysis of sandwich platters?”

It’s a snap, all sharp edges and fire, and for a second, he forgets the minefield he’s meant to be tiptoeing through. Has to bite back a smile. You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

“Is that what this is about?” The words slip out before he can stop them, and the second they do, he knows. Rookie mistake. Your spine straightens, your jaw sets, and he wants to take it back, rewind, try again.

“This,” you echo, turning to face him. “What exactly do you mean by this?”

Spencer reminds himself that fire is never snuffed out with ice. You douse a flame gently, carefully. So, he steps forward, quieter now, fingers grazing yours before he takes your hand in his, guiding you toward the bed. He doesn’t pull, doesn’t rush, just leads you toward the bed with the same patience he knows you need when you’re fragile and burning.

Regardless, you try to resist, to hold yourself upright. You’re fighting the urge to sink into it—His touch, the bed, all of it. 

“Sweetheart,” Spencer murmurs, taking a seat beside you. “I know you’re not angry. You’re sad. And I’d really like to know why. Tell me, please?”

Deep inside, you know you’re just clinging on to the last embers of your frustration. But it’s hard—impossible, really, when you’re a fire with no kindle left to burn, and Spencer is all soft whispers and gentle hands, featherlight and soothing. 

You hesitate, twisting the fabric of the duvet between your fingers. “I just—I—You were being mean.”

Spencer lets out a slow, quiet breath. Relief, almost. Not because he agrees—He knows himself well enough to be sure that ‘mean’ isn’t the right word. But he knows you well enough to understand what it means when you say it.

Mean is what you say when you’ve been hurt and don’t know how else to put it. 

So he follows your lead. Doesn’t fight it.

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles stroking your hand with his thumb. His touch is warm as it is gentle. 

Because it’s not about whether he was mean or not. Spencer knows that. Knows you. Knows that kindness has never been a given for you, knows that you wouldn’t recognise patience if it came knocking. And he knows you well enough to know that you think in some twisted way, that you’ve brought this hurt upon yourself, that you deserve it. 

What matters is that you were hurt. And that’s the one thing he never, ever wants to do.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Can you tell me how I did?”

“You just kept going on and on about the stupid conference. You didn’t even hug me or—And then you—” 

You don’t continue. You can’t. You feel ridiculous. Stupid, even. Mopey and small over something that shouldn’t matter this much. Over the realisation that he doesn’t need you. And why should he? It’s not Spencer’s fault. Not at all. 

His indifference is what it is and what it was. Indifference. It sits like a weight on your bones—Cold, sharp-edged, piercing. He can go 5 days without you. You can’t. The tally marks accumulate, unbidden.

“And then I…?” Spencer prompts gently, prying your fingers from the duvet and replacing the tension with his thumb, tracing slow, soothing circles into your palm instead.

“You ignored me, and I just—” Your voice wavers, frustration bubbling over. "I just felt so—so ignored!"

Wonderful vocabulary. Of course, your words would fail you now.

“And the teasing—I know, I know, I can be impossible sometimes, but I just—I just really missed you! And I get it okay? I’m clingy and you’re not and god forbid anybody else is but it’s because I love you!” You inhale sharply, your hands slipping from his to curl into fists in your lap. “And you didn’t react at all, you didn’t even care! You made me feel like—I thought that you—” 

You cut yourself off before the flurry of tears take over and drown you out. 

Spencer waits a beat, choosing his next words carefully. 

“You thought… that I don’t love you?” His voice isn’t laced with sarcasm, nor does it carry incredulity. It’s a genuine question, as though he’s retracing the moments between you, trying to understand how you could possibly come to such a conclusion.

“No, it’s not that—” you’re quick to say, desperate to correct him. You know Spencer loves you. Of course, you know that. How could you not? It’s Spencer. He loves you like it’s his life mission to show you just how much he loves you. “I know you love—I know that. I just—” 

You bury your face in your hands, fingers pressing into the hollows beneath your eyes—A feeble attempt at hiding.

Because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. To look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

To want to shout: Love me. Please love me, and please feel it with every fibre of your being as I do with mine. The kind of love that makes you want to scream from rooftops, to etch it into the sky, to burn the world down just to prove its enormity. 

Because then the question comes: Which would be worse?

To shout into the vast, open air and hear nothing in response? No echo of the same intensity. Or to stand amidst the smouldering ashes only to look into their eyes and find they don’t recognise you anymore? To see confusion or pity where love used to live.

You blink your watery eyes open, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you settle on the knobs of your knees, tracing their shape with your gaze. 

Anything but Spencer. Not right now. 

You take a sharp breath, steadying yourself before continuing.

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t need me as much as I need you and that scares me. And I know it’s stupid, even I feel stupid thinking about it. I don’t even want to be codependent or whatever but I—I just can’t help but think that sometimes—” 

Your breath shudders out of you, long and uneven, “I love you more than you love me.”

To say Spencer feels his heart break would be an understatement. It’s not a clean break, not a single, shattering moment—it’s a slow, relentless unraveling. It’s a gut punch, pain and duress packed tight, failure laced in every syllable. His heart shatters, splintering into pieces so sharp they lodge in his throat, in his lungs, in every part of him that has ever loved you. 

Silently, he’s always known the teasing would hit a breaking point. You’ve worn that insecurity for as long as he’s known you—too young, too green, too desperate to prove yourself. He just didn’t think it would carve its way between you the two of you like this. He’s watched you lean into it, let the jokes land, let them chip away at you. Newbie. Rookie. Lover girl. As if laughing along might soften the edges of it all. 

You flop onto your back on the bed, boneless, the confession stealing the last of your fight. There’s a splotch of blue paint on the ceiling from last month, when you both tried to repaint the room and got distracted halfway through. It doesn’t make you smile, not even  a little.

“That’s not true.” The mattress dips under Spencer’s weight as he settles beside you, thumb tracing your hairline. His arm moves, coaxing you to toward him, gentle in the way only he knows how to be with you.

“You’re not impossible, sweetheart, you never are. And I know they tease,” he murmurs, fingers of his other hand grazing over your knuckles, “but I also know for a fact that you don’t fall apart without me when I’m gone. That would be co-dependency. And I know that’s not you. You passed your requalifications with flying colors while I was away,” he says. “Garcia sent me the records. You know you even beat Morgan’s old score?” 

You sniffle, startled. That had been your surprise. You’d wanted to tell him yourself. 

“She told you?” 

He shakes his head. “I asked. I always ask for updates on you when I can’t be there.”

A small “Oh,” is all you can get out. 

With every other guy you dated, you’d attempted to play it cool, dialling down your enthusiasm, biting back your texts, and pretending to care less than you did. But every relationship seemed to end the same way: you were “a lot” and they weren’t equipped to handle it. It never quite stuck though, and thank god for that. 

Because then you met Spencer.

Sweet, steady Spencer, who didn’t just tolerate your spark but cherished it. Spencer, who had let you cling to his hand during every takeoff and landing on the jet the first week on the job. He never flinched, never teased—Even when everyone else casted him sympathetic looks, the kind that silently acknowledged how your grip was probably cutting off his circulation. Spencer who has kept every scrawled doodle and note you’ve ever given for him, even the ones scribbled haphazardly on napkins or receipts. He knows carbon prints fade within months so he stores them in a shoebox tucked away in his cupboard—Just so they can last that much longer. 

Spencer didn’t just accept the parts of you others found overwhelming. He singlehandedly brought them back to life. Every bit of your spark that had been dimmed or snuffed out by someone else had found new light in his presence.

Spencer’s fingers tighten around yours, a quiet kind of reassurance that draws you back to the present. 

“Being clingy is not the same as being codependent. I know you know that. There’s a clear psychological difference in brain chemistry.” His lips twitch, the smallest hint of a smile slipping through. “You’re clingy, yes. But I love that about you. I love coming home with you. I love coming home to you. I love how hard you love me, how proudly you love me. I know I haven’t been the best at reciprocating that around the team, and I’m sorry. I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t love you, or miss you.”

He shifts closer, eyes searching yours, open and earnest. “Because I did miss you. So much. I nearly blew a month’s paycheck in the gift shop. Spent half of it stocking up on those jelly crackers you told me about.” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe himself. “Morgan said I was whipped when I paid thirty bucks for a pair of souvenir socks.”

With a raise of your eyebrow you ask tearily, “and exactly how many pairs did you buy?” 

“Got you three pairs.” A sheepish little laugh escapes him as he ducks his head. 

And just like that, you’re smiling too. Albeit a small one, but that’s progress nonetheless. “And I don’t think you quite understand how much I love you when you say you love me more.” He leans in, his voice dropping, teasing. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m very competitive.”

“Oh, so I’ve heard Doctor Reid,” you quip, eyes rolling. Spencer’s lips curve, just slightly. You don’t even notice the way you press closer to him, but Spencer does. He takes the opportunity to go on.

“In a way, you’re right. I don’t need you,” Spencer says. Whiplash doesn’t even begin to describe the way your head snaps toward him. Flame and lighting, no doubt. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, his expression already twisting in regret. “I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.”

“I don’t see what other way you could possibly phrase something like that,” you snap pettily, already pushing yourself up to stand. 

“Hey, hey.” His hand reaches out, not quite grabbing yours but close enough to make you pause. “Lie back down, honey. Please.” 

Against your better judgment, you relent, sinking back into the bed. “What I meant to say was, I don’t need you,” he repeats, slower this time, deliberate.

You scoff, a bitter laugh slipping through your lips as you swipe harshly at your damp lashes. “I get it, Spencer. Clearly you don’t.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” he says, his voice unwavering. “Biologically speaking, I wouldn’t cease to exist without you. My heart would continue to beat, my lungs would continue to expand and contract, my brain would maintain its synaptic functions. I would survive.” He pauses then, eyes searching yours, “And can I tell you something?”

You don’t answer, but you don’t pull away either. He takes that as permission to go on. “You don’t need me either.” 

Your lips part, the beginnings of a protest forming, but he cuts you off gently.

“I know you said you do, but your autonomic nervous system would still regulate your breathing, your neurons would still fire, your body would persist.” He swallows, voice dipping lower. “But that’s not the point, is it? Love isn’t about biological necessity. It’s not about survival. It’s about choice.” 

The word “choice” feels almost ironic when it comes from Spencer Reid. You knew that the moment you met him. It was never really a choice, not for you. It was him, or nothing. Desperately, you'd like to think it was the same for him, too.

Your answer comes in the form of his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He’s patient, always, even when you aren’t. Kind in a way that sinks deep—Like you deserve it. You’re all sharp edges, brittle and worn, and he’s five days off a lumpy hotel mattress, yet the only thing he cares about is brushing away the tears from your skin. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t love you because I need you. I don’t think that would be love at all. That’s survival. I love you because I choose to,” he continues. “Because you are the strongest person I know. Because you are kind, even when the world hasn’t been kind to you. Because you give so much of yourself without hesitation, without ever expecting anything in return.” 

Spencer smiles, shaking his head. “Because you’re the only person I know who will spend thirty minutes on a call recounting every little thing everyone did in the office that you think I’d like to hear about—before you even think to tell me about your own day.”

“It was funny! Since when has Hotch ever tripped on the stairs?”

It’s unfair really, how easily his laugh breathes life back into you. Your heart stumbles over itself as his hand brushes tenderly along your jaw. 

“I’ve spent every day in awe of you since the moment I met you. And I fall more and more in love with you with each one. Even on the days I’m not with you. Even on the days I’m miles away. Even then.” Spencer presses his lips against the back of your hand as he adds, “Especially then.” 

“Really?”

You can’t help it, the quiet little thing in you that wants to hear it again. 

Your tears have dried, but their traces still shimmer faintly on your skin. Spencer presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’d say it again. A hundred times. He’d make that speech a thousand times over, if you needed him to. If it meant you’d never doubt it again.

“Really, my love.”

And just like that, a million tally marks fall at your feet.

A million for the way he presses another kiss to your lips, unrushed. A million more for the way his nose bumps against yours, lingering, breathing you in. Another million for the spark that creeps back into your eyes. 

It’s infinite, unbound, unquantifiable—The way he loves you, the sheer depth of it. You feel foolish for ever having questioned it. You thank your lucky stars—all of them—for Spencer Reid. For the way he’s looking at you like you strung the constellations together yourself. For the way he chooses you, again and again, even when you don’t choose him, when you shut down, when you go quiet. 

Because love to Spencer isn’t desperation, isn’t need—it’s choice. The deliberate, unwavering act of reaching out, of staying, and of saying over and over: I choose you. 

Not because he has to, but because he wants to. To be the one to put you back together again when you’re all embers and ash, to cradle you back onto earth when stare past him into the ceiling, to remind you that there’s still warmth in you left to hold.

To breathe the spark back into your eyes—It’s a choice he made the very moment he met you. It’s a spark Spencer swears he’d spend his whole life keeping alight.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: daylight by taylor swift intrapersonal by turnover

[salemrph]

Careful, kitten

Summary: Sylus is tense, quiet, and clearly off his game and you can’t help but poke at him to figure out why.

Character: Sylus & MC/You

Genre: unresolved romantic-sexual tension, pre-relationship, teasing

Word count: 3.5k | Reading Time: 14 min | AO3

A/N: Had this for a while in the draft, I needed to see Sylus flustered somehow, without getting off character. Story is base on the moment with the Lipstick and the helmet, but not the moment itself. Picture source

You crouch down, placing a small dish of food near a group of stray cats. It has almost become a ritual to go feed the cats in the park. Sylus picks you up on his bike on those days in the morning, sometimes you still notice the tiredness and the dark circles under his eyes from not having slept enough. Or not having gone to bed at all. You have told him many times that you don't have to see each other so early, that you want him to sleep a few hours at least. But the gentleman insists that he doesn't want to keep you waiting and prefers it this way. He's just as stubborn as you sometimes are. Sylus is standing behind you, sunglasses on. It's a gorgeous day this morning, it's getting warmer. You enjoy the rays of the sun that caress your skin. 

The usual trio of cats approached, the cautious steps quickly turning into eager little trots as the scents of food reached them. You smile when you see them eating.

“Not so fast… you will choke, Marshmallow”. You are very immersed in the scene of the three cats eating with fervor.

His lips parted slightly before he closed them again, exhaling through his nose. “You’ve started naming them?”

“Of course I have”. You gestured lazily at the largest of the three. A round, fluffy white cat with a soft gray patch over one ear, currently inhaling its food like it hadn’t eaten in days. “That’s Marshmallow. He eats like he’s in a competition. Every time.” 

Then pointed to the second one, a lean, all-black cat with striking green eyes, the one who always lingered just a bit further back, observing before approaching. “That one’s Phantom. He’s a little dramatic.”

You grinned in satisfaction before finally gesturing to the last one. A scrappy little tabby with a torn ear, the smallest of the three but easily the most energetic. “And that’s Bandit. Tries to steal everyone else’s food and somehow still stays tiny.”

Then, with a smirk, he said “Mephisto will get jealous of all these new friends you're making.” 

You scoffed, nudging his arm lightly. “Oh, please. Mephisto knows he’s irreplaceable. This is just my little morning gang.”

Sylus hummed, gaze flicking to the trio of cats devouring their meal. He coursed down, eyes flickering back to you. The way you sat comfortably on the pavement, fingers gently brushing against one of the cats, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, it was an oddly soft image. More cats approved, Sylus pulls out more small food out of a bag. As soon as he popped the lid, the cats perked up, their ears twitching at the familiar sound. You watch him with an amused smile. 

“It still surprises me, for someone who acts all untouchable, you sure are soft on them.” 

Sylus huff, not looking up “They’re be a nuisance if they were starving and desperate.” 

“Uh-huh” You don't say anything else. Marshmallow gets closer to him. Sylus just scratched him behind the ear, the cat leaned into this touch, purring loud enough. A small chuckle escaped you. 

“Your hands are really beautiful, you know.”

Sylus froze. His fingers stopped mid-motion, his eyes moved to you. You weren't even looking at him, when you said that. You were still watching the cats, head tilted slightly, your expression thoughtful “Long fingers, clean nails, nice veins… a bit rough. I bet people would pay just to see them in those hand model ads.” 

Sylus blinked. He flexed his fingers instinctively, as if trying to understand what you were seeing. They were just hands, functional, efficients, and dangerous. These hands had killed many times. Ended lives without hesitation or remorse. The blood that had once coated them wasn't something that could ever truly be washed away. And yet, here you are, calling them beautiful. 

He scoffed, still trying to follow you. “Don’t say weird things first thing in the morning.” 

You just hummed, Sylus exhaled sharply, looking away. He massages his eyes, slightly lifting his sunglasses. He wasn't a morning person. Never had been. And this one was especially hard. You’ve started to blurt out things like that latly, without a second thought, throwing him off in ways he wasn’t prepared. Normally, he’d have some sharp remark, a smirk, a teasing jab to keep the balance from tipping too far. But today? No chance. He hadn't slept much. With that bit of sleep he had gotten was plagued by a dream so vivid, so tangible, that waking up had felt like a cruel joke. You were tangled in his sheets. Fingers gripping his shoulder. Lips parting in breathless whispers saying his name… 

So vivid that when he woke up, the first thing he had done was grip the sheets in frustration, jaw tight, body thrumming with leftover heat that had nowhere to go. Even if he had taken the time to deal with his painful erection that very morning, it wasn't enough. Not after a dream like that. It was getting difficult.

Difficult to sit next to you without his mind wandering. Harder to keep his gaze from lingering on the curve of your neck, the way your lips parted slightly when you focused too hard. Harder to pretend like he wasn’t aching every time you said something dangerous without even realizing it. It wasn’t fair. Today, he was tired. His patience was worn too thin, his self-control stretched to its absolute limit.

“You okay? You look kind of out of it” 

“Didn’t sleep much” 

“Nightmares?” you frowned slightly.

Sylus snorted, shaking his head. “Not exactly” Far from it. If it had been nightmares, that would have been easier. This was needed. It was hunger, deep and aching, wrapped around him like a slow-burning fire that refused to go out.

“You sure? You seem…”

“I’m fine.” He cut in too quickly, voice rougher than intended.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Clearly, you aren't buying it. But you didn’t push but you didn't drop it entirely either. Instead, you turned back to the cats, scratching Phantom under the chin as the sleek black cat purred in contentment. 

His mind was still stuck on your voice, breathy and needy from his dream, whispering his name in ways you never had in reality.

“Well, whatever kept you up, it must’ve been pretty intense.” His brain was still rebooting when you smirked lightly. “Was it a mission thing? Or something else?”

You rested your chin on your hand, watching him like you were solving a puzzle. “Wait… don’t tell me you got into a fight with Mephisto again.” Sylus blinked. You nodded to yourself, looking way too serious now. “It makes sense. The broody look, the weird tension, the fact that you’re avoiding eye contact. Did you two have a jealousy spat over the cats?”

“You think this is about the cats? What's wrong with your head?” Sylus shakes his head then he runs a hand down his face, his fingers pressing against his temples. He needed this conversation to end. Immediately. “We are leaving. I need a coffee.” 

Still sitting on the pavement, you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. "Okay…? You could’ve just said that instead of having a mini crisis."

Sylus didn’t respond. He was already walking away, jaw tight, hands shoved into his pockets. 

You frowned slightly before glancing down at the cats. "What’s his deal?" Phantom, as if in solidarity, flicked his tail and turned his head away with an exaggerated huff. You chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, I don’t get him either.”

Today, he’s weirdly quiet.

He keeps rubbing his fingers over his temple like he’s trying to will away whatever is bothering him. He runs a hand through his hair too often, exhales too heavily. You tilt your head, watching him, amusement bubbling in your chest. Oh. Oh, this could be fun. Maybe if you push him a little, just a little, you’ll figure out what’s wrong. What could possibly go wrong?

The engine growls beneath you as Sylus kicks the bike into motion, but you can feel the hesitation in his movements, the slight rigidity that wasn’t there before. Sylus inhales sharply, fingers gripping the handlebars tighter.

"Hold on" he mutters, voice tight. You grin. You press yourself closer than usual on the back of his motorcycle, arms wrapped snugly around his waist. Normally, you keep a respectable grip, not too loose, not too tight. But, you let your fingers drift just a bit lower, brushing the firm muscle at his waist. You don’t miss the way his entire body tenses beneath you. Oh… Interesting. You’re sure he curses under his breath. 

By the time he pulls up to your destination, you can tell he’s barely holding himself together. The moment the bike comes to a stop, he mutters a firm “Get off.”

You blink innocently. Sylus twists around to look at you, and he’s struggling. His red eyes are dark, sharp, his jaw tight like he’s fighting something. And it’s glorious.

“Off. Now.”

You huff playfully, but slide off the bike, stretching as if nothing happened. Sylus stays seated for a moment longer, like he needs to breathe. This is too good.

At first, you thought maybe he was just tired, maybe a little irritated about something mission-related. But now? Now, you’re starting to suspect it’s something else entirely.

Because every little touch, every offhand comment, every time you press even slightly into his space, he reacts. Not in a big way, no, he’s too good at keeping himself composed for that. But you see it. The flicker in his eyes. It’s like he’s… sensitive. And then it hits you. 

Oh. Ohhh. Maybe he just… 

…hasn’t gotten fucked in a while. Sylus is an attractive man who could have anyone relieve his stress. You've read in some articles that men with so much power often forget to relax. You almost laugh at the thought. Is that what’s wrong with him? Is that why he’s all tense and restless? Well. You’re not cruel. But you are curious. Which is why you decide to push. You wait until you're sitting across from him at a café, sipping on coffee, watching him struggle to act normal. His usual confidence is still there, but it’s fragile, like it could crack at any second.

You smirk. "You know, Sylus…" you start, propping your chin in your hand, voice slow and thoughtful.

He lifts a brow, already looking suspicious. "What?"

Your smirk widens. "I read something interesting earlier."

Sylus exhales, dragging his fingers over the rim of his cup, gaze flicking to you warily. "Should I be worried?"

You shrug, swirling your drink absentmindedly. "Apparently, if someone goes too long without… a release…." you pause just long enough to see his fingers tighten slightly "...their body starts getting all restless. Irritable. Sensitive."

His eyebrow twitches. Sylus lifts his cup to his lips. You continue, your voice taking on a casual, almost curious lilt. “Have you… released yourself lately?”

And then he chokes on his coffee. You blink, watching in fascination as he coughs into his fist, setting the cup down too aggressively. He tilts his head slightly down, running a hand over his mouth, exhaling sharply like he’s trying to stay alive.

You purse your lips. "Wow. That was dramatic."

Sylus glares at you, voice rougher than usual. "What kind of question is that?"

You lift your shoulders in an innocent shrug. “It just made me think. Maybe that’s why you’ve been all weird today. Maybe you just need to, you know…” You gesture vaguely with your fingers. “Take care of…”

Before you can finish, Sylus snatches the small bun from your plate and shoves it into your mouth, effectively silencing you. Your eyes widen in pure betrayal as you glare up at him, muffled by the mouthful of bread.

"Kitten…" he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he’s suffering some great burden. "You know very well that I adore you, but do me a favor and keep those ideas to yourself."

You chew slowly, staring at him, piecing things together. His grip on his cup, his stiff posture, the way his gaze seem desperately focused on anywhere but you. He’s embarrassed. Flustered.

You swallow the bite of bread, smirking as you tilt your head. "You’re blushing." You lean in, resting your chin in your hand. "You’re really telling me you’ve never gotten like that?"

Sylus exhales sharply, shifting in his seat. "Sweetie…" he said, warning.

"Come on," you press, voice dipping just a little, teasing. "You’re all moody, tense, acting like you haven’t had a moment to yourself in forever."

Sylus suddenly leans forward, his face mere inches from yours. You freeze. The café noise around you fades as his eyes flicker with something you hadn't seen.

"Kitten," he murmurs, low and smooth, "do you really want to know the answer to that question?"

You blink. Your heart does an unexpected little flip. …Wait. Did you just? Did you accidentally walk into his trap? Your throat bobs. Sylus’ smirk curls back into natural place. He sees it, sees the moment the teasing turns back on you. And that’s when he leans back, taking a slow sip of his coffee like nothing happened.

"Eat up."

You stay silent, but your mind is racing. He thinks he won. He thinks he got the last word. But no, oh no, you’re not letting this go. You know you’re right. You just need to make him admit it. Still, you force yourself to drop the subject for now, watching as he takes another casual sip of his coffee, like he didn’t just send your thoughts spiraling with that stupid smirk.

You spend the rest of the day together, running errands, taking the long way back through the city. Sylus, despite his usual sharp awareness, seems tired. It’s the kind of exhaustion he hates showing, but even he can’t hide it completely.

By the time you both make it back to your place, the sun has dipped lower in the sky, casting long golden streaks across the floor. You unlock the door, stepping inside as Sylus leans against the frame, rubbing again his tired eyes. 

You glance over at him. "You should take a nap."

“I'm fine, I can go home.”

You gesture toward the couch. "Nap here. You can leave after." Sylus stares at you for a moment. Then, in a move that genuinely surprises you, he actually sighs in defeat. He shrugs off his coat, tossing it over the armrest before sinking onto the couch. You make space, removing some plushies and pulling out a blanket. You move away to get some water when a strong hand suddenly grabs your wrist. 

Your voice hitches. "Sy-!?" pulling you down onto the couch, straight into him. Your back hits solid warmth, his body firm beneath yours, and for a brief moment, you forget how to breathe. His head drops forward, resting against your back. A slow, steady breath fans against your shoulder. Your carefully crafted schemes? Gone. Vanished. Replaced by the very real, very warm reality of Sylus beneath you, his breath slow and steady, his body solid and impossibly close.

"C-Can you sleep like this?"

Sylus doesn’t answer. Instead, he just lets out a low growl, shifting slightly as if trying to get comfortable. You swear you feel the vibration of it through your whole body. You shift slightly, trying to regain some sense of control. "Sylus?"

Again, no verbal response. Just another slow breath, another barely-there rumble of a sound. His arms tighten just a little more around your waist. You swear he’s doing this on purpose. You stay completely still, your mind racing, desperately trying to figure out your next move. But then Sylus nuzzles slightly against your back, and every single thought leaves your brain. Oh, this bastard.

You huff, twisting slightly to get a look at his face. "Hey, are you actually asleep or just pretending so you can mess with me?"

Nothing. Just the slow rise and fall of his chest, the completely at ease expression on his face, his lips slightly parted, his head still resting against your shoulder blade.

…Okay. Maybe he actually is asleep. That was quick. He must be really at the end of his strength. You bite your lip, debating your options. You could move, try to wiggle out of his grasp, but that would mean more contact, and you’re not sure if you can break free that easily. Or you could be evil. Your lips curl slightly.

You shift again, this time, intentionally. A slow, careful movement, rolling your hips just slightly in his lap, like you’re innocently adjusting your position. The reaction is instantaneous. Sylus lets out a low, sharp inhale, his grip tightening just a fraction before his entire body freezes. For a moment, there’s silence.

So, you do it again. Another small roll of your hips, your weight pressing slightly into his lap. Still nothing. You try it a few more times and then you feel it. Something hard presses against your butt, unmistakable even through layers of fabric. Your breath catches. Your entire body locks up in realization, the warmth rushing up your spine now burning at your face. Oh. Oh, shit.

You freeze completely, pulse hammering, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. The firm press of Sylus' thighs beneath you, the heat of him against your back, the fact that you started something you weren’t sure would lead. You just wanted to tease him and now he is hard under you. 

“Kitten...” Your heartbeat slams against your ribs. His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Stay still.”

You bite your lip, waiting, expecting him to react, to throw some cocky remark your way but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays completely still like he’s fighting something, like he’s trying to force this moment back under control. You’re not going to let him. Slowly you shift your hips again. Sylus exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching where they rest against your waist.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "Are you going to tell me why you’re so tense?" You push further. "I mean, you’ve been acting weird all day." You let your voice dip just slightly, playing into the innocence of it. "Wouldn’t have anything to do with what we talked about this morning, would it?"

Sylus finally speaks with a dangerous rasp against your ear.

You want to burn this into your memory. Your heart is thudding, loud in your ears. You swallow, barely trusting your voice as you whisper.

"You should stop."

A shiver actually runs down your spine because of that tone. That is not his usual teasing. Slowly, cautiously, you turn your head to look at him, really look at him. And that’s when you see it. Sylus’ face is flushed. His jaw is tight, his lips slightly parted like he’s struggling to breathe evenly. His hair is slightly messy, strands fallen across his flushed forehead.

His eyes flick to your lips… then lower, linger on your thighs, before dragging back up to meet yours. That paralyzes you because Sylus never looks like this. Your mouth goes dry. You’ve seen Sylus in many states: bored, smug, amused, deadly. But this? This is something else entirely. You’ve imagined it, sure. On lonely nights, in quiet fantasies, in those dangerous thoughts you don’t usually entertain for long. And it’s such an erotic image that the idea of getting off his lap now feels like a death sentence. Like stepping away from something you might never get the chance to see again.

“…Why?”

His eyes darken instantly. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand comes to rest on your thigh. Is light but the heat of it burns through the fabric.

“Because if you keep going…” he murmurs, but stops himself. A mocking smile appears on his lips again. “Why do you want to know so badly?” His thumb brushes the inside of your thigh, maddeningly light. “Is it curiosity?” he continues. “Is it the power? Or…” his eyes flicker to your lips again, “do you just like imagining it?”

Your heart stutters. He leans in, just enough that you feel the heat of his breath ghost over your cheek, his voice a whisper meant for no one but you.

“Be honest, kitten. Is it me you’re thinking about… when you’re restless?”

Your pulse trips.

“You ask that like you want it to be you.” You tilt your head, eyes dancing with mock thoughtfulness. “I mean, it could be. But there are so many options. It’d be unfair to name just one. Why so curious?” you murmur. “Feeling a little... worked up yourself?” You move a bit more on his lap. He is still hard, you bit your lip. 

“If I said yes,” he murmurs, voice low and velvety, “would that change anything?”

Your lips twitch with a teasing smile. “Maybe,” you say, leaning in just enough to make it sting. “Or maybe I’d just watch.”

“Careful, kitten. If you watch too long… you might beg to join.”

[randomshyperson]

hiii😸

i wanna request wanda with hugs no. 31😻 ur fluff is so good i want to bash my head into the wall

/pos

hope u get free from ur writer's block!!😻

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: hugging while straddling the partner | words: 2066k | warnings: (+18), dark(ish)!wanda, smut, bottom!reader, dom!wanda mainly, implied variant death sorry, but happy ending for the main.

a/n-> this is the last one actually, i got my drafts confused if you saw more in the masterlist you didn't. i won't be posting anything for a while now just to write new series but I won't be gone for long I hope.

challenge masterlist | general masterlist

-&-

Considering all the things that had happened until she reached this moment, Wanda expected there to be more noise.

Fighting. Or even pain.

Two years and six hundred and eighty-four universes and she had finally found you.

Not a fallen hero version, not an evil clone, not a dead wife.

Just you, available, alive and asleep.

The room was dimly lit by the rays of sunlight that passed through the half-open curtain. Her variant must have gotten up early to prepare breakfast, and Wanda took complete control before she could even open the door. She took in little of the room, mostly focused on your sleeping figure in the bed in the corner, peaceful and vulnerable.

Five universes ago a variant of you had tried to arrest her for crimes against the multiverse, so this calmness was quite the bonus.

She quickly inspected the most recent memories before the deepest ones. This Wanda didn't know she loved you like that, not yet. Young and naive, this variant was rewarded with an entire childhood and adolescence by your side. Friends since kindergarten, the deep intimacy between you was beautiful to watch. Easy to envy.

It was a sadistic joke that in all the universes, she was the only one having a miserable life.

Controlling her own irritation, Wanda pushed those memories away and sighed deeply. You moved, searching for her warmth in the mattress and she wondered if your variant was already sure of what she knew many universes ago. You were made for each other.

She watched you with some curiosity. She still wasn't sure how she would do it. She hardly had a clear plan. She took very deliberate actions now, which was probably why she always ended up with some wizard on the way, close to some interdimensional prison.

But as you woke up, Wanda felt around that reality. There was magic like most, but it wasn't as strong even in the body she occupied now. This Wanda was a beginner witch, with simple levitation or tarot tricks that she could use to make you laugh in admiration.

Your sleepy figure finally opened its eyes, felt the bed, turned your face, and faced her standing in the middle of the room. Wanda felt so small, not at all like the great Scarlet Witch. She was almost like a child, eager to please. To be liked. When you frowned at her, she wondered if you were already able to tell she was a fraud, an impostor.

But your expression softened, and you chucked hoarsely.

 "Were you watching me sleep? Creep."

Oh, you had no idea.

Wanda swallowed, forcing a chuckle. "I wasn't." She lies quickly, pushing away emotional nausea as your tousled-haired, sleepy-eyed figure brings back similar memories of a life she doesn't know how to get back. She clears her throat and looks away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "I was just going to get breakfast. Do you want anything?"

"Yeah." You chuckle relaxedly, patting the mattress as you rest your elbows on the bed, your back against the headboard. "Come back to bed. It's too damn early."

She sees it then, when the sheet loses in your body and she catches a glimpse of your neck full of purple marks. The most recent memories are indeed different from what she searched for before. Peeking again, it's a bit overwhelming to be invaded by the sensations of your kisses and groping all at once, a night of steamy making out in that bed, after a college party that ended long after the time you and the variant returned to this dorm. Wanda sighs, realizing that this body misses your touch just as much as she does. So addictive for every single one of her, no matter the universe.

But her silence brings a hesitation to your face, and you settle better in bed. 

"Hey, if this is about last night..." You begin, a little awkwardly with a nervous giggle. One of your hands pushes your hair back in a nervous gesture, and Wanda gasps softly. The tattoo on her forearm has very familiar symbols. She searched every corner of the multiverse and ended up with a punk covered in protective runes. This was Strange's work, of course. He was probably going to as many worlds as she was. Protecting variants before Wanda could reach them. Take them for herself. You, oblivious to the whole thing, kept talking. "It's okay if you regret it. We don't even have to talk about it if it's weird. I mean, if you want we can even go back to being just friends, I definitely don't want to lose-"

"You're not." She cuts you off, taking steps towards the bed. You fall silent in surprise, but Wanda forces a smile. "Where did you get that tattoo again?"

You frown at the sudden change of subject, stammering a little as you try to remember and then finally laugh, looking at her with some confusion. "It's just reindeer, remember? That strange woman made it for us at the beach last week. It should go away soon."

Wanda searched a little more and found the memory you mentioned. Beach, friends, witches she didn't know, that this variant didn't know how to perceive yet. A witch using the opportunity to draw protective spells on your skin as if she could read the danger in your future.

She took a deep breath and walked closer until she felt her shins hit your bed.

"Maybe you should take it off now."

You hum absently, looking at the tattoo. "Why? I liked it. You also said it was pretty. Maybe I could even make it permanent-"

"No!" She snaps back through gritted teeth, startling you a little. Forcing a smile then, Wanda considers the options. She probably can't mess with your memory right now, maybe she can keep you calm, until she finds an appropriate solution. "I just... I think your first tattoo should be something more meaningful, sweetheart. And not some cheap art from a charlatan, huh?"

You frown, before your chucle again, looking at her with confusion. "Wanda, are you high?" We got our first tattoos together in high school. Have you really forgotten that?" You look upset. Wanda hates this. Hates it with all her might. Out of everything she’s ever done, hurting you is probably the most painful and stupid thing she ever did.

She shakes her head, forcing a giggle. She bends her knees and crawls towards you, which immediately wipes the frown off your face.

Young people and their hormones.

“Oh, babe, I just got confused. I’m sorry.” She begins, and you swallow hard as she takes her place on your lap. Your hands hesitate on the mattress until Wanda grabs them and moves to her waist. “Don’t be upset.”

With your mouth dry, you try, “I’m not.” but it comes out so hoarse that Wanda wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been so close. Her hands close behind your head, and you wait for her to make the first move like the good girl you’ve always been no matter what universe.

Wanda shouldn’t risk it, but she can’t resist. You seem so eager for her to do it too that she doesn’t have the heart not to. The kiss starts out innocent, tentative. She wants to know the extent of the protection runes, and eventually, she realizes that you were right about the ink coming off. Wanda manages to turn you into a mess of breathless whispers as she slides her tongue against yours, and once your arms are tightening around her waist, invading beneath her shirt, she can feel the runes melting in your skin, until finally, she feels no magic resistance. You are all hers to play with.

But like everything else she’s done, Wanda didn’t quite calculate what kissing you would do to her. The effect on her body is ridiculously incapacitating and distracting. She knows she should be muttering spells, but all that comes out of her mouth are affected gasps. Your hands move down, grabbing her ass and grinding her against your lap and Wanda forgets what she came here to do.

"I cannot believe..." You groan suddenly, between one kiss and another. "That we've gone so long without doing this." Wanda bites your lip, pulling and making you whimper, the sound sending a sharp throb through her belly. Your dilated pupils stare at her with such adoration that Wanda needs a moment.

She remembers those looks. She remembers everything. And it's only fair that you remember too.

Coming closer, she kisses you more fervently now. Enough to make you squirm on the mattress, trying to pull her down, increase the friction between your hips. But Wanda knows the passion will turn, so she controls the kiss, controls everything.

One of her hands wraps around your hair, and she's still kissing you, taking the air from your lungs as the first memories dance in flashes behind your eyes.

You frown in confusion, trying to pull away, but Wanda kisses you again, and again until you gasp in shock and her magic goes deeper into your mind, invading you without you even realizing it.

Wanda's free hand suddenly goes inside your pants and you gasp against her mouth, surprised by the touch before surrendering completely to her.

Wanda pants into your mouth, and red irises glare at you when you break the kiss with a moan. She's not gentle, her fingers pushing your panties aside and not bothering to collect much of the surrounding moisture before sinking inside, filling you up all at once. She twists her hand, pushing deeper and you whimper into her mouth. Oh, how Wanda missed feeling you like this, coming undone against her fingers. 

There’s a flash of memories again, of a team of heroes and a battle, but Wanda adjusts her hand and her palm presses against your clit, and you break into a moan and throw your head forward on her shoulder. She hums in satisfaction, the hand that’s not inside your pants moving past your hair, to your back in an attempt to calm you. 

The memories will get worse, you’ll remember everything eventually. 

Wanda knows that sooner or later you will- Your hand wraps around her throat suddenly. She’s startled, of course, but the sound sounds much more like a moan than a protest of pain. Your eyes glow the same scarlet as hers, and the once-innocent expression carries a maturity that only memories of a lifetime could give you. Your hips are still moving—hard and fast against her hand, but Wanda feels much less in charge. You squeeze her neck as you come, and she feels so ridiculously turned on that she can barely move her fingers, being used up in the final waves of your climax. Not a second later, your hand pushes hers away, and her body is pushed next. Pressed against the bed with you on top, instead of holding her neck, you hold both your hands above her head.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on, but this is a very welcome way to bring someone back to life."

She chuckles affectedly, with emotion, with lust. A little - a lot - of both. But in the end, emotion wins. The tears in her eyes are indeed from longing.

"It's so good to see you again, darling." She says hoarsely, her hands still clasped on top of her head.

You sigh, loosening your grip without letting go of her. "Wanda, how..." But she looks like she'll start crying, for real, if you have to explain. You sigh again in defeat and soften your gaze. "How about that coffee? And you explain everything to me calmly."

She nods, smiling tearfully. "You'll have to get off of me first." She jokes, but you look at her mouth and get a little closer to her face. 

"Yeah, in a minute. I don't know how long it's been, honey, but you've managed to get even more stunning." 

She laughs shyly. "Good to know you're still a flirt." 

"Only with my girl." That's what you say before closing the distance. Wanda doesn't need to think about anything or worry as long as she has this. No multiverse, no possible dead variants. She has you, and that's all that matters.

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part four

Pairing: Eris x reader x Azriel | WC: 3.3k | warnings: general angst, nudity, horniness

Summary: despite the disastrous turn last night took, life continues on. Maybe, just maybe Eris’s treatment of you has Azriel reconsidering things.

Author’s note: happy birthday to me! I’m giving you all angst. Your anguish is the best present I could ask for 🫶🏻 (ps eventually things will be shifting, I promise the angst train has an end in sight)

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The rest of the night had been terrible. After retiring to your room, you bathed quite angrily, splashing water all over the room, uncaring at the mess you made. Even the calming atmosphere of your bathroom did little to improve your mood. You wanted to be more destructive, wanted to throw the bottles of product that lined your bathtub. You added smelling salts and bubbles, lit candles, did everything to calm yourself. In spite of it, adrenaline and jealousy kept pumping through your veins.

It wasn’t just anger and jealousy threatening to tear you apart - the emptiness you felt in your chest made you contemplate sticking your head beneath the water. The once strong mating bond that consumed your every thought was silent, the spot it occupied in your chest feeling like it would collapse in on itself at any moment. Even during your week of avoiding Azriel, some primal part of you still relished in the feeling of him in your chest, at least just knowing he was there.

But now he wasn’t and the bath felt more alone.

Your vexation carried you from the bath to your bed, making it impossible to even read Azriel’s latest journal. You were angry and worried, stuck staring at your ceiling all night, begging for the goddess of sleep to take you under.

She must have taken pity on you at some point, but your sleep still hadn’t been enough. Your eyes were heavy when you woke, head pounding as you went about your day. Most of it was spent with Madja, brewing potions and salves to drop off to patients at the end of the day. The healer had a few appointments with longtime patients, so you spent the afternoon alone finishing drafts and brews. The silence didn’t bother you as much today - your anger long gone, its departure making ample room for the growing hole in your chest.

Overthinking and doubt kept your mind occupied as you went through the motions of bottling and labeling. Would you see Azriel today? His sudden departure last night left your skin burning from his withdrawn touch.

The mating bond was still silent as you worked, a first in the months since the bond had made itself known to you. You passed, a thought overtaking you.

Azriel had seemed startled to know about it, but had he been feeling you inside of his chest since he found out the truth? Or was his chest a tangle of yours and Eris’s emotions? Presently they were likely the same emotions, if Eris’s anger at seeing you was anything to go off of.

You couldn’t drag out the bottling forever, eventually reaching the end with many more thoughts to untangle and work through. A sigh escaped from your lips, but you checked all the vials, ensuring every fae you were supposed to see today had a matching vial. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to center yourself. The deliveries wouldn’t be too difficult, only a moment of interaction with each patient, but the turmoil you felt made the simple task seem monumental.

How were you supposed to chat with these fae and pretend everything was fine when you had a mate out there who was betrothed to another?

The breath helped you feel slightly better, but it was more difficult than you’d like to admit to take that step out into the sun, the brightness nearly blinding after your night of solitude and sadness.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as you expected. You ran all around Velaris, your feet more sore with each delivery, the pain a new thing to fixate on. The bright sun had made the throbbing in your head worse, the bright reflections off of windows making you squint as you walked the streets.

Your lack of sleep did little to help your mood, but you tried to put on a happy front for the fae you saw semi-regularly. Sleeping tonics, tonics to prevent chills or locking joints, even energy boosting tonics rattled about in your pouch as your boots hit the cobbled streets.

At some point the sun had become hidden by clouds, making the journey a little less intense.

The last potion had been dropped off, just in time for a light snow to begin to fall. You huffed out a breath, watching the air in front of your face steam up from the heat. You smiled, thinking of the tales from childhood of dragons fanning out breaths of fire.

Your chest opened up, the subtle feeling that was Azriel crept back inside, nestling deep within you. His presence in your chest was comforting, a gentle reminder that you weren’t alone.

You turned your attention back to the path ahead only to find the shadowsinger himself where you were headed, his large wings tucked in behind himself, a polite smile on his face. Gone was the anger that dropped your hand and coated the silence, replaced now with as much joy as Azriel puts on display when out in public.

Seeing Azriel at the end of the road once more was a welcome surprise. Every day that you worked he waited for you there before flying the two of you back to the House of Wind. At first you had apologized profusely each time he came, worried he found it tedious and would resent you for it. After the routine of it fell into place, you had stopped apologizing.

Once Azriel had been away, unable to collect you, he sent Cassian in his stead. His brother was not nearly as gentle as he was during the flight, your face more green once you landed at the House.

The next day Azriel had been waiting for you, a box of pastries in apology. The taste of powdered sugar filled your mouth as you remembered him flying you to a park, sharing with him the sugary sweets.

When you had left for work this morning, you thought he would have forgotten to do it, hiding himself away once more. Maybe the Mother made you two mates because she found the two most avoidant fae and thought it would be funny to stick them together, her favorite form of entertainment watching the two of you find one reason or another to avoid each other.

Once you got close enough, you smiled up at him, a weight of worry about him sliding from your shoulders into the thin patch of snow.

“Hi Az.”

He smiled in return, not a trace of the previous day on him. It felt almost like a dream the way he had pushed you aside so quickly.

“How was your day?”

“My feet hurt. I’ve been every which way in Velaris today dropping off restocks.” You don’t mention the previous day, your lost sleep, your being locked out of your bond, or your resolution to beat Eris for Azriel’s affections. You stuck to a safe topic. “I think my boots lost their conformity to my feet in the week I took off.”

He chuckled, wings shaking slightly. The smile made him so beautiful against the snowy backdrop, his black wings and dark skin against the glistening snow making him more radiant. His shadows trailed lazily in the cracks of the cobblestone around you, several of them lingering in your shadow. One bold shadow lingered behind you, swirling where the shadow of your lips laid.

“May I escort you back to the house? Unless there was something else you needed in town.”

You paused, pretending to mull over his question. Had something happened since you saw him almost twenty four hours ago? Had he discovered how terrible Eris truly was by now? You pursed your lips, trying to stop the smile on your face at the thought. A small part of you hoped that wasn’t the case - you were prepared to go to the ends of the earth to compete with Eris Vanserra, ready to prove your worth as a mate to Azriel. Gloating to the redhead was the ultimate goal.

A forfeit from the Autumn heir seemed almost in poor spirit.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Stepping forward, his shadows began curling around you, pulling you to their master. You strained your ears, certain you could almost hear a tiny voice cooing mine, mine, mine. Azriel’s warm hand pressed against your back as he lifted you with ease, pressing you tighter to his chest than normal. You were still upset, toeing that line of wanting to mention it. You looked up to find him already looking at you, his eyes shining with adoration, knocking any ill feelings from you.

“Ready?” His smooth voice was quiet, just for you. Just like he should be.

You nodded, your nose rubbing against his neck for warmth. The mating bond pulled at your chest, urging every part of you to touch him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he took off, fresh fallen snow flying once more as he flapped his wings.

You spent the entire flight focused on his face, watching the snow pile in his dark hair. His heat caused some of the snow to melt, water droplets moving down his neck to beneath his leathers. Your hands were ice without your gloves, a forgotten part of your wardrobe in your tired decision making this morning. You huddled your hands closer to him, pressing them where his chest met your body, desperate for warmth to bring life back to them.

“Almost there.” His arm tightened around you, and you felt his hand reaching out, trying and failing to reach your cold hands.

The House of Wind looked resplendent in the snow, something out of a fairytale. His wings glided through the sky, the snow sliding across the membrane. Azriel landed with practiced ease, a gentleness that kept surprising you. Instead of setting you down like he normally did, he moved forward, his steps gentle. You looked around, confused why you were still in his arms as he stepped inside the house.

“Az, what are you doing?”

“Carrying you.” You sighed as his mouth turned up slightly into a smile, clearly proud of himself for his joke. The flight had already made him shed the public persona he adopts, even in the streets of Velaris.

“I can see that, but why?” Your tone held a touch of faux irritation, only causing his smile to widen.

“Your feet hurt.”

Those words stopped all protests on your tongue. He was caring for you. For you. The thought had heat creeping up your cheeks.

Maybe he felt the same way you had about Eris. That things with you could be easy. That Eris was hard to love, hard to keep secret. But you - you were kind, his family would be much happier with your mateship than his with Eris.

He led the two of you right before your door, a shadow creeping up to twist the handle. Flurries of black slithered the floor beneath your bathroom, the sound of running water making its way beneath the door.

Azriel sat you down in a chair. He kneeled before you before he began unlacing your boots. He looked beautiful, the sight of him before you sent heat through your body.

A little moan escaped as he removed your boot, rotating your ankle to help sooth the dull ache. He started working on the other shoe until that one came off as well. He took his time, scarred hands massaging your calves, his fingers moving in soft circles.

His ministrations slowly took the day off your feet, the ache duller with each passing second until he slowly tapered off, his hands lingering for a moment on your calves.

“I think you can do the rest of this.” He gestured to your clothes, and it took everything not to ask what if I want you to do it?

You were quiet instead as he stood up, dusting off his pants. Your eyes moved to his thighs, trailing to find the imprint of his cock stretching his pants. You curled your hand into a fist, trying to keep your own arousal to a minimum.

Patience.

“I’ll be in the library again, if you wish to sit with me after your bath.”

Your hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist. One word floated through your mind.

“Stay. Please.”

Azriel’s cheeks flushed a brilliant shade that made him so endearing in the moonlight.

“I have books you could read or you could bring your work in here.” He was starting to consider it, hesitation clear in his face. “I’d like the company.”

His shadows danced around him as he sat on the bed, waiting patiently. You stared back at him, slightly surprised it actually worked. Getting Azriel to change his mind was a feat worthy of a trophy. He was the most stubborn of his brothers, an insane feat considering your fight with Cassian over raisins months ago that he still brought up on occasion. Pushing yourself out of the chair, you kept your eyes on him.

“You could sit in the bathroom with me.”

His body stiffened, and doubt crept up your throat. Had you gone too far?

“Do you have any books to suggest?”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading before bounding over to your bookshelf, fingers gliding across spines you had abandoned these past few weeks in favor of Azriel’s journals. You quickly find one you know he’d enjoy - a tale of deceit and lies that see two spies falling in love despite their mistruths.

You thrusted the book into his hands, your fingers meeting his before slowly peeling your hands away and turning to the bathroom. A few shadows curled around your ankles as you went, their cool caresses sending heat through your body.

You tossed your hair on top of your head quickly, leaving your outer clothes in a pile on the floor before sliding into the warm water. The comfort the bath provided began instantly, your muscles relaxing.

A shadow squeezed between the door and floor, its entrance dramatic and impossible to miss. You peered over the bathtub as it approached you, reaching your hand out to pet it.

“He can come in.” The shadow hesitated, staying in your proximity, lavishing in your praise as you kept stroking along it. It felt cool and like a contained breeze. You had touched Azriel’s shadows before and they generally had two states - a more solid form like now, where it feels like you’re touching it, and a more loose form, where your hand would pass right through it.

The shadow stretched out like a cat, black wispiness elongating before it finally moved back beneath the door. A moment passed before Azriel walked through the bathroom, his boots loud on the tile. He passed quickly, finding the wall opposite where you faced, sitting and leaning his back against it. A smile crossed his lips as he met your eye before opening the book, sinking slightly further into the floor.

It felt so domestic to be in the tub while he read. The slight musk of his arousal clung to you, the intoxicating scent driving you wild. It wasn’t inherently sexual to be naked in the bath while he sat a few feet away.

Thoughts raced as you thought of the daily routine this could become - the way his hands would trail down your body, helping you with buttons and laces, your own fingers working to undo the intricacies of his leathers. He could be in the tub with you right now, his strong chest behind you as you two read or gossiped about the day.

There’d be a lull, a domestic quiet that say Azriel’s hands moving beneath the bath water, stroking up your thigh, closer and closer to right where you needed him.

You were sure this present version of Azriel could smell you in the room and you weren’t sure if you were disappointed or not he hadn’t mentioned it. His eyes stayed focused on the book in front of him, flipping pages on occasion.

The water stayed warm, but you were tired of Azriel’s focus never making its way to you. A shadow curled around his ear as you reached out of the tub, your towel just a bit past arm’s reach. Azriel’s hand wrapped around the towel, gently unfolding it and holding it out, waiting for you to step into it. You looked up at him, the red tips of his ears the only hint at the effect this has on him.

He looked away as you stood up, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as the water splashed in the tub.

You reached your hands out, using his arms for balance as you stepped out, guiding his hands to wrap the towel around you.

Azriel finally looked back down, his hazel eyes almost black as they met yours. Your hand met his chest, needing his sturdiness to keep your legs from giving out. The low light of the bathroom cast shadows throughout his face, the darkness an endless part of him.

Scarred hands reached up and held your face with such delicacy you almost melted. The water was still in the tub behind you, no sound to be heard save for the anticipation drumming your heart rate.

His lips were so close to yours, one lone shadow moving between your shared breaths, exacerbating the distance between you two. You prepared yourself - breathing in and out, about to push forward, make the leap, when a sharp inhale stopped you.

“I can’t.” Azriel didn’t move, his eyes pained with turmoil. Somewhere deep in your chest your heart shattered, the pieces falling to your stomach. “I can’t cross that line. Not without Eris.”

“Eris?” You said his name as if it was a deadly plague.

Him?

If Eris was still in the picture, why had Azriel come to find you? Why had he been so kind? Why had he treated you with a tenderness you’ve only experienced from lovers?

“I can’t betray him like this. Not after everything.” His hands gripped your waist tighter, as if by sheer force he could change the circumstances.

“I don’t understand, Az. I’m your mate too.”

“Yes, but I haven’t made any promises to you.”

The shattered pieces of your heart were splintering, the pain radiating through your torso, the string around your heart squeezing so tight it was threatening to kill you.

“So I’m once again punished for not being first in line with the mating bond.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” You had to look away from him, unable to look at the pleading in his eyes any longer. What he wanted - you to leave, you to stay, for all of this to be different - you didn’t know.

“It’s certainly what I’m hearing. If you can’t be with me because of Eris, why did you seek me out?”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“When was it not intentional? You brought me home, you made me a bath. You helped me out of my clothes, Azriel! That’s not something I’d let Cassian do!”

The soft growl Azriel let out at his brother’s name gave you pause.

“I didn’t do that out of friendship.”

“Then what was it out of?”

He stared at you, his mouth opening and closing, indecision laying on his tongue. A shadow nudged his back in encouragement, something he didn’t find. He was grasping, searching for something that never came.

Each beat of your heart caused you to sink further and further into despair.

“Well, if you don’t even know why you’re here, maybe you should leave.”

A wing twitched over his shoulder, but no other part of him moved for a whole minute. The silence was almost painful, his shadows floating in the still air until they were disturbed by their master turning his grip loose on you, leaving you alone once more.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears 🫶🏻

Only, only one taglist: @paleidiot @becstersworld @seasonallyapril @buttermilktea11 @wolfbc97 @carmenadkins78 @shadowsingercassia @abysshaven @myromanempiree @snatched-bubblegum-bitch @chaos-on-stand-bi @moonlwghts @witchymomfrien @awkwardnerd @ssmay123 @scarsandallaz @meritxellao @saltedcoffeescotch @2ooopenbook @wintersquirrel @manicmanuscription @wavegirl @thisishwrworld @tempermentalbookworm @romantasyreader28 @marina468 @i-know-i-can @rcarbo1 @lifesdisasters @tele86 @ireneisbored @yazzzmints @azysmate @bsenpai @curiosandcourioser @elisha-chloe @yasmin-oviedo @that-one-little-soybean @azrielslittledove @stormieandateacup @anon1227 @phoenix666stuff @asahinasstuff @acourtofbatboydreams @anainkandpaper @mother-above @sunshinedayz19 @bibliophilr @famousprincesscollector @calamislunafox

If you want to be on my taglist or aren’t getting tagged, let me know 🫶🏻

Thanks for reading 🥰

[seoktized]

nsfw mdni!

a/n: cheol rot is back guys.. this has been sittin’ in my drafts for a while n i wanted to try n finish it :> hope you enjoy <3 reblogs are appreciated

thinkin’ about sugardaddy husband!seungcheol who’ll spoil you with so many gifts !!

whether it’s designer clothes or jewelry, if he thinks you’ll like it, he’s getting it for you!

loves to take you on shopping sprees, carrying all your bags and watching with a smile as you excitedly walk into another store. he loves to see you happy.

now if you two were to step in a lingerie store, he gets a bit excited, knowing you guys’ll walk out with something he can ravish you in later.

seungcheol, who looks absolutely delicious, manspreading with his sleeves pulled up, is watching as you show him different sets. yes, he was hard but he had a good bit of self restraint. but when you stepped out with a gorgeous color that complemented your skin so well, all that restraint went out the window.

next thing you know, you’re being pushed back into the dressing room, his lips finding yours. he pushed the door closed and locked it. his large hands felt around your body before he pulled back to get a good look at you before diving back in, kissing your jaw and down your neck.

“mmph- cheol, baby not here!” you whispered. he groaned into your neck, not giving up on his ministrations.

“baby i really need you to ride me right now. you look so pretty in this set.” he said in between kisses, “wanna buy a hundred of ‘em so i can rip ‘em all off of you.”

he moved over to sit on the chair in the corner of the dressing room, pulling you along with him and onto his lap.

seungcheol placed you right over his thick bulge, groaning as you rolled your hips against him.

you quickly unbuttoned his pants (which looked like they were going to burst at the seam at how thick his cock AND his thighs were) he helped you a bit by ridding himself of his pants and his boxers, his thick hard cock springing out and slapping against his stomach.

you spat on your hand, coating his length a bit before moving your own underwear to the side and sinking down on him. you never got used to the delicious stretch he’d give you every time, soft broken moans leaving your mouth.

“can’t make too much noise, princess. fuck- don’t want anyone to hear how dirty you’re being.” he said through gritted teeth.

when you began to bounce on his cock, seungcheol threw his head back, trying not to moan loudly himself. his bottom lip caught between his teeth while he watched you make a mess on his cock. his hands that were on your thighs went to your ass, squeezing the flesh softly.

trying not to moan was impossible as his tip was hitting that spot that sent sparks throughout your whole body. burying your face in the crook of his neck, you whimpered quietly.

“cheollie ‘m getting tired..” you mumbled.

“s’okay, doll, you can relax. lemme help you.” he reassured.

you relaxed your body and let seungcheol take over. your eyes rolled back as his thrusts were now a bit harder and quicker, desperately trying to get you both to reach your peak as you guys had been gone for a suspicious amount of time.

“fuck fuck fuck- cheol right there!” you whined before your mouth went agape, orgasm washing over you. you were gripping him so tightly seungcheol knew he wouldn’t last much longer either.

seungcheol gave a few deep thrusts before cumming as well, letting your cunt milk him dry.

he let you lay there for a second, allowing your to catch your breath before reminding you that you two needed to leave.

he somewhat kept his word, buying you that same set in every color they had. a dopey smile on his face while the two of you exited the store, his mind occupied with how many positions he’d have you in later tonight <3

[ateezscupid]

Idol Yeosang x reader smut Takes place after a fan meet where she has a tear in her clothing

─── 𝗡𝗗𝗔.

warnings ✩ FLUFF&SMUT, EVENTUAL SMUT!! fem!reader, soft dom!yeosang, sub!reader, idol au, there is a SHIT TON of sexual tension before anything actually happens, virgin!reader, fingering (f receiving), oral (f), unprotected sex, praise, light choking, relationship not established, idol x fan basically, YOU'LL GET A WARNING BEFORE THE SMUT HAPPENS.

word count ✩ 6,52k (i know i'm so sorry)

tags ✩ @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @desirehorizon @tangerineastronaut

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST

NOTE !! Much longer than I had planned for it to be, but don't worry, there is smut. This has been in my drafts for well over a year. had to get it out the way, LOL.

After what felt like forever, you finally got the chance to meet Ateez at a fan-meet. You've seen so many videos of Atiny's reactions to seeing them in person, but nothing prepared you for the real thing. The moment you saw them, your heart skipped a beat, and your palms grew sticky with excitement. You had rehearsed what you'd say a hundred times in the mirror, but now, face-to-face with your favorite member, Yeosang, your mind had gone utterly blank.

You wanted to look pretty. You had picked out the perfect outfit weeks ago—a long-sleeve, off-white crop top, a short black pleated skirt, black sheer tights, black heels, and a small red shoulder bag as an accessory. You didn't think it was too much. It was a simple outfit! But as soon as you saw Yeosang standing there, his eyes scanning the room, you felt like you were dressed for a wedding, not a meet and greet.

As they went back to their seats and lines started forming, you held your little photocard book in your hands, eyes switching between the members. Your gaze was mostly spent on Yeosang. You felt like you were in a trance. Your heart was racing, but you had to snap out of it.

You took your time with each member, making friendly conversation and sharing brief but meaningful moments, yet Yeosang remained a blurry figure in the corner of your mind. The anticipation grew as the line inched closer to where he sat. His gentle smile and soft laughter from the interactions before yours echoed in your ears, fueling your nerves.

And finally, you were here. You sat across from him and smiled, sitting the book on the table. Yeosang looked up, and his eyes met yours, and for a split second, it felt like the entire room had stopped spinning. He was even more breathtaking in person. His smile grew wider as he took your book into his hands. The gentle way his fingers grazed the pages made your cheeks burn.

"H-Hi," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Yeosang looked up from the book, his eyes meeting yours again, and you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body. He had the most mesmerizing smile, his eyes lighting up with genuine warmth.

"Your outfit looks great," he said, his voice as smooth as honey. It took you a second to realize he was referring to your outfit, and the compliment left you feeling flustered.

"Thank you! Um, I-I wanted--um,"

"Are those your photocards?" Yeosang asked, nodding at the book. You nodded, feeling your cheeks grow hotter. "You have quite a collection," he said with admiration, flipping through the pages. Your eyes followed his every move, watching as his thumb traced over the images of the members, pausing briefly at his own.

Some photocards had signatures from the other members. All but Yeosang's. Without being asked, he grabs the pen beside him and signs the empty card. You watched as the ink danced across the card, his signature neat and confident.

"Thank you." you smiled, trying to compose yourself. Yeosang's eyes looked up from the book, meeting yours again. There was something in his gaze that made you feel seen, like he was really looking at you, not just at a fan in line.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I noticed you've been eyeing me all night. Is there something you want to say?"

"I-I have-? I'm so sorry, this is like -- my first time going to one of these things so I just…I-I'm nervous. I didn't mean to stare," you stuttered, feeling your cheeks blaze with embarrassment. Yeosang chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's okay," he assured you, his voice still soft. "I don't mind. In fact, I'm flattered. But, tell me, which member is your favorite?"

"You," you blurted out without thinking, your eyes widening in horror. The words hung in the air for a beat too long before you could scramble to recover. "I mean, I like all of Ateez, but if I had to pick, I guess I've always had a soft spot for… you." Yeosang's smile grew into a full-blown grin, his eyes gleaming with delight.

He leaned in closer, and for a second, you thought he was going to tease you about it, but instead, he said, "You know, you're the first one to answer that question so honestly." His words sent a warm wave through you, and you couldn't help but blush even more.

You made a weird, stuttering noise, your face feeling hotter than a sunburn. "Re-really?"

Yeosang nodded, still smiling. "Really. Most fans are shy about it, but I like your honesty." He leaned back in his chair, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. The silence grew heavier, and you felt your palms start to sweat.

You shudder, pushing your hair behind your ear. "T-That's--thank you. Or--you're welcome-? I-I don't know w-what to say."

Yeosang's grin softens, his eyes looking into yours. "No need to be nervous," he says gently. "I'm just as human as you are."

You nod. "Can I say something that's--I don't know, it may be corny.." you sniffle. "I always thought that if I went to these, the idol would get this big crush on me and they'd want me to meet them after to sign an NDA or something." You chuckle a bit after saying it and then pause.

Why. Why would you say that-?! Now he's going to think you're one of those crazy, obsessive fans! Panic starts to set in, but before you can apologize, Yeosang laughs. It's a light, airy sound that makes you feel less like you're about to hyperventilate.

"Where'd you get that from?" he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes. You shrug, trying to play it off.

"Just, you know, fan fantasies, fansites," you reply with a forced chuckle. "I-Is it not true-?"

He narrows his eyes, still grinning. "I can't say. It's an NDA after all." The mischief in his tone made you laugh, the tension in the air dissipating slightly. You felt a bit more at ease, the nervousness giving way to a genuine connection.

"Why do you ask? You had to have brought it up for a reason." he chuckled. "Did you want one? An NDA?"

You truly couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "N-No!" You blurt out, your heart racing. "It was just a random thought. I-I don't expect anything like that, I just--"

"Did you?" He teases, raising an eyebrow playfully. His eyes sparkle with humor, and for a moment, you forget where you are.

"I-I mean-" you glance around. Other people were getting up. Your time was ending quickly. "It was just a joke. A bad one."

Yeosang narrowed his eyes once more before tilting his head. "You're gonna be around here for a while, right? Maybe we can talk more after the fan-meet ends?" His question hung in the air, hopeful and casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your eyes widened. "R-Really?" You stuttered, trying to keep your voice from squeaking. He nodded, his smile never wavering. "H-How do I find you, I-"

"My number is on the back of the photocard." Yeosang said, handing the book back to you. You took it, your hands trembling slightly. He had actually given you his number? This had to be a dream.

But it wasn't. The fan-meet was real, and so was the warmth in his eyes as he spoke to you. You nodded, trying to keep your cool, even though your insides were doing somersaults. "Thank you," you managed to say, your voice a bit steadier.

It had been a few hours after the fan meet. You had been staring at his contact for the entire time. Should you text him? Was it really his number? You bit your lip, contemplating your options. You had his autograph and a promise of a conversation, but was it too much to hope for more? You decided to wait. The excitement of the fan meet was still buzzing through your veins, and you didn't want to ruin it with a potentially embarrassing text.

Then, your phone buzzed. You opened your messages and saw a text. From…Yeosang's number. "Hey. This is the girl from the fan-meet right?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly typed back, "Yes, it's me!" You couldn't believe it. He had actually reached out.

"I hope you're not too tired," Yeosang's message read. "But if you're still up for it, would you like to grab some ice cream?"

Your heart raced as you read the message. Yeosang was asking you out?! You reread the text, making sure it wasn't a typo or a prank. But as you looked at the screen, you saw the message was still there.

"Yes, I'd love to," you replied, trying to keep your excitement in check. You didn't want to come off too eager, but the thrill of his invitation was almost too much to handle.

"Great! There's a café not far from here that has amazing ice cream. Do you know where it is?" Yeosang's text was prompt as if he had been waiting for your response.

"No, but I can totally find it," you replied, feeling the butterflies in your stomach take flight. You quickly Googled the café's name and location, your fingers trembling with excitement. "I'll be there in 10 minutes!"

And in ten minutes, you had arrived. The cafe was empty besides for Yeosang and the barista. The walls were plastered with polaroids of past customers and a chalkboard menu that listed exotic flavors like matcha mint and honey lavender. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, but your heart was too busy doing somersaults to notice.

Yeosang sat at a corner booth, sipping from a cup, his eyes scanning over the room. When they met yours, he stood up with a smile, waving you over. "Hi," he said, his voice softer than you remembered. You couldn't believe that the same person who had been performing on stage earlier was now standing in front of you, in a simple white t-shirt and black jeans.

You took a deep breath, trying to play it cool, and slid into the booth across from him. "Hi," you replied, your voice barely a whisper. He laughed, a sound that made your heart flutter.

"You don't have to be so nervous," he said, setting down his coffee cup. "I'm just a person who likes ice cream."

You nodded, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. "I know, I just…" You paused, searching for the right words. "This is all so surreal."

Yeosang leaned in slightly, his eyes holding yours. "I get it. But we're just two people sharing a sweet treat, okay?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. The tension in your shoulders eased a bit. You ordered your ice cream, going for the Homerun Ball—his favorite, you remembered from a past interview. Yeosang's eyes lit up when he saw your choice.

"Good call," he said, his smile widening. "It's my go-to when I'm stressed."

The barista brought over two dishes of ice cream. Yeosang's was the same as yours. You had chosen a more modest amount of chocolate filling, but the sight of his treat made you reconsider your choice. He noticed your gaze and chuckled.

"You can always ask for more later," he said, twirling a spoonful of ice cream in your direction. "You know, for research."

You laugh, feeling the nervousness dissipate. As you both dig into your Homerun Balls, the conversation starts to flow more naturally. Yeosang tells you about his favorite childhood memories with ice cream, and you share stories of your first Ateez concert, the thrill of the lights and the music, and how you felt when you saw them live for the first time. His eyes light up as he listens, and you feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

The café's soft jazz music plays in the background, and the occasional clinking of spoons against bowls fills the air. You take a moment to appreciate the quiet, intimate setting. The world outside seems to melt away, leaving only the two of you in this cozy little bubble.

"So, tell me more about your favorite member," Yeosang says, his spoon hovering over his ice cream. You feel a blush creep up your neck as you realize he's referring to himself.

"Well, he's really sweet. And kind. And talented," you start, your voice growing more confident as you speak. Yeosang nods, his eyes never leaving yours, making you feel as if you were the only person in the room. "But it's more than that. It's how he looks at the crowd when he performs, like he sees every single person, really sees them. It's like he's singing just for me."

You pause. That sounded a bit…sasaengy. "B-But, y'know, thousands of people. He's not only singing for me! Just, like, a metaphor or something." You laugh nervously, hoping he didn't think you were too crazy.

Yeosang nods, his eyes still on yours. "I know what you mean. That's why we do what we do. To make everyone in the crowd feel seen." He smiles warmly. "But, it's nice to hear that you feel connected."

"Yeah." you chuckle a bit. "He's also cute. No, I mean, you're all cute. It's just--it's your voice, Yeosang. It's soothing, and when you dance, it's like watching poetry in motion." You blush deeper, realizing you've probably said too much. But Yeosang just smiles, looking genuinely touched by your words.

"Thank you," he says, his voice sincere. "That means a lot to me."

You nod, taking a bite of your ice cream to hide your blushing cheeks. The sweetness of the chocolate is a welcome distraction from the heat in your face. As you savor the taste, Yeosang watches you, his gaze curious.

"Did you wanna ask more questions?" you giggle. "You're staring at me as if you wanted to ask me something else."

Yeosang's cheeks tinge pink. "Well, I was wondering if you had any questions about, you know, the industry or anything."

"Not really…" you say, trying to play it cool despite the excitement bubbling inside you. "But if it's okay, I've always wondered…what's the most challenging part of being an idol?"

Yeosang pauses for a moment, considering your question. He takes a bite of his ice cream, and you can see his mind working behind those beautiful eyes. "Hmm," he says, "I guess it's the constant pressure to be perfect. To perform, to look good, to make everyone happy. It's a lot to handle sometimes."

You nod, feeling a pang of empathy. You had never thought of it that way before. You had always seen idols as these untouchable beings who lived glamorous lives, but here he was, opening up about the challenges that came with it.

"Yeah, I can imagine that must be really tough," you say, your voice gentle. Yeosang nods, his eyes searching yours as if looking for understanding. "But you guys are all so amazing at what you do. It's easy to forget that you're human too."

He looks down at his ice cream for a moment before looking up and smiling. "Thanks for that," he says, his eyes warm. "It's nice to be reminded every once in a while."

"Of course." You reply, your eyes never leaving his. "I mean, it's just… I've been a fan for so long, and I've seen how hard you all work."

He just…smiles, his eyes examining your features, looking you up and down. "I don't mean to throw us off-topic, but you're very beautiful."

Your heart stops, and your spoon clatters against your bowl. Did he just…? "Yeosang," you whisper, trying to keep your cool. "I-I'm just a fan. I'm not--"

He holds up a hand to stop you. "You're not just a fan to me right now," he says, his voice earnest. "You're a person I've been enjoying getting to know."

If you weren't so paranoid of him being weirded out by you, you would've jumped across the table and pounced on him. But you managed to keep your cool, mostly. You felt your cheeks burning up like a furnace as you looked away, trying to compose yourself. "Really?" you murmured, feeling the heat of his gaze.

"Yes, really," he said, his voice a gentle caress. "You have this…glow about you. It's hard to ignore."

"A-And--you think--I'm beautiful-?" You had to repeat it to believe it. You felt like you were going to pass out.

"I do," Yeosang said, his voice firm but still gentle. "You're really attractive."

"Oh my god," you exhaled softly. The noise sounded too much like a moan, but you were so blanked out to even notice. You felt your cheeks burning up and your heart racing faster than ever. Was this really happening? Yeosang thinks you're beautiful?

"Thanks," you murmur, your eyes flickering up to meet his before darting away again. The room felt so much warmer, the air thick with unspoken tension. You took a bite of your ice cream to distract yourself, the coldness soothing your burning cheeks. The chocolate filled your mouth, but the sweetness was lost in the rush of your thoughts.

He was still looking at you and you fought with everything in you not to jump across the table and pounce on him. "I don't know what to say," you admitted, your voice shaking.

"It's fine." He turned around, grabbing a bag that you didn't notice before. He was reaching for something but you couldn't tell what it was. "I know it's a lot to take in. But I just wanted to tell you. You seem like someone special." He finally pulled out a piece of paper. He slid it toward you. It was face down.

No way this was what you thought it was.

Yeosang slid the paper closer to you, and you took it with trembling fingers. You couldn't believe what was happening. You looked up at him, and his expression was earnest, his eyes searching yours. "What's this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't say anything. He only smiled. You flipped it around and read it. It was an NDA.

An NDA.

A literal Non-Disclosure Agreement.

You stared at it blankly, your jaw hung. Was he serious? Your eyes shot up to meet his, and his expression didn't waver. The corners of his mouth twitched with a hint of mischief.

"If you don't want to, you don't have t-"

"OF COURSE I ACCEPT!?" You squealed before you could stop yourself. Yeosang's grin grew wider, the mischief in his eyes glittering like stars. He leaned back in his seat, looking more relaxed than you had ever seen him. "But why me?" you managed to ask, trying to keep the excitement from your voice.

"Like I said: you're really fucking pretty. You sat here and treated me like a human and not like some sort of object. And at the fan meet I thought you were really pretty. Plus, your sense of humor is…surprising." Yeosang said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "But let's keep this between us, okay?" He nodded towards the NDA.

"Uh huh, yeah," you nod, already digging through your bag trying to find a pen. You found one and signed the NDA as fast as you possibly could, your heart racing. Yeosang watched you with amusement, his smile never leaving his face.

"W-What now? I-I've never signed one of these before-"

"You go home with me." Yeosang said, his voice still low. You stared at him, the words echoing in your ears. He couldn't be serious, could he?

"Yeosang. I can't express how excited I am right now." You whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. He nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He stands and grabs his bag, leaving money on the table and holding his hand out for you to grab.

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch, and allowed him to lead you out of the café into the cool evening air. The street outside was quieter than you had expected, with only a few people strolling by. You looked up at him, his height making you feel safe and protected. "Is this…are we really doing this?"

He nods and you wasted zero time hugging his arm, walking out with him as he guides you down the street. The cool night breeze brushing against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat coming from his side. "Yeah," he says, his voice low and calm. "This is happening."

You walk for a few minutes before Yeosang stops in front of a black sedan. The driver opens the door for you and you slip inside, Yeosang following closely. The car is plush and smells faintly of his cologne. You're pretty sure your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

As the car pulls away from the curb, Yeosang turns to you with a gentle smile. "I know this might seem weird," he says, "but I wanted to make sure you felt comfortable."

You nod, your heart racing a mile a minute. "I-I trust you," you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel. The NDA still felt like a weight in your pocket, a reminder of the surreal situation you've found yourself in.

Yeosang's smile grows a little wider, and he nods. "Good," he says, his eyes holding yours for a moment before looking away. You both sit in silence as the car drove back to his apartment. The anticipation is palpable, and your heart feels like it's going to explode. You've always dreamed of this moment, but you never thought it would be so…real.

When you both made it back to his apartment, he took his time with you. He allowed you to eat whatever you set your eyes on. You felt like a kid in a candy store, but with less sugar and more nervousness. Yeosang was a perfect host, making sure you felt comfortable and at ease. The apartment was sleek and modern, with a touch of personal taste that was unmistakably his. You noticed the little things—a book of poetry on the coffee table, a guitar in the corner of the living room, and a few stray polaroids that had escaped their frame and scattered across the floor.

While you were ransacking his kitchen, you heard him get up and walk in behind you, standing behind you and placing a hand on the counter. "Did you find what you wanted?" he asked, his voice warm and -- you were definitely staying the night.

You turned around, biting your lip, trying to hide your excitement. "I did, thanks." You said, trying to keep your voice steady. Yeosang's hand reached out to grab a water bottle from the fridge, his sleeve riding up slightly, revealing his toned forearm. You swallowed hard. "Do you want anything?"

He squints, opening the water bottle. You could tell he was fighting with himself. Whatever he wanted to say definitely wasn't family friendly. "You want me to be honest?" his eyes twinkling with mischief and you nod.

"You." Yeosang says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I want you."

SMUT BELOW THIS.

Your eyes widen and your cheeks burn even hotter. You couldn't believe what you just heard. Your heart was pounding so loudly you could hear it in your ears. "Y-You do?" you stuttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Why do you think I gave you the NDA?" Yeosang stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. The tension in the room grew thicker, the air crackling with a new kind of electricity. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts.

"Y-Yes," you finally managed to say, your voice barely a whisper. "But I thought we were just having ice cream." Which was a goddamn lie. In all honesty, you had been fantasizing about his hand son your bare skin since the second you walked into the cafe.

Yeosang leaned in closer, his breath tickling your neck. "We can still have ice cream," he murmured, his hand reaching for the fridge again, pulling out another pint. "But I thought maybe we could have it in a more…comfortable setting." He nodded towards his bedroom.

"Yeosang," you breathe out his name, your voice trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves. You hadn't anticipated this happening so soon, but here you are, standing in his kitchen with the promise of a night beyond your wildest dreams. He smiles, his eyes never leaving yours as he opens the freezer door. The cold air from inside sends a shiver down your spine, or was it just his proximity?

"Yeah?"

You couldn't stop yourself. You inhaled sharply and pulled him into a kiss before he could react, his body stiffening for a moment before melting into it. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with a passion that sent your senses reeling. It was everything you had ever dreamed of and more, his lips soft yet firm, his scent intoxicating. You felt like you could stay there forever, lost in his embrace.

He grabs the underside of your legs and lifted you up, sitting you on the countertop. Your heart races as he kisses you deeper, his hands moving up to cradle your face. The coolness of the marble countertop is a stark contrast to the heat that's building between the two of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling his heart thumping against your chest.

Your fingers grasped at his shirt, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss. His hands roamed up your back, sending shivers down your spine. This was it—you were kissing Yeosang, your ultimate bias. The reality was so overwhelming, you could feel your knees go weak. He must've felt it too, because he tightened his grip, holding you firmly against the counter.

He grabbed the hem of your skirt and slid it up, his hands brushing against your skin and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped into his mouth, your eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again, lost in the feeling of his touch. He broke the kiss, panting slightly, and looked into your eyes.

He wrapped your legs around his waist and picked you up, walking toward his bedroom. He kicked the door open and threw you on the bed. You squealed, surprised by his sudden action, but also thrilled. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp in the corner, casting shadows across the bed. You looked up at him, your heart racing, as he took off his t-shirt.

He slid your skirt down your legs, revealing your black lace underwear. You had picked it out with the hope that he would see it tonight, but now that the moment was here, you felt a rush of nerves. Yeosang leaned over you, his eyes dark with desire as he kissed along your jawline and down to your neck. His touch was gentle but firm, leaving you trembling and craving more.

He grabbed your tights and ripped them apart. You were going to say something, but his lips found yours again, and your protest turned into a moan of pleasure. His kiss was hungry, as if he had been starving for this moment. His hands slid up your thighs, his thumbs tracing the edge of your panties. You felt yourself growing wetter by the second, your body begging for more.

You pulled away, panting heavily. "W-Wait," you said, trying to get your bearings. Yeosang stopped, his eyes searching yours for any signs of hesitation. You took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm good," you assured him, your voice shaky. "I just…I need to tell you something."

"What is it, baby?" Oh, that pet name had you wet. You had to force your brain to remember what you had to say.

"I'm…I'm a virgin," you whispered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You had never talked about this with anyone before, let alone your idol.

"You are?" Yeosang's eyes searched yours, a hint of surprise in them. But instead of pulling away, his expression softened into something gentle, something reassuring. He took a step back, giving you space. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your nerves. "We can take this slow."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and excitement. The idea of being with him, of sharing this experience with your bias, was both thrilling and terrifying. "Thank you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yeosang leaned down, kissing you softly. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he began to explore your body. His fingers traced the curves of your hips, slipping beneath your panties to tease your sensitive skin. You gasped as his thumb circled your clit, his movements slow and deliberate. The pleasure was almost unbearable, building within you like a crescendo of desire.

"O-Oh my god," you moan, immediately grabbing his wrist and pushing it closer, your eyes rolling back into your head. He chuckled against your mouth, his other hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple. The sensation was so intense, you felt your legs tremble and tighten around his waist.

"You're so sensitive," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "It's so sexy." He kissed along your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just behind your ear.

He started moving his thumb faster, and the sensation was too much. You could feel an orgasm building deep within you, your body tightening around him. "Yeosang," you gasped out his name, your nails digging into his skin. He seemed to understand what you needed, his touch growing more insistent.

He kissed down your body, leaving a trail of fire along your collarbone and between your breasts. You arched your back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his mouth found your nipple. His tongue flicked and teased the sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. Your legs tightened around his waist, urging him closer as you felt yourself getting wetter.

He then kissed down your stomach, moving even further until his mouth replaced his thumb. You gasped as he licked and sucked at your clit, the sensation so intense that you thought you might shatter. Your body was responding to him like a finely tuned instrument, each stroke of his tongue bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

He held your legs apart, his eyes meeting yours, watching for any sign of discomfort. You bit your lip, the pleasure building until it was all you could focus on. And then it crashed over you, your body shuddering as you climaxed. Yeosang didn't stop, though, continuing to flick and suck on your clit until you were writhing beneath him, begging for mercy. He made sure your legs were open, pushing his face deeper.

"Y-Yeo-Yeosang!" You grabbed a handful of his hair, feeling a finger prodding at your entrance. The sensation was too much, and your body clenched around it. "O-Oh my god," you whimpered, your voice tight with pleasure. His eyes flicked up to yours, his mouth curling into a smug smile before he added a second finger, stretching you gently. You felt yourself getting wetter, the slickness of your arousal making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

"F-Fuck-" Not a single thought was running through your head. You had lost all coherence as Yeosang's tongue swirled around your clit and his fingers worked their magic inside you. It was as if your brain had melted away, leaving only pure, unadulterated pleasure in its wake. His eyes remained on yours, watching as you reached new heights, savoring every twitch and gasp that passed your lips.

You felt something bubbling in your stomach and you sat up, trying to form words. "Yeosang," you breathed. "I-I'm--"

You squealed and fell back, a large amount of liquid spilled out of you, your thighs instinctively closing around his head. He didn't stop. Instead, he let you squirt, fingering you even harder, his tongue pressing firmly against your clit as he lapped up the juices that were flowing like a river.

"O-Oh my fucking-" You couldn't even finish your sentence as Yeosang's mouth worked its magic, your body pulsing around his fingers.

He looked up at you, his eyes hooded with lust as you came again, even harder than before. He slowly pulled back, licking his lips as if savoring the taste of you. "You taste amazing," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He pulls away, spreading your legs again and undoing his belt with shaky hands. You can see the outline of his erection through his pants, and you realize that you're not the only one affected by this. Yeosang's breathing is heavy, and his eyes are filled with a hunger that sends a thrill through your body.

"I'll be as gentle as can be, princess," he whispers, pulling his jeans off and kicking them aside. He pushed his boxers down, his cock springing free. You felt a brief moment of terror—it was bigger than you had ever seen. But his gentle smile and the tenderness in his eyes reassured you. He climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. You nod, feeling more ready than you ever have been for this moment. He kissed you again, his hand moving to position himself at your entrance. You feel the tip of him push against you, and you tense up, ready for the pain.

"Relax, baby." he pushed the tip inside and you grabbed his wrist once again, your nails digging into his skin. You felt a sharp pain, but he was right, it was only a pinch. He pushed in slowly, letting your body adjust to his size. You could feel him stretching you, filling you up. His eyes never left yours, his expression one of pure concentration and concern.

"Yeosang," you ran your fingers through his hair, trying to distract yourself from the pressure building inside of you. His eyes searched yours for any signs of discomfort, his own desire barely restrained. He pushed in further, and you gasped as you felt yourself stretching around him. The pain was intense but mixed with the overwhelming need for more.

"You're doing so good for me," he whispers, his voice thick with need as he continues to push inside you. You bite your lip, trying to hold back a moan as your body adjusts to the new sensation. Finally, with one final push, he's all the way in, filling you completely.

He began thrusting, slow and steady, watching you intently as he did. You felt your body stretching to accommodate him, and the pain slowly began to recede, replaced by a deep, all-consuming pleasure. Each movement sent waves crashing through you, and you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your body eager to take all of him in.

You moaned his name, the sound echoing in the quiet room, and he responded by kissing you harder, his hips moving faster. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper with each thrust. You felt your muscles tightening around him, the tension building to an unbearable level.

You held onto him as tightly as you possibly could, your nails digging into his back as he pushed into you, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Yeosang's rhythm grew faster, his breathing more ragged, and you could feel his muscles tense with effort. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, calling you "baby" and "princess" in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

"You're so pretty, so tight," Yeosang murmured, his voice strained as he picked up the pace, his hips slapping against yours. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge again, your walls clenching around him. The pressure built and built until you couldn't take it anymore.

"I-I'm gonna cum again-" you cry out, refusing to let go of him. His face was shoved into your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he moaned, his thrusts growing more erratic. He kissed up your neck, finding your mouth again, his tongue slipping inside in a delicate dance with yours.

The closer you both got, the more passionate it felt, more loving than anything. Yeosang's thrusts grew stronger, and your body responded with a symphony of pleasure. You could feel his muscles tensing and his breaths getting shorter as he neared his climax. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, words of reassurance and passion that only added fuel to the fire burning between you.

"O-Oh my god, I love you," It slipped out. You didn't even notice that you said it. But his eyes widened, and he stopped for a moment, his cock still deep inside you. He stared at you for a second before kissing you again, his tongue pushing past your lips and exploring your mouth like it was a treasure.

"I love you too, baby." He whispered back, and your heart stopped. Did he just say that?

You felt tears prickling in your eyes as he started thrusting again, pushing you closer and closer. Yeosang's eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze only increasing as he felt your love. His movements grew more urgent, his breathing ragged as he neared his peak.

And finally, you came, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. Yeosang groaned into your mouth, his own climax following closely behind, filling you up in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. He held you tightly, his body shaking with the force of his release, his cock pulsing within you.

Neither of you let go. You both breathed heavily into each other's mouths, your hearts beating so loudly they could have drowned out the world outside. The room was a cocoon of heat and love, a space where only the two of you existed.

"You love me…?" you whispered, voice cracking. The words felt alien on your tongue, yet filled you with a warmth that was as surprising as it was overwhelming.

"I mean," he pants. "You said it first and I… yeah." He kisses you again, softer this time. "I've never felt this way about a fan before." His admission sends your heart soaring, and you realize you've been holding your breath.

"…So…what--what are…what is this-?" You stuttered, trying to make sense of his words. Your heart felt like it was going to explode from your chest.

Yeosang pulled out of you gently, his eyes still locked on yours. "This is us, baby," he murmured, stroking your cheek. "We're more than just a fan and an idol now."

[polarisjisung]

ꨄ I'M JEALOUS AND I'M GOING CRAZY

BACKSTAGE WITH IDOL BF JISUNG

pairings: park jisung x fem! idol reader genre: fluff wc: 0.9k warnings: jealousy (it's cute tho I promise!) + they makeout notes : found this hidden away in the drafts guys.. no idea if it's proofread 🧍‍♀️| LIBRARY

EDIT!! if you saw the drama mentioned in the notes... no you didn't I DO NOT SUPPORT yk who's behaviour and COMPLETELY forgot to take it out before posting, im very sorry gang 🙏

Jisung is confused. Beyond it in fact.

"Just tell me what it is," his voice echoes, earning a few too many unwanted stares as he runs down the hall.

Oh, the things he does for you

You're not letting up, and he's been trailing after you ever since you decided that running through the multiple empty dressing rooms backstage was a good idea, for whatever reason.

Well, you weren't really running, more so speed walking away from him, weaving in and out of hallways and doors.

Had it not been for your practically fluorescent outfit from the stage you'd just performed, he'd barely have been able to catch sight of you bolting away from him in the first place.

Jisung's certain you'd never been this fast before, practically out of breath from following after you.

Combined with the fatigue from his performance a few minutes ago and trailing after you like a lost puppy, Jisung begins to grow tired

Again he's not entirely sure why you're doing it, or what you're doing really, but if it has anything to do with the small pout on your lips and the slightly puffed out cheeks you wear then maybe Jisung has a few ideas

it doesn't take a genius to figure out something has you upset, not upset in a heartbroken way, or else Jisung would have noticed any tears threatening to spill from your eyes, but more in a way that somethings bothering you.

Though it doesn't matter much to Jisung just how upset you are, clearly not very, all that does matter is that you are.

And usually Jisung was an expert at reading you, knowing what was wrong like some psychic mind reader with a purple globe in his palms with one single glance at you— if you'd just look at him— which you hadn't since the good luck kiss he'd planted on your cheek before you went up on stage exactly an hour ago.

When he stepped off stage today, ready to pull you into his arms and let himself bask in the sweetness of your praise, telling him how well he did on stage, you weren't there and Jisung's big gummy smile dropped at the sight of you, straight faced lying across the couch in his dressing room instead.

Honestly speaking, he had no idea what could have possibly gone wrong in the last hour, but he was certainly determined to find out.

"You guys did great out there" you smiled as the group of 7 piled into the room, genuine but small, congratulating all of his members, as you usually did, only you didn't spend any time gushing over him.

Safe to say your boyfriend had noticed, and now, as you find yourself reaching a dead end with no escape, you know you're going to have to come face to face with Jisung, and the ugly green feeling bubbling inside of you

His arms hang low at your waist when he finally catches you in the middle of your dressing room, a slight smirk across his lips at the victory of stopping you from running away.

"Look at me baby" his two fingers hold your chin to guide your head so it would tilt upwards and face him.

"What's up?"

You shake your head, gaze darting left and right to avoid his eyes. Jisung chuckles to himself

"Tell me what's wrong, come on, please?" he follows your eyes as they change direction, shifting so he's the only thing in your line of sight.

You sigh, crossing your arms, lips protruding outwards, "You'll laugh, Sung."

Gosh, Jisung just wants to smash his lips against yours— but there are bigger problems at hand– like his awfully pouty girlfriend standing sulking in front of him.

"You know I'll never laugh at you," he says, soft and kind. You hate that it makes the ugly feeling inside of you grow stronger.

Why did he have to be so damn sweet?

"Well, uh-" you hesitate "it's nothing, I was just being silly Sung" you nod your head, as if to convince yourself but Jisung pulls you back before you can even attempt to walk away

"If it made you upset its not silly okay, now tell me, what's got my girl like this hmm?"

"Next time you're on stage," you sigh, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. "Roll your sleeves down." Your eyes meet the floor at the request, Jisung staring down at his arms

"That's it?" he holds back a laugh, though his lips can't help but curve upwards, and his eyes fill with adoration at the sight of you so shy.

"Well I don't exactly want everyone staring at my boyfriend and his pretty arms, you're already perfect as it is" you protest, tone completely sincere "you don't need to be perfect for anyone but me" you huff, crossing your arms as you decide you've said enough.

Apparently not.

"You should've heard the girls backstage checking you out every time your muscles flexed." Your eyes roll, and Jisung can't help but find it cute, the disgusted scrunch of your nose.

He extends his forearm out to you, smiling.

"These arms are all for you, okay? so you can roll my sleeves down just as far as you'd like."

"Don't have to ask me twice," you mutter under your breath, just loud enough that he hears, tugging at the material that rested mid way up his arm.

"Yeah?" he chuckles again, "well, next time, tell the girls backstage too, " he smiles. "I'm all yours"

You hum, you could do one better, "let's show them instead."

You practically eating his lips off in the music bank hallway was not part of Jisung's agenda tonight, but he can't help the feeling of content that washes over him as you roughly move your lips over his, fingers interlaced with his, putting on an absolute show for everyone who'd walk past. With his sleeves rolled all the way down, of course.

Couldn't put too much of a show on now, could you?

God Jisung loves when you get all jealous over him

tags: @yizhrt @suzayaaa @nanawrlds @sinisxtea @dearlyminhyung @flaminghotyourmom @jisworlds @jenobubbles @nctdreamchaser @lotties-readings @mystverse @chenlezip @blondemrk @17ericas

[jjenthusee]

Enthusiasm

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Sometimes the most intimidating can be the most tender.

A/N: HAPPYYY NEW YEAR i give u soft Jason 😌 i’ve been on and off (so sorry about that) but im excited to see what stories will be posted to this account this upcoming year :D so much has happened to end December, but i powered through and i wanted to finish something that was sitting in my drafts. so please ENJOY :) comment if you’re comfortable, reblog if you like the story, and have some flowers 💐

Tags: Fluff, hurt/comfort, i just wanna kiss his beautiful face fr, reader and jason are in competition of who can out fluff the other

Word Count: 2.5k

previous work linked here

The smell was strong.

Gunpowder and soaked clothes. Jason felt like a wet dog coming home with his tail between his legs. Holding onto the door frames, trying to not bump into the walls.

He had hoped the rain would have washed away most of the blood and burnt smell that radiated from his skin, but no matter how much he tried to rub it off, it was still there. Lingering after his every step, after every breath he took.

Each step into your apartment felt like he was contaminating more of the air, that he was diminishing the warmth you exuded so effortlessly.

His fingertips burned as he tried to grab a dry shirt and some sweats to change into, but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

His mind raced and raced as he couldn’t focus enough to grab a single hanger in the closet. He already felt like he was standing underneath a beacon of light from the single bulb illuminating the entire closet and he couldn’t afford to wake you up now, you might smell him and you would find him disgusting until he would beg and beg that he could strip all the smell away.

Jason felt dizzy at the thought of you leaving. He had imagined many scenarios, all kinds of ways you would be gone. Tortured, kidnapped, or you simply walking out the door as he watched because you didn’t want to love him anymore.

It sickened him. A kind of bile that stuck to his throat when he tortured himself with the thought of you leaving him. He rubbed his face, feeling his calloused hands scratch against his skin as he tried to rub more of the smell away.

He could imagine the sound of your voice, screaming his name in fear or even quietly fading as you faded from his arms.

Sometimes the hallucinations felt so real, like you actually left until he found you at home. Living your life, perfectly fine.

“—on. Jason.”

He instinctively grabbed the knife from his utility belt, so quickly and efficiently that it felt like breathing for Jason.

He was still dizzy, but parts of your face were slowly focusing through his lashes, readjusting until your entire face was clear in his vision. He saw your wide eyes, opened because of the suddenness of him aiming a knife to your neck, but what made him feel even more sick to his stomach was the worried look on your face despite the survival instinct overpowering his brain.

It screamed how much you cared about him. The same man that pointed a blade at you.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Jason, it’s me. I’m right here.” You stood still. Watching the intense adrenaline rush from Jason. It had been a while since you’ve seen him escalate this badly.

“No, no. I‘m—you’re not real.” He pleaded, talking more to himself than at you.

“You’re home. You’re back home.” You tried to reach out with your words, giving him something to metaphorically grab onto.

“Please go away.”

Your heart pinched at his broken words.

“Everything is okay. I’m okay. I am right here.” You repeated.

As adamant as Jason was about stopping his hallucination, he couldn’t raise his voice. He was quietly whispering his pleas as you stood at arms length, confusing his reality and mental images. You didn’t waver to call out to him because he felt more wary of you than you did of him.

The blade he held to you was something he hadn’t done before and as frightened as you were in that moment, you stayed calm. Not for yourself, but from how much he shook and his disheveled appearance, Jason was just scared.

You continued to speak to him, giving him tender reassurances, explaining and truthfully telling him how safe he was and how he could relax from the anxiety plaguing him.

Jason’s eyes were relaxing as he listened to your voice, his muscles were loosening his grip from the blade the more in tune he felt with reality, and he suddenly felt all the exhaustion weigh on him. His knife felt so heavy. Every second he was growing more tired as he realized he was safe enough to finally let it go, so he threw it to the side.

The blade bounced to the floor, reflecting and shining the light from the closet back into the dark bedroom.

You took a deep breath watching the blade leave Jason’s hand, then you looked back to him, seeing his soaked hair stick to his face. His armor caked with dirt and blood blending into the fabric.

As much as you wanted to call Alfred, Jason was in no condition to see another person right now.

As you analyzed him, you saw, physically, how much the night had roughed him up. Jason’s hands were limp at his side, his head hung to your feet as you stepped closer to him, testing how close he was willing to let you get.

“Jay? You’re still in your armor, we need to get you out of your soaked clothes.” You gently spoke.

He said nothing to you, focusing on pacing his breaths in a way that didn’t cause him more anxiety. He kept his eyes closed.

“Do you need my help? I can help, but if you want to do it yourself—“

He grabbed one of your fingers, his frozen hand stinging your warm one that absorbed the heat from your blankets not too long ago. His large hand held onto your singular finger, feeling your smooth skin, trying to sink into the soothing feeling of physical touch.

You patiently waited, letting him go at his own pace to grasp that he was safe enough to ask for this much from you.

“I’m glad you made it home.” You spoke. Feeling Jason’s skin trace your knuckles and veins in your hand like he was memorizing and analyzing the living being he cared so much for.

As he continued his small rubs, he eased his touch to a feather light hover over your arm. Feeling up to press his thumb underneath the fabric of your shirt sleeve, mentally talking to himself about the feel of the fabric and its color.

You let him ground himself, taking note of how still you kept your body. All control was in Jason’s hands like a puppeteer over your entire self. He wanted to scream out to himself that he was selfishly touching you, but he was walking a very thin line of losing his mind any second and the feel of you was keeping him focused on something other than his racing head.

He was so tired that he grasp his hand onto your shoulder to gently pull you toward him, resting his head into your hair, smelling how familiar you were.

He thought you smelt so much better than the gunpowder and burning flesh from his body.

He rested his hand behind your back, slowly feeling up to cusp behind your neck, letting his fingers settle onto your pulse. Counting the thumps and feeling the repeated rhythm he memorized numerous times to fall asleep to.

Jason brought you in closer, matching his breaths to yours because if he felt like passing out, he reasoned to himself that it should be completely because he wanted to be one with you.

You settled your forehead onto his neck, taking a deep breath into his skin.

Jason flinched, feeling his skin tingle to your warm breath exhaling to his hair. He hummed before he was about to pull away from you, remembering his stench.

“I’m sorry, I…stink.” Jason apologized, fighting against himself to release you, but also grip you harder.

You pulled him back to you by his neck and arm, leaning his damp hair onto your head.

“You don’t need to apologize. Besides, I love your smell. I think I stink ‘cause I haven’t showered ever since I got back from work.” You lazily smiled up at Jason, appreciating that he was talking to you.

“You don’t smell.” He emphasized, whispering his sincerity into the small space between your bodies.

“I was sweating a lot today, so we can be stinky together if that’s what you’re worried about.” You comforted him, reaching up to cusp his cheeks. Soothing the redness on his face from his harsh rubs. “We can wash up together if you want to. It’s also okay if you want to do it by yourself. I’m always open to what you tell me, no matter what I’ll be right here until you let me know.”

Jason felt the ease in his shoulders, the voice in his head calming. It wasn’t completely silent, but it was a little quieter when you were speaking so gently to him.

“Can we wash up together?” He asked into your palm, rubbing his nose into your warm hand.

“Of course we can. I can get the water ready while you get out of your gear.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed into your touch.

“I won’t make the water too hot. I also got a new shampoo yesterday and I haven’t used it yet, so we can smell like eucalyptus together.” You could feel Jason’s frozen nose on your hands. “Hon, you’re freezing.”

Your worries were unanswered, leaving you to only furrow your brow at the man in front of you. Jason could only look up from your hands, clearly having nothing to say, but patiently waiting for you to give in to his tender gaze.

He knew you would give in, you always did and he wanted to use it to his advantage to not speak about his night.

He removed his gloves and you heard the slightly damp fabric being pulled from his fingers. With free hands, Jason reached out to rub off the furrowed look on your face, in attempt to cover his tired appearance.

“You’re lucky I’m going to be nice about this. I was about one call away to summoning Alfred or I would’ve drove your motorcycle all the way there if I had to.”

Jason chuckled as he kept kneading the line between your eyebrows. Listening to your stubborn worries that felt like music to his ears as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

“Threatening me now?” Jason asked. Amused, but willing to listen to your voice continuously. The way his voice teased you made your heart tingle, enough to distract you for a moment to look at the way his hair fell onto his face. His features were carved by wavy hair, elegantly placed hair strands that made you waver between frustrated and enamored, but unable to stop your heartfelt lecture.

“Maybe you can distract me, but Alfred is too experienced to even consider hesitating with you.” You tried to go move your eyebrows in defiance against Jason’s thumb, not backing down just yet. “I was about to haul you on my shoulders and dump you onto the back of your motorcycle. I didn’t go through all those lessons with you to not use it against you.“

“I knew it, you were always too excited to take it out for a drive. Can’t believe my own student was actually plotting against me all along.” Jason held onto your face, shaking his head as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

“It’s called “enthusiasm,” Jason.” You started to feel for the zippers of his jacket, moving your fingers against the leather as you slowly took it off his shoulders, carefully watching his body language to ensure you weren’t making him uncomfortable.

“Enthusiasm.” Jason repeated. In the same tone you always swooned at, hearing the familiar low roughness in his voice that was only reserved for you. A dangerous combo as he touched your face so affectionately, you could feel your face heat in the dim closet light. “I know all about enthusiasm.”

He leaned in to slightly peck your bottom lip, feeling his own lips barely touch yours. He felt how dry his lips were, but yours were soft enough to drown out his other worries and insecurities. Enough to feel the intimacy, but not enough to solidify something more.

You smiled, clearly won over by Jason’s charm. In one swoop you pulled the jacket off Jason, leaving him in his usual patrol skintight top with his emblem reflecting what little light was in the room.

You couldn’t imagine the fear that red bat symbol brought to the bad people lingering at night, realizing the bad shit they brought on themselves because that emblem was the last thing they would remember.

But you always liked what was beneath it, what it tried to protect. The part of Jason that he relentlessly tried to hide and you had the patience to slowly unveil every bit of it.

“Save that enthusiasm because we might not be able to wash up if you kiss me one more time.” You rubbed your hands into the back of his neck, feeling the tense muscles and wanting to help him relax for a bit with some warm water and rubbing some shampoo into his hair to hopefully allow him to sleep a little tonight. “Clean your gear in the morning, I wanna warm up with a shower and you can help me dry my hair.”

“Hm.” Jason agreed as he kept rubbing your lips with his thumb. You felt accomplished as you felt his hands slowly warming from your physical touch.

“I’ll get us some fresh towels. Grab the new shampoo after you remove your gear.” You released yourself from Jason and made your way to the bathroom. “It should be in the bag by the bed. I forgot to take it out.”

With some soreness, Jason removed his utility belt and picked up the thrown knife to safely secure it back in its place. He felt the weight in his eyelids as he made his way to the bathroom, hearing the water turn on.

When he pushed the door open silently, he watched the way you moved. Adjusting the heat of the water, placing freshly dried towels on the counter, and the way you were so perfectly domestic.

Jason didn’t want to disturb you, soothing himself to the sight of you after he exhausted himself from the repeated torture his mind put himself through.

When you looked back, the look you gave him almost made him melt to the tile floor. That it was unreal he was allowed this.

You pulled him into the bathroom, much like the other ways you introduced him to various simplicities he started to enjoy in his life.

He didn’t want to admit it to you, in case you would be offended, but he cherished how mundane you were. That he could feel as close to ordinary next to you. That the scars that littered him weren’t going to drive you away.

Piece by piece, clothing were removed from the two of you. It was comfortable to bare yourself, to share this intimate experience of bathing together. Washing and holding each other under warm water. Massaging and lathering soap.

The steam was filling the bathroom, slight humidity relaxing your skin and your shared scent radiating off each other.

The night was turning into dawn, but you dried each others hair. You gently laid into the bed to slowly rub at Jason’s head, easing him and yourself into another slumber.

[illbegottenfaith]

walking away with your kiss on my cheek...

your relationship with theo starts to sour as you begin to suspect him of keeping secrets from you (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - first part of a two-shot I've written! Ngl this thing has gone through wayyy too many drafts and revisions so it’s barely an u healthy relationship, more like unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I have a couple of slightly more intense takes on the trope lined up as well :)

tropes/warnings - mildly (veryyy mildly) toxic/unhealthy relationship descriptions, established relationship, mentions of infidelity, miscommunication, angst

word count - 1.9k

When it came to love languages, Theodore Nott’s was distance. Many of his past relationships had failed once he'd deemed them too suffocating. Nobody had suited him quite like you did. The two of you had somehow stumbled into a mutual understanding of what you wanted out of a relationship. Some considered what you shared too casual to be considered a relationship. You had your separate schedules and commitments, and in your downtime, you kept one another company.

But it worked for the two of you. The best relationships are built between people on the same page, and your perfectly aligned perspectives made the little time you spent together that much sweeter. In fact, things had been going along swimmingly until Katherine entered the picture.

She, or at least the idea of her, entered your life one foggy morning. You were dead on your feet. The aconite you had been tending to as part of your Herbology project demanded your every waking moment outside of your classes. You were just about to fall asleep into your soft-looking, pillowy scrambled eggs when Ivy half-yelled into your ear, as she was prone to doing.

"Didn't know Theo got a new girlfriend!"

Your head snapped up and you groaned. Okay, maybe she wasn't yelling as much as everything sounded ten times louder with that throbbing behind your right temple. You blinked blearily at your friend.

"Huh?"

"Someone's been spending an awful lot of time with Katherine."

It took you a moment to register that you had no idea who Ivy was talking about.

"Katherine Sawyer," she repeated. "Theo's been getting pretty cosy with her, hasn't he?"

Something must have shown on your face, because she immediately dropped the suggestive lilt to her voice.

"I mean - I'm only kidding. It's just that I saw them in the library again last night for, like, the third time this week. I thought you knew." She peered closer at your dark eye bags. "Damn. Are you getting any sleep?"

You shook yourself out of the shock and gave a small smile. "Of course I knew," you lied. If being with Theo had taught you anything, it was how to lie convincingly. "I'm exhausted, that's all."

"Yeah, you look it," Ivy agreed sympathetically. "But really, I was kidding. It's not like he'd do anything. Not Theo."

"Right." You smoothly changed the subject. "So how's your project coming along?"

Still, it bothered you for the rest of the day. Why hadn't he told you about Katherine? He knew you weren't the jealous type, especially when it came to perfectly innocent interactions with the opposite sex. Unless there was a reason for him to keep it from you. You had thought that neither of you was the type to keep secrets from the other, but maybe you had thought wrong. And if he hadn't told you about Katherine, well, what else was he not telling you about?

You dismissed the thought. You were too sleep-deprived for this. It just wasn't like him. Theo would never pursue another girl, not while he already had one on his arm.

Right?

These thoughts were still circulating in your head when you found him reading in the Slytherin common room that evening. You approached him as you always did, but something about what Ivy had said that morning made you hesitate. He didn't look up from his well-worn copy of The Divine Comedy in the original Italian until he felt you sink into the couch beside him. He gave you a strange look before pulling you into his lap, nestling his head in the crook of your neck, the way the two of you usually curled up together when one of you was reading.

"Don't be going shy on me now," he teased lightly. You shushed him, tapping the paperback. As you settled your head on his shoulder, he glanced at your face. "You look tired," he noted quietly. You pulled a face.

"Who knew aconite could be such a bitch?"

Theo turned the page. "I knew. I'd say I told you so, but - ow."

You had sharply tugged at the short hairs at the nape of his neck as a warning. You laughed softly as you ran a soothing thumb over the mildly irritated skin, kissing it better. It was moments like these that made it difficult to harbor any sort of suspicion or resentment towards your boyfriend. As moody and mysterious as he liked to come off, to you he was an open book.

But he still hadn't told you about Katherine.

A few weeks later, Theo and a few others were about to leave for a two-week cultural exchange trip to Durmstrang's. Ivy had dragged you down to the Great Hall where everyone was saying their goodbyes, before disappearing into the crowd in search of Ivan.

Somewhat reluctantly, you walked up to your own boyfriend. Between his trip preparations and your Herbology project, the two of you hadn’t had a minute together for the past week and a half, a new record, even for a relationship as casual as yours.

“Got everything?”

Theo nodded. In his soft, fitted navy blue sweatshirt pushed halfway up his forearms, he looked effortlessly put together. You weren’t scruffy yourself, either. That was why you had any kind of relationship at all, wasn’t it? The two of you made an attractive couple, at least when you acted like one.

You looked over at Ivy, whose boyfriend was humoring a much sappier farewell than yours and Theo's. Scratch that, Ivan lived for Ivy's oddities and eccentricities. Right now, Ivy was kicking a fuss over a fortnight being simply too long of a time to be apart while Ivan promised to call every single night. Occasionally, you had wondered what it would feel like to be in a relationship like theirs, where two weeks apart would be nothing short of agony rather than routine.

As you turned back, you noticed Theo had been following your gaze. He cleared his throat delicately.

"So...two weeks."

"Mhm." You weren't the type of couple to explicitly express affection, especially of the vulnerable kind. You'd miss him, of course, even if you didn't say it. Would he miss you? You shook your head internally. No, you decided, you wouldn't ask. You'd only seem clingy and that wasn't the kind of couple you were. "Be good, have fun."

He adjusted the strap of his duffle bag. You fixed the collar of his jacket. You wondered if he'd tell you about Katherine before he left. From somewhere else in the Great Hall, one of his friends called him over. He pressed a final chaste kiss to your cheek. You watched him walk away with a hollow sort of feeling in your stomach. Merlin forbid you express any kind of attachment to your boyfriend.

He glanced back at you one last time, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, and just like that, he was gone.

Gone.

He didn't say a word about Katherine.

As the two weeks crawled by achingly slow, you tried to convince yourself that you didn't feel the lack of Theo. You had gone longer without talking to him. Hell, before you started dating, you'd only occasionally meet through mutual friends.

But you had never spent time apart feeling this acrid bitterness towards him.

Unbeknownst to you, your friends had picked up on your frutration, especially in the way you had thrown yourself into your work with renewed vigour, doing your best to keep conversations from straying to topics related to Theo.

"I'm going to the owlery to check for letters from Ivan," Ivy was saying one evening, pulling a woollen hat onto her head. "Wanna come with?"

You barely spared her a glance, writing carefully. "Can't. I have this essay to finish."

Ivy deflated visibly. "Don't you want to see if you have anything from Theo?”

You shrugged. You couldn’t be disappointed if you didn’t expect anything.

“Have you heard from him at all?” Ivy pressed.

You gave her a warning look. “Ivy. Stay out of it.”

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t you call him? I'm sure he misses you."

You laughed derisively, nearly stabbing a hole in the parchment. You might have done that any other time, but you were too mad about his imaginary affair with Katherine.

“Miss me? Theo doesn’t miss me.”

“How can you be so sure? You don’t know what he’s-“

“Because if he missed me,” you finally snapped, "he’d call. Or send me an owl. But he hasn't, alright? He hasn't called and I haven't gone to the owlery because no one's missing anybody. He's doing perfectly fine without me, just as I'm doing perfectly fine without him."

No one's missing anybody.

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You stubbornly watched Ivy turn blurrier and blurrier as you failed to blink them back. Your gaze landed on your essay, and the spots where your tears had caused the ink to run. Your essay was ruined.

You pressed a trembling hand to your eyes as you finally caved in, a pair of warm, comforting hands almost immediately coming to rest on your shaking shoulders. As miserable as you had been, you hadn't acknowledged the pain, let alone how it was eating away at you. Once you started crying, it was as though you didn't know how to stop.

“Why won’t he call, Ivy?” you choked out. "Doesn't he think about me?"

"Of course he does," Ivy soothed. "He's probably just insanely busy."

You sniffled. "How busy can a person be? One phone call, one letter, anything - is that really too much to ask?"

Ivy hesitated. The silence stretched out between you like the confirmation of a truth neither of you wanted to admit. She said it anyway.

“Maybe he thinks you don’t need that from him."

You laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Well, he got that part right.”

You sounded ridiculous even to your own ears. It was a testament to your friendship that Ivy didn’t try to argue with you. She gave your shoulder one last squeeze before standing, her footsteps soft as she made her way to the door. “I’m going to the owlery,” she said, lingering for a moment. “If there’s anything for you -"

"- burn it."

" - I’ll bring it back.”

You focused on the ruined essay in front of you. Messy smudges had formed where your tears had fallen. It was beyond repair, much like the knot in your chest that no amount of rationalising seemed to untangle.

As the door closed behind Ivy, an unbearable silence descended upon your dorm. You pressed your hands against your temples, willing yourself to stop thinking about him, about how easy it seemed for Theo to carry on without you. Maybe that was the worst part—the inescapable realisation that you weren’t half as essential to him as he was to you.

You stared at the blurred words on the parchment, feeling the ache settle deeper into your chest. There was no scintillating revelation, no blinding eureka moment. Just the quiet, gnawing thought that maybe this was all you’d ever be to him—an afterthought.

And maybe, you thought bitterly, crumpling your essay, you deserved it for letting yourself believe otherwise.

Part 2