#and it kind of makes a bit more sense for why he cut everyone off and isolated himself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosierin · 18 days ago

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not so easy | atsumu miya

synopsis; atsumu didn’t mean to spiral. but jealousy hits different when the girl you’re kinda-maybe-sorta in love with starts laughing at someone else’s jokes. now the apartment’s tense, the silence is loud, and his pride is doing everything it can to keep him from saying what he actually means.

(aka: i miss you. i’m sorry. i don’t know how to do this—but I want to.)

disclaimer; this fic will bounce between atsumu and (y/n)'s pov!

a/n; dont worry this aint super angsty, just a bit more introspective than what i usually write. ive weaved in a soft suna moment and some light-hearted bro talk :p

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

Atsumu Miya rarely got jealous.

Not because he’d never been given reason to—but because, in his eyes, he was the reason.

He had the looks. The charm. The talent. A fast mouth to back it all up and the skill to make sure it never sounded hollow. He knew what he brought to the table, and he brought it loudly. With flair. With confidence. With certainty.

Even when it came to Osamu—his twin, his mirror, the one everyone always loved in a quieter, steadier way—it had never been envy. No, with Osamu, it was rivalry. Pure and simple. The kind that lit a fire under his skin and pushed him forward. Faster, stronger, better. It made him hungry, sure—but not bitter. Never bitter.

That wasn’t jealousy. That was drive.

But (y/n)?

(Y/n) was different.

The only person who’d ever made something ugly twist in his chest and settle there like it belonged.

And it wasn’t even that she did anything. That was the kicker. She just was.

Sweet smiles, soft hands, warm eyes. Always so patient with him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Always seeing through the noise, the flash, the jokes—cutting clean through to the part of him he didn’t know how to talk about. She had this way about her—like she didn’t just look at people, she read them.

And for someone like Atsumu, who’d always been so loud about who he was… it was equal parts thrilling and terrifying to be understood so quietly.

She got under his skin without trying. Without even knowing.

And maybe that was why the first time he’d ever truly felt jealous, it had come out of nowhere. Like a sucker punch. No warning. Just a quiet ache and the unmistakable sense that something was his, and someone else was about to take it.

He remembered the moment vividly.

It was stupid, honestly.

They were just picking her up from class.

The three of them had done it a dozen times—Atsumu, Osamu, and Suna strolling across campus like they owned it, waiting outside the writing building for her to appear like clockwork.

It was routine. Familiar. A comfort.

But not today.

The simple reason being? She wasn’t alone when she walked out.

Atsumu noticed before anyone else, mid-conversation with Suna about something most likely irrelevant. His voice trailed off when his eyes locked on her. She was standing next to a guy. Tall. Kinda clean-cut in a “tries but not too hard” sort of way. He had rings on his fingers, a journal tucked into one arm, and the relaxed confidence that rubbed Atsumu the wrong way instantaneously.

They were talking. Close. Closer than necessary.

His smile was easy, practiced. And worse—(y/n) was smiling back, her laughter ringing through the campus.

It wasn't just a polite chuckle, either. Not just a soft smile. She was laughing. Head tilted slightly, eyes crinkled, the way she only did when something genuinely caught her off guard.

Atsumu’s steps faltered.

Suna glanced sideways. “You good?”

“Huh?” Atsumu blinked, covering it up with a grin. “Yeah. Peachy.”

But he wasn’t. Not when he could already hear it coming—like a freight train on a collision course with his mood.

“Don’t forget to send me those notes, sweetheart.”

Atsumu stopped dead.

His breath hitched.

Did he…?

Osamu made a noise. Suna raised a brow. Nobody said it, but they all felt the shift in the air.

“Did I hear that right?” Atsumu started, his voice cracking somewhere between disbelief and irritation.

“Uh-huh,” Suna said flatly.

“Who does he think he is?” Atsumu muttered, voice dropping into something lower. More personal.

Osamu and Suna exchanged a look. Osamu was the one to diffuse the tension, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Ain’t that yer line?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu replied—too firm. Too quick. Too obvious.

“Didn’t realize you trademarked it,” Suna added, dry as always.

(Y/n) spotted them and waved, her smile lighting up like always—blissfully unaware that a war had just begun inside Atsumu’s chest. She jogged over, cheeks flushed, still catching her breath.

“Hey! Sorry, we ran a little late. That’s Tetsu—he’s in my poetry elective.”

Sweetheart.

It echoed like a drumbeat in Atsumu’s skull.

He forced a grin. “Sweetheart, huh?”

(Y/n) blinked. “Oh—yeah, he just… says stuff like that—kinda like you do. It’s not a big deal.”

No big deal.

Right.

Totally.

Atsumu stared at her, pulse tapping loud behind his ears. “‘Kinda like me,’ huh?”

He'd almost hissed.

She blinked again, her smile faltering just enough to make something in his chest twist. Her brows pinched, just slightly, like she was trying to figure out what she’d said wrong.

“S’wrong with you?” she asked lightly, eyes flicking between him and Osamu like the latter might have answers.. “You’re acting a bit weird."

“Nothin's wrong,” he shot back—too fast. Way too fast. “Just didn’t know we were handin’ out pet names now, s’all.”

Osamu gave him a warning look. The kind that meant, pull it together.

But Atsumu was already halfway gone. His fists were already clenched in his hoodie pocket, and the words were already bubbling up.

It was the first time he’d ever hated someone for being nice—for being funny.

For making her laugh.

He didn’t say a word the rest of the walk.

He kept his eyes fixed ahead. Not because there was anything worth looking at—he just needed something to anchor him. His stare went vacant, unfocused, like his brain had gone somewhere else entirely. The path in front of him blurred at the edges. Everything around him—the footsteps, the breeze, the faint hum of traffic—faded into background noise.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Osamu making light conversation with (y/n), mulling over dinner ideas like nothing was wrong. Her voice chimed in now and then, soft and bright, completely at ease. Suna lagged behind, phone in hand, probably on Reddit.

But Atsumu barely registered any of it.

His brain was too loud. Too hot. Churning, hissing, burning.

He felt like a kettle left on the stove—lid rattling, steam building, seconds from boiling over.

He was stuck on that one stupid word. That name. That guy.

Tetsu.

He’d said it so casually. Sweetheart. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like he hadn’t just kicked over a landmine.

Atsumu bit the inside of his cheek.

It wasn’t even the word, not really. It was the ease of it. The way (y/n) had smiled when Tetsu said it. The comfort. The familiarity. Like it was something she expected from him. Like she liked it.

Atsumu didn’t know when she’d gotten close to this guy. Didn’t know he was part of her writing class. Didn’t know they walked together after class. Exchanging smiles. Laughing at his jokes.

All things she used to do with him.

The thought settled in his gut like a stone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Later that night, back at the apartment, (y/n) padded into the kitchen in search of tea—only to pause when she saw him. Atsumu stood in front of the fridge, bathed in dim light, staring blankly inside like he’d forgotten why he opened it.

He didn’t reach for anything right away. Just stood there a moment longer, eyes flicking lazily over the shelves like nothing in there was quite worth the effort.

He hadn’t noticed her yet.

“Hey,” she said softly.

His head jerked slightly at the sound of her voice, like he’d been pulled from far away. “Oh. Hey.”

He offered her a glance—brief—before turning back around. No smile. No warmth.

(Y/n) watched his back as he grabbed a carton of milk, lifting an arm to take a long swig.

She raised an eyebrow. She didn't approach him right away. Just stood at a reasonable distance, observing. Assessing, rather.

“You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, voice dripping with fake charm.

She gave him a slow blink. There it is.

It wasn’t the first time he’d deflected, but this time it landed harder than usual. She wasn’t oblivious. She had a very solid idea what was bothering him—and she wasn’t about to spell it out for him. Not yet. Not when she was giving him the chance to say it himself.

Part of her wanted to scoff at her own restraint. Fat chance.

“You were kinda quiet earlier,” she probed, still gentle, still coaxing.

“Just tired."

A lie. So obvious it was almost insulting. His voice didn’t have that worn-out drag she recognized after long practices or late nights. This wasn’t fatigue. This was avoidance, plain and simple.

Why couldn’t he just admit it?

Her jaw ticked once. That was the worst part—he didn’t even try to sell it. Like he was hoping she’d let it slide.

But she didn’t.

Not tonight.

“Right. Just tired.”

A pause stretched between them, taut and humming.

“I talked to Tetsu,” she added casually, watching him from the corner of her eye. “He texted me after we left. Said you seemed… intense.”

That got his attention. She didn’t miss the slight twitch of his brow.

“Oh, did he?” His voice had gone flat. “Glad I made an impression.”

(Y/n) hummed. “You did. He asked if you hated him or if you were just having a bad day.”

“Sure he did.”

(Y/n) folded her arms, watching as he tinkered aimlessly around the kitchen. Looking for a distraction. Back turned, facing her like a stone wall.

“He’s actually really nice, you know.”

She could've sworn she heard a scoff. “I’m sure he is."

There it was again. That clipped tone. The snide edge.

“Funny. You made more of an effort hiding your frustration earlier when I was laughing at his jokes.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at her.

Her eyes narrowed. “You know, if you’ve got something to say, you could just say it. Instead of sulking and being passive-aggressive about a guy who—surprise—was literally just talking to me.”

“I’m not sulkin'.”

She scoffed. “You’re definitely sulking. You’ve been avoiding me since the second I walked out of class.”

Atsumu’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue—but then he just sighed and ran a brisk hand through his hair.

“Listen, ’m not in the mood.” He finally turned to her, giving a look that landed somewhere between warning and weariness. “I’m gonna head up. Long day.”

“Nope,” she said, stepping aside to block his path, her expression sharp. “You don’t get to pull the moody card and ghost the conversation.”

Atsumu’s brow twitched. “What conversation?”

(Y/n)’s gaze didn’t waver. “The one where you admit you were jealous and being kind of an ass about it.”

His jaw ticked.

And for a second, neither of them moved.

The air thickened.

His voice dropped into a velvet-coated jab. “Cocky little thing.”

Before she could retort, he leaned in. Just enough to make it infuriating. His breath brushed her skin. His eyes darkened.

“If it’s eatin’ at ya so much,” he murmured, voice curling into a sneer, “why don’tcha vent to Tetsu about it?”

He didn’t bother hiding the distaste. The name rolled off his tongue like a slur.

(Y/n) opened her mouth to argue—but he was already brushing past her, his shoulder bumping hers with just enough force to make it feel deliberate.

Prick.

“See ya tomorrow,” he muttered.

And just like that, he was gone.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Morning sunlight filtered through the slats of the kitchen blinds, catching dust in its beams and painting the floor in pale, hazy stripes. The house was unusually quiet for this hour. No footsteps. No clatter of cutlery. No muffled Osamu humming through breakfast prep. Just the low, humming quiet of a place still steeped in sleep—or maybe something heavier.

(Y/n) stepped into the kitchen barefoot, hair tied back messily, a faded hoodie swallowing her frame. Her footsteps were soft against the tile, the kind that came from habit, not caution. But even still, she paused at the threshold.

He was already there.

Atsumu stood by the counter, hunched slightly, shirt wrinkled, cradling a mug in both hands. He wasn’t doing anything—just staring into the steam, eyes distant, jaw slack. Whatever expression had hardened on his face overnight hadn’t softened with sleep.

She lingered by the doorway a beat too long.

He didn’t look up.

(Y/n)’s chest pulled tight, something quiet but sharp blooming in the space between her ribs. This wasn’t new—Atsumu avoiding eye contact when he was pissed. What was new was the ache behind it. The fact that she’d stopped knowing what version of him she was going to get.

Still, she moved toward the kettle, reaching over to grab a mug. Her arm brushed his.

He stepped away like he hadn’t noticed her at all.

Right.

Of course.

She inhaled slowly through her nose, counting the seconds it took for the kettle to boil, willing herself to stay grounded. Calm. Collected. Not bothered.

But the silence scraped at her like sandpaper.

"So we're doing this, then?" she asked quietly. No heat. No sharpness. Just a weary tilt of her voice.

Atsumu didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

She turned slightly, just enough to see the angle of his profile. His eyes were downcast. Still wrapped in thought, or maybe just pretending to be.

“I said one thing. One,” she murmured. “And you made it a whole thing.”

That got him. She saw the twitch in his jaw.

But again—no answer.

Her hand tightened around her mug. She could feel the ache of it now. Not just his silence—but the effort it took to pretend she didn’t care. To match his pettiness stride for stride.

“Tetsu texted me again last night,” she added, deliberately casual.

Nothing.

She let that hang between them. Like bait. Like a challenge.

He sipped his coffee. Still didn’t meet her eyes.

Coward.

Her voice was quieter this time. Flat. “You didn’t say goodnight.”

He set the mug down a little too hard, the ceramic clink echoing through the quiet kitchen.

And then, like a final blow, he turned and left.

Didn’t speak. Didn’t glance back. Just walked out, hoodie sleeves bunched at his wrists, footsteps heavy and retreating.

She stood there, heart stinging, tea forgotten.

Some fights had shouting. Some had tears.

This one had silence.

And silence, she was starting to realize, hurt a whole lot more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Movie night wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

The living room was warm, lights low, a blanket tossed over the back of the couch, a half-finished puzzle pushed to one corner of the coffee table. Everything looked normal—comfortable, even. But (y/n) could feel the tension in the room like static. It clung to the air, heavy and unspoken.

She sat curled into the armrest, legs tucked beneath her, a cushion hugged to her chest. Across from her, Atsumu slouched in his usual spot—hood pulled up, expression neutral, thumbs idly tapping the rim of a water bottle like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to drink it or launch it across the room.

Osamu handed her the popcorn with a soft, “Here,” like he was passing a truce flag.

“Thanks,” she murmured, barely glancing at him.

The movie played on, some half-hearted action film Suna had picked. It barely held anyone’s attention. He was slumped low in his armchair, feet on the ottoman, phone balanced on his thigh, thumb flicking lazily through some feed even as the screen ahead flashed and boomed.

Halfway through a loud car chase scene, her phone buzzed quietly in her lap.

Rin: y’all break up or sth?

(Y/n) stared at the message for a second, then glanced at him. He didn’t look up. Didn’t even blink. Just kept scrolling.

She rolled her eyes and typed back.

You: we’d have to be dating for that.

A second passed.

Rin: mhm coulda fooled me

She let her phone drop to the couch cushion beside her, face down.

Still, Atsumu hadn’t said a word.

Not to her. Not since last night.

Every word was filtered through Osamu or aimed at Suna. She could’ve been a coat rack for all he acknowledged her presence. Like she’d been demoted to background noise.

The thing that grated wasn’t the distance—it was the performance. The calculated effort to pretend everything was fine, that they were fine. Like he hadn’t iced her out in the kitchen the evening he picked her up from Uni. Like he hadn’t dropped that little dagger of a line and walked away without looking back.

She glanced at him.

He was still staring straight ahead. Jaw tight. Fingers twitching.

“Had coffee with Tetsu today,” she said suddenly, voice light.

The silence that followed was immediate. Dense.

Suna’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Osamu shifted in his seat.

Still, Atsumu said nothing.

Not even a glance.

Look at me.

“He read me one of his new pieces,” she continued, picking a kernel of popcorn, twirling it between her fingers. “He’s been working on this stream-of-consciousness thing. It's nice. Really vulnerable.”

Osamu cleared his throat. “Huh. Sounds... poetic.”

“Mhm.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I told him it reminded me of Atsumu, actually.”

A breath hitched across the room. Quiet, but she caught it.

Still, he didn’t bite.

Instead, he stood. Abruptly. Walked to the kitchen under the guise of grabbing a drink. A drawer opened. Closed. Too loud. A bottle cap clinked against the counter.

(Y/n) let out a soft breath and sagged slightly into the couch.

Suna didn’t look up. “You’re really gonna keep poking him like that?”

“I’m not poking,” she replied. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

She turned her gaze to the glowing TV screen, unreadable. “For him to grow up.”

The words left her mouth cooler than she meant them to. She hadn’t planned to say them. Hadn’t even realized she felt them until they were out in the air between them, heavy and uninvited.

Suna didn’t reply right away. Just glanced sideways, his expression unreadable in the TV’s flickering light. Then, without a word, he leaned forward, grabbed a handful of popcorn, and sat back like he hadn’t just witnessed a relationship quietly unraveling beside him.

(Y/n) pulled the blanket a little tighter around her legs. Onscreen, someone was shouting. Something exploded. The room stayed quiet.

Atsumu never came back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Atsumu hadn’t planned on going to the library.

He hated the place. Too quiet. Too cold. Too many rules and not enough snacks. If hell had a waiting room, he was convinced it looked like this—rows of dusty books, stiff-backed chairs, and the constant, smug silence of people who actually enjoyed being there.

But his apartment was too loud, the team lounge was full of idiots, and his brain wouldn’t shut up long enough to let him nap. So here he was. At rock bottom. In the library. With a textbook under one arm and a pen he already wanted to snap in half.

It was fine. He’d find a table. He’d get his notes done. He’d move on.

Until the universe—as always—decided to make a complete joke out of him.

Of course the library was packed. Midterms or whatever. Every table was full. Every chair taken. Except—

His stomach sank the moment he saw her.

(Y/n). Back turned, head tilted just enough to catch the soft edge of her profile. Sitting across from none other than Tetsu Fucking Poetry Boy.

Atsumu stopped walking. Just for a second. Just long enough to internally scream.

And then, like fate had a sick sense of humor, he spotted the only available seat in the entire damn room—tucked in the far corner, across from a broken heater, a table that was just far enough to be forgotten but just close enough to give him a perfect, unobstructed view of her and her stupid, flowery friend.

Fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic.

He dropped his stuff on the table with more force than necessary and sat down with a grunt that earned him a glare from the girl at the next table. Whatever. He didn’t care. He opened his book, flipped to a random page, and tried to focus.

He really did.

But the thing about libraries? Quiet meant every little sound stood out.

Every scrape of a chair. Every soft murmur. Every laugh.

Especially her laugh.

That gentle little breath of sound—the one she tried to hold back when she found something really funny. Like now. Apparently Tetsu had cracked some hilarious observation about metaphors or whatever the hell he wrote about.

Atsumu’s jaw clenched. His pen hovered uselessly over his notebook. He hadn’t written a single word. He could feel his pulse in his temple.

Another laugh.

A quiet, almost bashful, “You’re so dumb,” from (y/n), and then a hushed giggle that sliced right through him.

His grip tightened around his pen. He didn’t even realize how hard until his knuckles ached.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Of all the places, of all the tables, of all the goddamn days—

A shadow passed over his table. Then another.

“Ya look like yer about to shit yerself,” Osamu said, rounding the table.

Suna followed, dropping his bag with a dramatic sigh. “Aw, did we miss the meltdown?”

Their arrival was both a curse and a lifeline.

Atsumu didn’t answer right away. He just shoved his notebook away with a quiet swoosh and dropped his pen like a man resigned.

“Didn’t realize this was a group project,” he muttered.

Osamu and Suna dragged their chairs in unison, the legs scraping against the floor loud enough to draw a look from a girl at the next table.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Atsumu asked, narrowing his eyes at Osamu. “You bored or somethin'?”

“Speak for yourself,” Suna added. “You haven’t voluntarily stepped foot in a library since high school.”

“What can I say?” Osamu shrugged and pulled a battered notebook from his bag, slapping it onto the table. Loose pages fluttered out across the wood like confetti. “Finals got me in a chokehold.”

The paper rustling stirred the girl next to them again—her eyes already narrowed over the rim of her glasses like she’d been waiting for an excuse to hate them.

Suna turned in his chair, met her gaze dead-on, and jerked his chin like he was silently asking, something wrong?

She didn’t dignify him with a response. Just rolled her eyes, gathered her books, and stormed off with the fury of someone who’d only gotten four hours of sleep and took that very personally.

“Charmin’ girl,” Osamu muttered, flipping a page.

Atsumu sniggered and stretched, arms overhead as his joints cracked audibly—like he’d been buried in his notes for hours when in reality... He glanced down at the desk. His notebook lay open in front of him, still blank. A glaring reminder of his unproductivity.

“What about you?” Osamu asked, already digging out a sandwich from his bag like this was a picnic. “You studyin’ or tryna chat-up some cute bookworm?”

Suna reached for the half-empty pack of jelly sticks peeking out of Osamu’s bag, his movements obnoxiously smooth. “Aw, 'Samu, you shouldn’t have.”

Osamu shot him a withering glare.

Atsumu huffed a dry laugh, arms folded on the table as he angled his head downward. “I wish.”

He flicked lazily through his notes, nose wrinkling like the very act disgusted him. “‘M here for the same reason you are.”

Then, under his breath—eyes drifting toward that one table in the distance—

“’Least that was the plan.”

Neither of them missed the shift in his tone.

They didn’t say anything at first. Just exchanged a quiet look as they started unpacking their own notes.

Then, like clockwork, Suna leaned to the side, following Atsumu's line of sight. He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Oh,” he said. Just that. One syllable, dragged through understanding.

Osamu followed his gaze. “Seriously?”

Atsumu didn’t answer.

“Yer pathetic,” Osamu said flatly, peeling the crust off his sandwich before plopping it into his mouth.

Atsumu gave him a glare that could’ve soured milk.

“Were ya spyin’ on her?” He asked between mouthfuls.

“Fuck no,” he hissed. Neither seemed convinced. “I ain't lyin’! You think I’d willingly set foot into this dweeb cesspool just to spy on ‘er?”

The duo exchanged a long, knowing look.

Atsumu clicked his tongue, agitated. “I ain't,” he repeated, more defensive. “They just happened to be here. I walked in and bam—there they were. Right in my face.”

“You could’ve walked out,” Suna offered, shrugging as he bit into a jelly stick.

Atsumu scoffed, mildly offended. “Yeah, right—and what would that make me?”

“A whiny little bitch."

Atsumu lunged for him on instinct, arm swiping across the table. Suna jerked back, grinning around the purple jelly stick.

"Leave 'em be," Osamu said coolly, reading over his notes. He didn’t even glance toward them—clearly didn’t see the appeal, unlike the other two. "They're only talkin'."

“She’s gigglin',” Atsumu hissed, barely above a whisper. “Ya don’t giggle at someone unless they’re funny. Or cute. Or both.”

“God forbid someone be funny," Suna drawled, rocking lazily on the back two legs of his chair, still sucking on that goddamn jelly stick. Atsumu resisted the urge to rip it out of his mouth.

“His jokes suck.”

“How would you know? You been on a date with Tetsu as well?"

Atsumu sneered at the word.

Date. Yeah, right. Who takes someone to the library for a first date?

But what if it wasn’t the first?

What if there had already been others?

How many others?

Atsumu swallowed hard and shoved the thought deep into the back of his skull. Clicked his tongue again.

“I don’t need to. Just look at him. He's a poetry major. I can smell his bottom shelf vanilla body spray from here.”

Suna snorted despite himself.

Osamu pressed a knuckle to his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Atsumu slumped further into his chair, eyes on his shut notebook, expression tight.

Then Osamu’s voice broke the moment. Low. Blunt. But not unkind, a rare flicker of seriousness settling between his words.

“You do realize this is yer fault, right?”

Atsumu didn’t reply, nor did he look up.

He knew.

God, he knew.

That didn’t make it hurt any less.

A beat passed. Long enough for it to feel like a decision.

Then Suna leaned forward, propping his chin on his palm. “Y'know, there’s this thing you can do when you like someone…”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes. “What.”

“It’s wild,” Suna said, deadpan. “Really cutting-edge.”

Osamu glanced up from his notes, barely containing his grin.

“You just… tell them,” Suna finished.

Atsumu scoffed. “Yeah? And say what, exactly?”

“Dunno.” Suna slurped the last of his jelly stick. “That's something for the both of you to figure out."

Osamu hummed, nodding with what one might consider mild interest. “Ya wouldn’t be in this mess if ya just talked to 'er."

“I do talk to 'er.”

“Right,” Osamu drawled. “I mean properly. None of yer passive-aggressive bullshit.”

Atsumu let out a sharp breath through his nose. “She’s the one who’s all over that fuckin’ guy.”

“So what if she laughs at a few of his jokes?” Suna replied. “You sound like a 14-year-old.”

Atsumu scowled, shoulders squaring as he leaned back in his chair. “Ya don’t get it. I’ve never seen her giggle like that before. Not even with me or—” he gestured toward Suna, a flicker of emotion sneaking in. “Even him. Her childhood bestie or whatever.”

Suna’s brows lifted—not quite a challenge, but close.

Or maybe that was just how Atsumu chose to take it.

“She does,” Suna said evenly. “You’ve just never been around to hear it. (Y/n)’s a pretty giggly person by nature.”

Atsumu tried not to let his irritation show.

Tetsu was the problem right now. Tetsu.

Osamu leaned forward to grab a highlighter, casually creating a barrier between the two. “Y’know, if yer this insufferable when yer not datin' her, I’m terrified to see what happens when ya are.”

“Shut up, 'Samu. No one asked."

"I'm serious. Yer lack of communication is astoundin'."

“Plus she doesn’t owe you anything,” Suna added, smooth as ever.

Atsumu’s jaw tightened.

Right. Because they weren’t dating.

Just like Osamu had conveniently pointed out.

He already saw where this was going, and he hated it.

If they were about to lecture him on feelings and intentions and his goddamn love life, he was out.

It was none of their business. Whatever he felt for (y/n)—vague as it was, loud as it got—it didn’t concern them.

Feelings were messy. Conversations were messier.

And if there was one thing Atsumu had learned about liking someone, it was this:

You either commit, or you run.

And he’d never been good at choosing.

Not when it came to this.

Love.

"Relax." Osamu's voice sliced through Atsumu's thoughts like a knife through hot butter. “We’re not here to lecture ya. All we’re sayin’ is—talkin’s an option. You know (y/n). She’ll listen. In fact 'm sure she'd be more than happy to discuss with ya."

"She's always been the more vocal type," Suna added, shrugging calmly.

“Yer clearly bothered by the idea of them datin',” Osamu said. “So ask 'er about it.”

“'M not bothered.”

Osamu and Suna gave him the exact same look. Flat. Devoid of humour.

Atsumu cringed.

Okay. Whatever. Point taken.

So maybe he was a little peeved.

How could he not be?

The guy wore v-necks and chinos—chinos! (Y/n) could do better. She should do better.

Atsumu slumped lower into his seat.

Then, quieter. More careful:

“...I just hate how easy it looks.”

Osamu looked up. Suna’s chair landed back on all four feet.

“With him,” Atsumu added, not quite meeting their eyes. “Like... he don’t gotta try.”

That sobered them just a little.

But only a little.

“Maybe he doesn’t,” Osamu said.

Atsumu looked up, brows furrowing—almost like that stung more than he expected. Like he was trying to figure out if Osamu meant it as an insult.

“But you do,” Osamu added, voice steady. Clarifying. Grounding.

Suna nodded. “And that’s not a bad thing.”

Atsumu didn’t say anything. Just glanced across the library again—at (y/n) and Tetsu, still talking, still laughing like no one was watching.

Then she looked up.

Caught his stare.

Even from this far, he could’ve sworn her eyes widened—surprise, confusion, maybe even guilt. He didn’t know.

Didn’t want to.

He sucked in a breath through his nose, heart jumping in a way he blamed on being startled.

He hadn’t meant to get her attention.

Still, as he toyed with his pen between his fingers, his friends’ words lingered.

Talking to (y/n)...

God.

Where would he even start?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

(Y/n) hadn’t even looked up when the door to the library opened. She didn’t need to—her back was already straightening at the sound of three sets of footsteps, too loud, too confident, and far too familiar.

She glanced up. And there they were.

Atsumu. Osamu. Suna.

She blinked, stunned for half a second—not at the sight of them, but at the sheer audacity.

What the hell were they doing here?

No, seriously—what were they doing here?

The library, with its creaky chairs and strict “no snacking” policy, was sacred. Quiet. Orderly. Full of mild-mannered English majors and caffeine-fuelled med students. Not... jocks. Not six-footers in hoodies and joggers who made every chair they touched squeak like a scream.

She stared for a moment longer. They looked so out of place it almost made her laugh. But the amusement quickly gave way to something tighter. Something warmer.

Annoyance.

Surely—surely—this wasn’t on purpose. Atsumu couldn’t have known she was here. There was no way he’d actually come all the way to the library just to eavesdrop.

Osamu wouldn’t let him do that. Suna definitely wouldn’t.

…Right?

She must’ve looked as annoyed as she felt because Tetsu lightly tapped her arm, pulling her attention back.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

She blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”

Tetsu smiled politely, but his gaze flicked to where she’d been staring. His expression didn’t change, but something in it cooled.

(Y/n) tried to focus again, nodding along as Tetsu talked through the reading. She picked at the cuff of her hoodie absently, resisting the urge to glance over.

She managed to concentrate for a few minutes.

...Until a soft thunk drew her attention again.

She looked.

Atsumu had tossed a pencil at Osamu. Osamu had dodged. And the girl behind them—bless her—had taken it square to the forehead.

The sharp What the hell?! that followed echoed through the library.

(Y/n) slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh.

The poor girl stood, flushed and furious. A heated whisper-argument broke out, heads turned, and thirty seconds later, the librarian was shooing the trio toward the exit.

She caught Atsumu’s eye right before he disappeared behind the shelves. His expression unreadable. She didn’t bother trying.

Tetsu turned back to her, one brow raised. “They're your friends, right?” A pause. Then he sucked in a breath—almost like a wince.

(Y/n) caught it. Just a flicker.

But she blinked it away. Maybe she was reading too much into it.

“They sure are lively,” he added, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She exhaled through her nose—half sigh, half laugh. “That’s one way to describe them.”

Tetsu nodded slowly, like he was trying to piece something together. “The blonde one… Asumo, right?”

Her jaw tensed.

“Atsumu,” she corrected, almost automatically. For some reason, the mispronunciation irked her more than it should’ve.

“Right,” Tetsu said, still smiling. “He your boyfriend?”

She spluttered. “What—no.” A scoff, her hand waving the idea away like smoke. “God, no.”

Then, after a beat—because she was curious. Because she couldn’t help herself—

“What makes you think that?”

Tetsu gave a small shrug. "He seemed... irritated the other day. I figured it was about the nickname.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think he was mad because that’s what he usually calls me.”

Tetsu arched a perfectly groomed brow, his tone dipping into something almost… accusing. “He calls you sweetheart?”

(Y/n) blinked once. “Yeah— all the time. But it's not romantic."

She said it like it was obvious. Like it meant nothing.

Because, in Atsumu’s world, it didn’t.

In fact, he called her plenty of nicknames, each one as flowery as the next. That’s just who he was: a flirt. Loud, casual, effortless, charming. He’d say it to anyone. Probably had.

She just happened to be around the most.

She lived with him, after all. So yeah—perfectly normal. Completely harmless.

Still, Tetsu didn’t look convinced. His jaw had tightened slightly, mouth flattening into something too neutral.

“Sure,” he said. “Whatever you say, (y/n).”

The use of her name—so pointed, so deliberate—made something in her clench. She didn’t like the tone. Didn’t like the implication. Didn’t like having to read between the lines again.

She was tired of that. Tired of guessing how someone felt. Tired of almosts and maybes and weird, strained silences.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel like reading poetry anymore.

She grabbed her bag, slinging it over one shoulder as she stood. “I think I’m gonna head home,” she said, forcing a smile. “Not sure I can take another stanza about tragic lovers and unspoken longing.”

Tetsu blinked, glancing up at her. “Oh. You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve hit my limit for symbolism today.”

He nodded, but his eyes followed her a little too long as she turned to leave.

And as she walked toward the exit, her phone buzzed.

She swiped it open.

Rin: did you see us get kicked out the library lol

(Y/n) huffed a laugh, thumbs already moving.

You: unfortunately yes 🙄 what the hell were you all doing there anyway??

The response came fast. Typical.

Rin: studying. obviously. ‘samu brought snacks. got us kicked out.

You: sure. snacks. i’m sure that’s all it was. pretty sure i saw a pencil fly across the room

Rin: lol that was atsumu but the snacks played a part the librarian confiscated them can you believe that

You: the audacity

Rin: ikr

She smiled a little. Just a flicker. But it faded as quickly as it came.

A beat passed before the next message popped up.

Rin: you alright?

She stared at the screen for a second. Then typed, slowly.

You: not really.

Another pause. Then:

Rin: wanna talk about it?

You: yeah. if that’s okay.

Rin: where are you?

You: heading home. passing near the park.

Rin: omw

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The park hadn’t changed much.

Same creaky swings. Same chipped blue paint. Same patch of wildflowers that looked like they’d been planted by accident. The sandbox was mostly abandoned, save for a single forgotten shovel sticking out like a gravestone. A breeze swept through the trees, rustling the leaves like a lazy hush.

It was quieter now—most of the kids had gone home, and the sun had dipped low enough to cast everything in a soft, hazy gold. The kind of light that made you want to stay still a little longer. The kind that made memories feel like they could sneak up on you.

(Y/n) curled her fingers around the cool metal chains of the swing, trainers skimming slow figure-eights in the dust.

Across from her, Suna was perched on the monkey bars like he had been since they were kids—legs slung over one bar, back leaning against another, phone held lazily in one hand. The golden light filtered through the trees, catching in his lashes, painting half his face in sun and shadow.

“Trying to get a good shot?” she asked, voice light.

“Mm,” he hummed. “Sun’s cooperating for once.”

She watched him adjust the brightness, zoom in, tilt slightly left. His thumb hovered over the screen longer than necessary—like he was waiting for the exact second everything clicked into place.

Then, quietly—“Did Atsumu say anything?”

He didn’t look up. Just tapped the screen one more time. “About you?”

She scuffed her shoe in the dirt. “Uh-huh.”

Once satisfied with the photo, Suna hopped down in that unbothered, fluid way of his and wandered over. The swing beside hers groaned as he dropped into it, long legs stretching out, tucking his phone into his hoodie pocket.

“Yeah. We spoke briefly. But before you ask, I’m not telling you what he said.”

She turned toward him, brows furrowed. “Why not?”

He shrugged, watching the wind tangle a leaf mid-air. “S’not my place.”

“But I tried talking to him,” she muttered, frustrated. “He just brushed me off. Couldn't get a word out of him. It's annoying. I know he's jealous—he doesn’t exactly try to hide it. But then he ignores me. Or shuts me out. I don’t know what he wants from me.”

Suna didn’t answer right away. Just sat quietly, rocking a little, watching a squirrel skitter across the gravel.

It was always like this with him. He never rushed to respond. Letting her words hang in the air like low-hanging fog. The silence between them wasn’t heavy—it never was with Suna. Just thoughtful. He let moments breathe. Let the thoughts come in their own time.

She heard the gentle jingle of his chains as he shifted. Then came his voice, soft and even.

“Just give him time. Like I said, we talked. It wasn’t much, but… he came forward in the end. I think he’s thinking about it just as much as you are.”

She didn’t respond right away. Her gaze followed the light bleeding through the treetops, catching flecks of dust in the air like glitter.

“Really?” she asked eventually, more hopeful. “You actually think so?”

Suna nodded slowly. “Mhm. Just be patient with him. You know what he’s like—he hasn’t got it all figured out yet.”

(Y/n) let out a dry laugh. “That sure is a nice way of phrasing it.”

He huffed, something that could’ve been a laugh of his own. Then, for the first time, he turned to look at her. His smirk was soft. Teasing. Familiar.

“What are you two like, eh?”

She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gave her a flat look. Raised a brow. Said nothing.

When she didn’t drop it, he finally leaned back against the swing, arms resting on the chains, eyes skyward.

“You and Atsumu. Always dancing around each other. When are you gonna fess up?”

“There’s nothing to fess up,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Her voice went quiet. “I don’t know.”

Suna didn’t press. He just… stayed. Listened.

And so, she kept talking.

“It’s hard to tell with Atsumu. Some days it’s like he’s pulling me in, and other days it’s like I don’t exist. I try not to let it get to me, but... it does. It makes me feel stupid. Like I’m chasing something that’s only real in my head.”

The words fell out easier than she’d expected. She didn’t usually say things like that. Not even to herself.

Suna was quiet for a while. He didn’t look at her. Just let the chains creak beneath him as he rocked gently back and forth.

Then—just once—he glanced her way.

Something flickered in his eyes. The kind of look you only catch if you’re really paying attention. And she was. But it was gone just as quickly.

He leaned back again, legs stretching farther. “You’re not stupid.”

She breathed out slowly. “Thanks.”

Another silence passed, this one lighter.

“I’ll wait,” she said after a while. “Like you said. I’ll be patient. I just…” she shifted her grip on the chains, “I hope he doesn’t take too long. The house feels weird lately.”

Suna nodded once. “He’ll come around.”

“You sure?”

“No,” he said, smirking slightly. “But it sounds better than ‘maybe.’”

She laughed. That soft, airy kind—the kind you don’t even realize you’ve been holding in.

The sun dropped lower, casting the swings in long shadows. The wind stirred the trees. In the distance, a dog barked. Somewhere nearby, wind chimes tinkled lazily.

They didn’t talk much after that—just sat there, rocking slowly, watching the sky turn honey and then violet.

No drama. No tension. Just quiet company.

And for a while, that was enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Which was stupid, really—because most days he’d kill for some peace. But now, with the sun low and bleeding orange through the living room blinds, all that quiet did was piss him off.

He paced.

Not on purpose. Not even consciously. Just… back and forth, socked feet dragging along the scuffed wooden floor. One hand tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, the other stuffed deep into his pocket, pulling the fabric down like it might ground him.

Where the hell were they?

He didn’t need to ask. He knew.

(Y/n) and Suna were out. Probably talking. Probably somewhere breezy and warm and not here, while Atsumu stewed in a thick, molasses-flavoured mix of annoyance, regret, and something else he refused to name.

He paused by the window. Squinted.

Still no sign of them.

“Quit pacin'. Yer gonna wear a hole in the floor,” Osamu said from the couch, voice lazy. Barely looked up from his phone.

“‘M not pacin',” Atsumu snapped.

“You are.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be if someone—” he cut himself off, jaw tight.

Osamu just looked at him. That stony expression that always made Atsumu feel like a ten-year-old throwing a tantrum. He turned away before his brother could say something actually annoying.

He hated this. The waiting. The guessing. The not knowing where she was or what she was thinking. Who she was laughing with. What she was saying.

He’d seen the text on Suna's phone. Hadn’t read it—just saw the preview flash up on the lock screen. A little part of him itched to unlock it. To see if maybe they had said something about him.

It didn’t.

And even if it did, what then?

Was he gonna scroll through their conversation like some jealous ex-boyfriend?

He wasn’t even her boyfriend.

God.

Atsumu scrubbed a hand over his face and slumped onto the edge of the couch, elbows to knees, head in his hands. The silence buzzed louder now, filling all the cracks in the room that she usually softened.

He missed her voice. Her laugh. The way she always had a mug in her hand, never drank from it, just carried it around like a comfort object. He missed her random shower thoughts. The way she kicked her feet sometimes when she was on her phone, unabashed when an edit of her favourite character came up on her 'for you' page. The sound of her bedroom door creaking.

He missed her.

And it was ridiculous. Because she wasn’t gone. She was just… elsewhere. With Suna.

And Suna got her. Always had.

That part didn’t usually bother Atsumu—except now it did.

Now, it bothered the hell out of him.

She’d gone to him, hadn’t she? When everything got awkward. When Atsumu had snapped at her in the kitchen. She’d walked away, and she’d gone straight to someone else. Which, fine. That was fair. That was her right.

But it still stung.

Atsumu sank into the couch, tilted his head back and let out a slow exhale, like maybe if he breathed deep enough he could push the weight off his chest.

“She’s not mad at ya,” Osamu said, out of nowhere.

Atsumu blinked. “Did I ask?”

“No,” Osamu replied, cool as anything. “But yer face is loud.”

Atsumu muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothin'.”

They sat in the golden hush of almost-evening. The kitchen clock ticked in the distance, the kind of mundane background noise that felt cruelly loud when you were going insane inside your own head.

“I don’t get it,” Atsumu muttered, half to himself. “She knows ’m jealous. So why won’t she just… say somethin'?”

He hated saying it. Jealous. But Osamu knew better than anyone, was privy to all the ugly feelings that stirred inside his brother's heart. He'd perhaps be the only person Atsumu would ever admit them to.

Osamu didn’t look up from his phone. Just hummed low in his throat and replied, “Say what?”

Atsumu opened his mouth.

Closed it.

What did he want her to say?

That she noticed? That she cared? That she liked him back?

His mouth twisted. “I dunno,” he said lamely. “Somethin’. Anythin’.”

Osamu finally set his phone down, the click of it hitting the table louder than necessary.

“Were ya expectin’ her to apologise?”

Atsumu bristled. “No. I—no.”

“What, then?”

He didn’t answer.

Not right away.

Because the truth was—yeah. Kinda.

Not an apology, exactly. But some kind of… recognition. Like maybe she’d look at him and say I see you. I get it. I feel it too.

And maybe that made him a jerk.

But still.

Still.

“I don’t know,” Atsumu said again, voice sharp now. Frustration gnawing at him like a bloodhound. “I don’t know, okay? I just—"

He cursed under his breath. Pushed his back off the couch again. His head dropped low.

Osamu watched him quietly for a moment before sighing. “Maybe she’s tired of bein’ the only one who says stuff.”

Atsumu didn't raise his head, just glanced at his twin. “Huh?”

“She always meets you halfway,” Osamu said. “Always puts in the effort. Maybe she’s waitin’ to see if you’ll do the same.”

Atsumu went quiet.

Because deep down, he knew Osamu was right.

He never said it first. Not when it mattered. Always wrapped it up in jokes, or flirty one-liners, or fake indifference. Anything but real words. Anything but actual feelings.

Because actual feelings?

Those meant vulnerability.

Those meant risk.

And he wasn’t ready for that.

...Was he?

His eyes drifted to the front door again. Wondering if she’d walk through it. Wondering if she’d look at him. Wondering if he’d know what to say when she did.

He didn’t.

But maybe… maybe he wanted to try.

He ran a hand through his hair, mumbled into the room, “Think I messed up.”

Osamu didn’t gloat. Didn’t tease. Just leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“Then fix it.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The front door creaked open with a push of her palm, the familiar groan of the hinges dragging out into the quiet apartment.

She stepped inside, soft-footed, like her presence might echo.

Suna followed behind, wordless as always, slipping his shoes off with that same lazy, practiced ease. For a second, they just stood there in the entryway, the stillness stretching around them like plastic wrap—tight, uncomfortable.

The hallway smelled like soy sauce and garlic. Osamu was cooking.

(Y/n) didn’t hear music though, which was strange. The kitchen was never silent when he cooked. No playlist humming through a speaker. No news show playing in the background. Just the hiss of something on the stovetop, the low clatter of utensils. And—

A sound.

The couch creaked.

She didn’t look.

She knew.

Instead, she toed off her shoes and offered a quiet “thanks” to Suna, who gave a non-committal nod and wandered off in the direction of his room, phone already out. Her own fingers curled slightly at her sides. Her palms felt hot. She wasn’t sure why.

Or—no. That was a lie.

She knew exactly why.

He was here.

And she could feel it.

Feel him.

Even without looking, she knew he was sprawled across the couch like always. She could practically hear the way he was pretending not to notice her. The quiet shuffle. The strained stillness.

God.

Why did it feel so different?

Why did the air feel so heavy?

(Y/n) cleared her throat and headed for the kitchen, willing her steps to stay even.

Osamu stood at the stove, stirring something in a pan. His eyes flicked toward her, brief but not unkind.

“You eat yet?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Wasn’t hungry earlier.”

He nodded once, like he understood. “It’ll be ready in ten.”

“Thanks.”

The silence was less awkward here, but still not comfortable. Not really. Osamu, ever the unbothered one, didn’t push. Just continued cooking with the same practiced calm he always carried.

(Y/n) lingered near the fridge, fingers tapping idly against the handle. She wasn’t thirsty. She just needed something to do.

“So,” Osamu said after a pause, “how'd the date go?”

She turned sharply, blinking. Oddly enough, she couldn't tell who he was referring to. Her study session with Tetsu, or her impromptu outing with Suna.

Not that it mattered. She knew what he was trying to do.

His face was neutral—but his eyes were teasing. And that said enough.

She clicked her tongue, but it was anything but hostile, if not a bit thankful. “Zip it, you."

A soft chuckle. “Just tryna ease the tension."

She huffed, but it soothed something in her chest.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the faintest movement—just a shift of a leg over the side of the couch, the tiniest rustle of fabric. Her throat tightened.

Still, she didn’t look at him.

Didn’t give him the satisfaction.

Didn’t trust herself to, anyway.

Osamu slid the pan off the burner and lowered the heat. “He was a pain while you were gone.”

She didn’t say anything.

Didn’t have to.

They both knew who he meant.

She glanced toward the stairs. Her room upstairs. Her retreat. Her escape.

“Alright,” she murmured. “I think I’m gonna go—”

“Wait,” came a voice behind her.

Not loud.

Not urgent.

Just there.

Like it had been waiting.

(Y/n) froze. Turned her head slightly. Atsumu stood halfway off the couch, one hand gripping the back of it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the room.

His eyes met hers—and dropped just as fast.

The silence that followed was jagged.

“Are you—” he started. Then stopped. His mouth opened again, but no sound came out. His shoulders sagged the tiniest bit, like whatever fight he’d worked up had drained out of him the second he saw her.

She tilted her head.

Waited.

But he said nothing.

Just sank back onto the couch with a muttered, “Never mind.”

Osamu didn’t hide the sigh that escaped his chest.

Suna, reappearing at the hallway edge with a protein bar half-unwrapped, squinted at them all like he'd walked in on an unfinished scene.

Nobody said a word, letting the awkwardness hang in the air.

Osamu was the first to break it.

He scratched the back of his head. “Honestly.”

(Y/n) didn’t look back to the couch.

Didn’t stay, either.

She turned and climbed the stairs.

Every step heavier than the last.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He didn’t move at first.

Not when she turned.

Not when she climbed the stairs.

Not even when her door clicked softly shut—quiet, polite, final.

He just sat there.

Still.

Sprawled across the couch like dead weight, eyes fixed on the ceiling as the last sliver of sunlight bled out through the windows.

For a second, he thought he might actually fall asleep.

But that would’ve required peace. And tonight, peace was in short supply.

He groaned—loud, frustrated, full-bodied—and dragged both hands down his face until his cheeks burned.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, to no one in particular.

Then he pushed himself up, stomped toward the stairs loud enough to draw attention, and slammed his bedroom door a little too hard.

The room was dim. Warm gold edged the corners of his blinds, spilling faint strips of light across his desk. It painted soft shadows on the wall—shapes that didn’t matter. Nothing in here really mattered. It all felt too small. Too hot. Like he couldn’t stretch out without touching something that reminded him of her.

He sat on the edge of his bed.

Stared at the floor.

And then, slowly, like it might explode if he moved too fast, he reached for his phone.

The screen lit up with a dozen stupid notifications. Group chats. A calendar reminder for weights tomorrow. Osamu sending him a TikTok with a caption that just read: you. He ignored all of it.

Opened her name.

And stared.

Just stared.

The chat window was blank.

He hadn’t messaged her all day. Or the day before. Not since—

He swallowed. Didn’t finish the thought. He'd never gone this long without texting her.

He started typing.

hey.

Then:

sorry i’ve been weird.

Then:

i know ive been an ass lately. i didnt mean it. okay, maybe i did. but its not because of you. not really. i just

He stopped.

Read it back.

Scowled.

Deleted all of it with one angry thumb.

Started over.

you and tetsu a thing?

Deleted that too.

do you wanna talk?

Backspaced it, letter by letter, like each key was pressing into his brain.

He tossed the phone onto his comforter and flopped backwards onto his bed, arms flung wide like he might summon answers from the ceiling.

What the fuck was he supposed to say?

Sorry I got jealous because another guy called you sweetheart?

Sorry I don’t know how to be normal when it comes to you?

Sorry I think I like you but I don’t know how to say that without making it weird and fucking everything up?

He groaned again, dragging a pillow over his face.

He hated this. He hated feelings. Hated how they sat on his chest like bricks, heavy and unrelenting. Hated how they didn’t go away just because he ignored them.

And God, he’d tried to ignore them.

He really, really had.

He thought maybe if he flirted like usual, if he brushed it off with jokes, if he let it simmer beneath the surface without naming it—maybe it’d go away. Maybe it’d stay casual.

But it didn’t feel casual anymore.

Not when her smile was the first thing he looked for in a room.

Not when silence from her felt like punishment.

Not when the idea of her with someone else made his skin crawl.

He sat up again, dragging a hand through his hair.

This was ridiculous.

He was ridiculous.

He looked at the door. Then back at his phone. Then back at the door.

Then stood.

Walked to it.

Paused.

Stared at the handle like it was a detonator.

If he knocked, there was no going back. No pretending nothing was wrong. No more brushing it off. He’d have to face it. Face her. And maybe that scared him more than anything.

He sighed.

Then—

The door across the hall cracked open.

Light spilled into the hallway.

And there she was.

They both froze.

Two doors, two hearts pounding, one painfully timed coincidence.

Like idiots in a teen drama. Like deer caught in headlights. Like everything was about to change and neither of them knew what to do about it.

He hadn’t meant to see her.

She hadn’t meant to see him.

Yet here they were.

Atsumu’s hand was still on the doorknob. Her hand was still curled around the railing. The soft lighting from her room spilled out into the hall, warm and golden, catching the strands of her hair and painting her in a glow that made his breath stick in his throat.

Her eyes widened when she saw him. Not in shock. Not quite. More like… hesitation. Surprise layered with something he couldn’t name.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft.

“Hey,” he echoed, quiet. Tight.

His fingers slipped off the doorknob.

She stood straighter, but didn’t move. Didn’t leave. The silence between them clung like fog—thick, hesitant.

He looked tired.

She saw it in the slope of his shoulders, the set of his mouth, the pinch between his brows.

He looked at her like she might vanish.

She looked at him like she was bracing for impact.

“I was just…” he gestured vaguely toward the stairs, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Dunno. Nothin’. Forget it.”

She didn’t.

“Were you coming to talk to me?”

He hesitated.

Then—too slow to pass as casual—he nodded once.

“Oh.”

Her fingers tightened on the railing. He noticed.

There was that twitch in his jaw again. The same one from the other day. She could see him wrestling with himself.

“Can we…” he gestured toward her room. Then flinched. “I mean—only if yer okay with it.”

She nodded, wordless.

He followed her inside.

Her room smelled like her. Like strawberries and peony and something warm underneath—comforting, familiar, terrifying. He didn’t sit until she did. When she dropped onto the edge of her bed, he took the desk chair across from her, backwards, arms resting on the top like a makeshift shield.

They didn’t speak.

For a second, they just sat there.

Her eyes flitted to his face. She could tell he was thinking. Could feel the war in his head.

Say it, she wanted to tell him. Say what you came here to say.

He cleared his throat.

“I’ve been…”

He trailed off. Then tried again.

“I’ve been actin' like a dick.”

She blinked, caught off guard. Then, slowly—“Yeah. Kinda.”

He huffed something that might’ve been a laugh if it weren’t so self-deprecating.

“I didn’t mean to take it out on ya,” he said. “I just…” His hand opened, then closed. “I dunno. I get… weird. When I don’t know how to say shit.”

“Uh-huh. 'Weird' isn't exactly the word I'd choose."

He glanced up—saw the faint smile tugging at her mouth, despite everything. It made something loosen in his chest.

“It ain't about him,” Atsumu said quickly. “Well—okay. It is. But not like that. I'm not mad ‘cause ya talked to 'im. I'm mad because—fuck, this sounds so stupid.”

“Go on?"

He stared at the floor.

Then: “I didn’t like how easy it looked.”

She frowned. “What did?”

“You. With him. Laughin'. Like it wasn’t hard. Like it didn’t take effort.”

(Y/n) stayed quiet, watching, waiting...

He met her eyes again. “I don’t know how to be easy with you.”

The words landed.

Heavy. Honest.

Something in her throat tightened.

She needed to make sure...

She shifted slightly. Her legs crossed at the ankle. Her fingers knotted in her hoodie sleeve. “When you say ‘easy’, you’re not just talking about making me laugh… are you?”

Atsumu's gaze drifted to the floor again.

God, he hated this.

Hated the tightness in his chest. The erratic pulse hammering in his throat. The heat coiling beneath his skin like it was trying to crawl out through his pores.

He made her laugh all the time. That wasn’t the problem. He could make her wheeze, snort, cry real tears from laughter—he knew that. He relied on that.

But that wasn’t what he meant.

Not really.

Easy meant... simple. Uncomplicated. Clean.

Tetsu didn’t hesitate around her. He didn’t second guess every word, didn’t overanalyse every glance, didn’t wrestle with the sick twist in his gut when she smiled and it wasn’t at him.

Easy meant: no stakes.

No fear of ruining everything.

No trembling line between friendship and something else.

Whatever this was with (y/n), it wasn’t easy.

He was too aware of her. Of her presence. Of the way his heart did stupid shit when she touched his shoulder or said his name just a little too softly.

Feelings like this weren’t easy.

They were messy.

And loud.

And goddamn terrifying.

Saying that out loud took more nerve than he had in him tonight.

His eyes flicked up once, lingered on her for a second too long, then dropped again.

“No.”

More silence.

She could feel her pulse in her throat now. Her hands had gone cold.

He hadn’t said it—not outright—but she knew.

She always knew with him.

His silence said more than any overconfident one-liner ever could.

She breathed in through her nose, slow and measured. “You’re not supposed to try so hard,” she said at last. “If something bothers you, you just have to... talk to me. Like this. Like right now.”

“I didn’t know if I could.”

“Why not?”

He swallowed. “Because…”

Because I think I like you.

He couldn’t say it.

Not now.

Maybe in another universe. One where he didn’t fumble every good thing that landed in his lap. One where he didn’t ruin things before they ever had the chance to bloom.

Maybe then.

But not here. Not now.

Fear. Doubt. Pride.

They wrapped around his heart like a vice.

Whatever expression he was wearing must’ve given it away, because she tilted her head just slightly, and her voice came gentler.

“If now’s not the right time, then… don’t. I’d rather you didn’t say anything if that's the case. Just… don’t hide behind attitude. Don’t shut me out.”

And that—god—that did him in.

Because she was too kind.

Too patient.

Too good.

He didn’t deserve that softness. Not after everything. Not after the way he’d acted. Not just about Tetsu—about everything. Every time he made her doubt, every time he backed away. Every time he was too much of a coward to commit to anything more than... this.

She should be mad at him. She should be cutting him down with a few choice words and turning her back on him for good. She should be—

But she wasn’t.

She was still here.

Still looking at him like he was worth understanding.

Still giving him the grace to figure it out.

It made him feel worse.

But it also made him want to be better.

For her.

“I thought if I ignored it, it’d go away,” he said, quieter now.

She smiled—sad, knowing.

Something twisted in his gut. “It never does.”

He looked at her again.

Really looked.

And she let him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Voice small. Stripped.

A beat passed. Maybe two.

Her face didn’t change. But her body relaxed a fraction.

She nodded once. “It’s alright. We’re alright.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Really.”

She smiled then—soft and honest.

His heart pulled taut in his chest, stretched so tight it nearly gave out. But he smiled back anyway.

It was lopsided. A little wobbly.

A little too hopeful.

The silence between them softened, turned companionable—like a blanket pulled just barely up to the chin. Safe, but not quite warm.

She moved first, rising from the edge of the bed with a sigh, brushing non-existent lint off her sleeves.

“I’m heading down,” she said lightly. “Osamu’ll start mourning that stew if no one eats it.”

Atsumu stood, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. ‘Samu gets all dramatic when he’s ignored.”

(Y/n) gave a soft laugh, passing him on her way to the door.

Just before she left the room, she paused. Turned her head.

“I’m glad we talked.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Me too.”

Then, because it felt like the only thing he could do—he reached out.

Just a little.

Just enough to catch her pinky in his for a second as she passed.

She glanced down at their intertwined fingers.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t linger, either.

The door clicked shut behind her.

And Atsumu was left standing there.

Hand still curled like it remembered.

Chest too full.

Room too quiet.

And somehow, still not ready to follow.

681 notes · View notes

butyoudidthis4what · 14 days ago

Text

Perfumer

Jack Abbot x Reader

1.5k || All of my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: none I think. Hinted at sex and suggestiveness but that's about it really.

Summary: Jack smells the perfume you're wearing, flirty fluffy happy teasing ensues. That's it, that's the fic. Established relationship. No use of y/n or related. Zero proofreading of any kind. No beta.

A.N.: The summaries and titles will not be getting better I fear. After getting out some sadness in that last one I just needed something fluffy and happy and flirty. This is very self-indulgent as I love perfume and wish I had Jack Abbot giving me some and then smelling it on me, and telling me I smell good, you know? Honestly I'm quite shocked I wrote anything with like no level of angst in it that was just fluff. But my mental health needed some pure happy fluff with him so here we are. Anyway, this is exceptionally short for me and as with last time this is my first time back writing fanfic in a longggg time so please be gentle and kind and also let me know if you like it! The ending is very open, so there's definitely part two potential depending upon reception and if anyone would like.

“I should have known the trail of smell good was you. You always smell good.” Santos comments as she walks up to you while you stand by the center desk. “Do you own like a thousand perfumes or something?”

Jack’s head popped up from looking at the tablet in his hands a few rooms down from the desk at ‘smell good,’ correctly assuming it meant you were here. You can feel his eyes on you and look over at him. “Probably not a thousand, but a lot, yes. I collect them.”

“Why? Aren’t women supposed to want, like, a signature smell or whatever?” She tilts her head at you.

You start smirking but Robby beats you to it. “Oh, she has to keep Abbot on his toes somehow.”

“What does that even mean?” She looks between you, Robby, and Jack.

You bite your lip and stifle a laugh. It’s nice, having your relationship out in the open, having been able to get to know Jack’s friends. He’s still quite private though, which you respect, and know Robby is flirting with the line. You weren’t going to go quite as far, but can’t help the way it made you smile, in large part because it’s true.

It’s become somewhat of a game for you and Jack. You wear a different perfume everyday and he guesses what it is. He’s good at it, which isn’t surprising, he’s good at everything he does. It’s a nice way to have a close moment together. He likes buying them for you too to keep the game interesting.

It lets him read your moods a bit too. He’s learned that when you’re a bit down you have a tendency to go for perfumes that are heavier in a sense, more warm and comforting. And if you don’t wear perfume he knows it means things are bad because you don’t want to end up associating a smell with however you’re feeling or what you’re going through. He also swears they mix with your chemistry and smell different at certain times during your cycle. You don’t know why you found the idea of him being able to smell that on you so hot, but you very much did.

Recently you’d taken to layering some of them, in part to be creative and in part to make it more challenging for Jack.

“It means-” Robby starts.

“Okay, can we just not?” Jack asks as he walks over to you, shooting Robby a look and standing next to you.

“I just think it’s cute how-”

“Still talking.” Jack cuts Robby off.

“How the tables turn.” Robby shoots back, making Jack roll his eyes.

“I was just trying to help-” Jack starts.

“Now, now, boys, no fighting in front of the children.” You fake scold them. This time they both roll their eyes at you.

“Go back to work since you all still want to be here past your shifts.” Jack tells everyone, grabbing your hand and leading you to the doctor’s lounge.

You expect a kiss and hug now that you’re in private, but instead you’re met with him pressing his chest to your back, one hand coming to hold one of your hips and the other moving your hair off one shoulder and tilting your neck before he leans in close to breathe you in. You can feel the soft skin of one of his lips brush against you and the stubble from him not shaving for a day.

“Jack,” you breathe, heavier than you mean to, one hand coming to rest on his hand on your hip and the other reaching up to cup his face.

“Celeste,” he murmurs against your skin. He’s right so you nod. That’s the name of the perfume you’re wearing on your neck and wrists today. “No wonder Santos picked up on you. Heavy sillage.” He gives you a kiss to the neck before pulling back to spin you and give you one to the lips. You smile as he does. “Stop smiling so I can kiss you properly.”

That makes you laugh, but you’re able to control it and in turn he’s able to kiss you properly, how you deserve to be kissed. “I love that you know what that word means and actually used it. It’s kind of hot.” You give him another kiss. “I’m making my military man into a perfumer.”

He hums at you, low and from the back of the throat. He loves it when you call him yours. “If you ever told anyone I would deny all knowledge of having a clue about what sillage and gourmand and all of the other pretentiously fancy perfume related words mean.”

“I never would. Couldn’t ruin your reputation could I, Dr. Abbot? Plus I like having our little secrets.” You let your voice trail down on the last sentence, run your hands all over his scrub top.

His eyes darken just a little and his jaw tightens. He never really had any sort of title kink before he met you, but there’s something about the way ‘doctor’ slips off your tongue that really gets to him. Same with sir.

“You’re not here for an ED related reason, are you? Hurt? Sick?” It’s teasing but there’s just enough of a tinge of real concern to the question that melts you.

“I am not, no. I promise if I ever was here for such a reason I would make sure you knew immediately.” You smile at him softly, run a hand through the salt and peppery curls you love so much. “I just wanted to lay eyes on you, even if only for a moment. I missed you extra today. I’ll let you get back to work.” He nods, the little smile he gives you saying everything it needs to. You share one last kiss before going to leave the room.

“Oh,” you say, turning around and shutting the door again. “You’ve only answered half the question today. I just thought you should know.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You layered scents?”

“No.” You shake your head and smirk. He narrows his eyes a little as he tries to find the answer in your eyes. It suddenly clicks.

“Fuck me, your ankles?” He groans. “You put a different one on your ankles? Why?” He can already feel himself starting to fill out. He doesn’t know if he could articulate why he finds it so hot when you put perfume on your ankles for him to discover but he does.

Your smirk widens. “For a fun surprise and to see the look on your face when I told you.” He glances around the room and then gets a look on his face like he’s thinking. You’re shocked, honestly. It’s so out of character for him to think about trying to do it at the hospital. It’s only happened twice. “Oh no,” you laugh, “no, no, no, Jack rabbit, you are not finding out here at the hospital, so don’t even think about places you could take me to try and find out.”

He makes a noise of protest, somewhere between a growl and a whine that makes you bite your lip. He pins your back to the door with his hips and rolls them against you, grinding him into you to let you feel what you’ve done to him. “So what, I’m just supposed to go around like this for the rest of my shift?”

“Well you might want to take a couple of minutes to let that go down baby, but yes. You can finish your shift thinking about what could be on my ankles and what position it is you’re going to put me in to find out.” You press a kiss to his collarbone and his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, an unspoken command to look at him.

You pull back and do as he asked. So big on eye contact, your Jack. He blinks at you, jaw clenched. “I’m going to be half hard and uncomfortable there for the rest of my shift, you know that right?”

“I am nothing if not a cruel woman.” You say with fake solemnity as you smooth your hands over his chest. “I’m sure as you get drawn back into work it’ll go away. Plus, you know the anticipation and wait makes it better.”

He somehow steps closer to you, almost puts a knee between your legs and leans in close, dropping his voice and making his voice even more gravely. “I want you to remember those words because you’re going to find out all about them once I’m home and I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you threatening to edge me, sir?” His jaw grinds and you see the slightest twitch under your eye that makes you smirk. You love that you can affect him like this.

“I don’t make threats, Doll.” He whispers at your ear as he steps back from you and pulls the door to the lounge open for you both to walk out of. Everyone glances up at the two of you, effectively forcing you to control your reaction as he keeps his voice low, only for you to hear. “Only promises I intend to keep.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Two is here!

#jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #the pitt #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x you #jack abbot fanfic #the pitt fanfic #jack abbott fanfic #jack abbott x reader #jack abbot x you

571 notes · View notes

darkmatilda · 19 days ago

Text

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which both of you take garcia's joke about kissing to ease the tension a bit too seriously

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, reader wearing a red lipstick, elevator taking an absurdly long timepurely for plot purposes (you'll thank me for this later, trust me) kissing purr

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.7k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request

“Reid, seriously—”

“No, Morgan, listen, this actually makes a lot of sense...”

“This doesn’t fit our profile at all...”

“It changes it, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be true. The unsub could be a woman. I mean, look, just consider how clean the crime scenes were, and the fact that such precise, planned murders are more often the domain of women, just like revenge as a motive—revenge even for events from a very distant past...”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Morgan cut him off, turning his back to the kitchen counter, a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hand, steam still rising from it. He gave his drink a meaningful glance. “Right now, this is my well-deserved time to clear my head. Without that, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back to working on this case—none have drained me this much in a long time...”

He shook his head lightly, taking a sip of coffee. Reid rolled his eyes upward in irritation, but ultimately sighed, defeated. Fine. Morgan could have this fifteen minutes for his, as he called it, clearing of thoughts. But after that, nothing would stop him from giving a thorough explanation of why, in his opinion, the unsub was a woman…

“Well, what he said was actually very, very interesting,” someone spoke up.

They both shifted their gaze to the woman who had just entered the shared kitchen. Though her words expressed intrigue, there was also a certain wicked undertone suggesting a forthcoming sharp remark. Spencer had perfected sensing that by now, so he sighed heavily, clearly irritated, even before she could say anything more.

Morgan elbowed him so hard that Spencer had to grab his ribs.

“Behave,” he muttered, reaching for the second cup on the counter, which he handed toward the woman. “Good morning, prima donna. Your coffee.”

He handed her the drink he’d prepared earlier, which she took without breaking her meaningful gaze with Spencer.

“See? That’s the kind of greeting I expect”

Spencer simply snorted at the thought of him saying something like that upon seeing her. He’d probably rather spend an hour in a room with no doors or windows, forced to discuss things with a group of flat-earthers.

“Sure. Maybe everyone should just fall at your feet right away?”

She shrugged.

“If that’s what turns you on, then why not.”

He rolled his eyes, and her smirk flashed in his face before she took a sip of the coffee made just for her. Involuntarily, he glanced toward the kitchen exit, wondering if this was the right moment to leave—things hadn’t been going too well between them lately. Okay, they’d never exactly had the best relationship, but every now and then they managed to have at least five minutes of relatively peaceful conversation. And that, he had to admit—even though it didn’t come easily to him—was actually quite enjoyable. The kind of conversation you want to continue, and when it’s prematurely interrupted, you take it with disappointment.

But that wasn’t the case anymore. After their last argument, a certain electrified wall had formed between them, making every word spoken feel like an electric shock. And well, after that, when one of her comments pricked him, he couldn’t just let it slide and let her bask in that quiet triumph. He had to strike back.

Something, however, held him back from just walking out, and it was the words that had accompanied her as she crossed the threshold into the kitchen.

“What did you mean by very, very interesting?” he asked.

While Morgan stood fully relaxed, leaning against the corner of the counter, Spencer kept a more rigid posture, one hand flat on the surface. She, in turn, stood right in front of them, with one hip slightly pushed out and her arms loosely crossed over her chest. She pouted her lower lip slightly, as if thinking about what he was referring to with his question.

Spencer briefly dropped his gaze to her lips, but only because of the intense red color covering them. He focused on the edges of her mouth, setting an internal goal to find a spot where the lipstick had strayed beyond the surface, but before he could do so, she spoke again, causing his attention to shift to the rest of her face.

“Your earlier words. Planned murders are more often the domain of women, just like revenge as a motive—revenge even for events from a very distant past…” she recited with a precision that surprised him, because it meant she must have entered the kitchen before either he or Derek realized it, silently—or maybe she simply had an exceptionally good ear. After a moment of thought, both versions seemed equally likely. Meanwhile, she added, “I’m not saying you’re wrong. But I also think you’re underestimating how nasty men can be too. They can’t accept certain things. Not even from a very distant past.”

It wasn’t a bitter comment, but rather a bit mocking. And sometimes the mockery in her words could be so sharp that it forced him to retaliate, even if it wasn’t aimed directly at him.

“Sounds like you're speaking from some particularly sad experience.”

“Sort of. But not sad, more like funny.”

“You’re funny when you talk about things you know nothing about.”

“Oh, right, sorry. I forgot that now you need a doctorat to take part in a regular kitchen coffee break discussion” she scoffed sarcastically.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer noticed how Morgan tilted her head back with a heavy sigh. This was how his break to clear his mind was going—right in the middle of their verbal sparring.

However, that day, Spencer decided to abandon the role of a good friend and stubbornly pressed on.

“You’re right, you don’t need a doctorate for that,” he admitted with a nod. The woman raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for the second part of the sentence. “But considering your lack of experience in profiling, maybe you should think twice about whether it’s worth commenting.”

The corner of her mouth twitched oddly. She calmly took a sip of her coffee, leaving a faint red lipstick mark on the white cup, and looked at him again. That was when he saw it, something he’d been looking for. A slight, almost invisible smudge beyond the edges of her lips, noticeable only because she stepped closer to him to place the empty cup on the counter.

“Maybe, considering your lack of experience with women, you should also think twice about whether it’s worth commenting,” she said, her voice almost angelic.

This was the wall that was talked about earlier. And at that moment, its tension increased significantly, peaking when Spencer opened his mouth again, searching his mind for the nastiest comment he could come up with, now that he’d been warned.

“Come on, man, she’s just egging you on,” Morgan said, completely disengaged from the conversation up until that point.

She caught his glance.

“Maybe,” she replied flatly.

“First of all,” Spencer started, rolling his shoulders back, which unintentionally made him stand straighter, bringing them closer together. “I wasn’t talking about women, I was talking about an unsub who’s presumably a woman. And you should know, I have a lot of experience in this field, as evidenced by…”

“Oh my goodness,” someone interrupted loudly.

All three of them turned their heads toward the woman with a huge flower pinned in her blonde curls.

“What’s up with you two, huh? The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife,” Garcia muttered, glancing between Spencer and his conversation partner.

“Babygirl,” Morgan sighed with visible relief at her presence, as if her arrival was a saving grace. Well, apparently it was. She was saving him from remaining a passive participant in this heated discussion. “You should’ve said you were coming, I would’ve made you coffee…”

“Oh, I’m cutting back on caffeine. But that’s sweet of you,” she replied.

“For you, always.”

Penelope didn’t pay much attention to his words, still focusing her gaze on the two of them to the point where Spencer started to feel uncomfortable. A small smile appeared on her, funny, also red lips.

She slid a finger between them, giving her head a slight shake.

“You know, something just crossed my mind,” she said mysteriously. “Lately, it’s scary to get close to you two, the tension is that thick. You know what might help ease it?”

“A knife fight in medieval style,” the woman suggested without blinking an eye.

“If we’re talking about the Middle Ages, it would be more likely to be swords or spears,” Spencer automatically corrected her.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged.

“Not that I’m endorsing it, personally my suggestion would be to change jobs…”

“Kiss.”

They looked at Penelope as if she had just revealed that she arrived at work today on a unicorn.

Even Morgan was staring at her.

"It really works, I'm telling you," she added with a convincing nod. "You know, the line between hatred and sexual tension is often thin. So if you want to ease the former, you should approach it in a different way. One kiss won't hurt you, and you'll immediately feel the difference. And most importantly, we’ll feel the difference. It'll finally be bearable to be around you."

Before either of them could say anything or react, applause rang out.

"That's genius," Morgan said with admiration, to which Penelope flashed him a grateful smile. "Beautiful, funny, and smart. Tell me, how do you do it?"

"Years of practice, my dear," she replied with a wink.

Spencer cut in between them with a loud sigh.

"There’s no psychological or scientific proof that something like that would work," he pointed out.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Mr. Smartypants," she muttered under her breath, letting out a small snort. Her gaze fell on the clock hanging in the kitchen. "I have to go. This wasn’t exactly a pleasant coffee break. I mean, the coffee was excellent," she turned to Morgan, who was still clearly amused, before heading out.

Morgan gave her a polite bow. Before her figure had fully disappeared, Penelope snapped her fingers in Spencer's direction.

"Right, I forgot to tell you, JJ was looking for you to…"

And just like that, the two of them found themselves standing in front of the elevator doors, silently waiting for it to reach their floor. She was heading back to her lab, and he to wherever Jareau happened to be at the moment. Spencer’s gaze dropped uncertainly to her profile before he could stop himself.

Of course, she caught it and gave him a small nod.

“What’s up? Planning to yell at me for daring to question your expertise in profiling an unsub who’s presumably a woman?” she asked.

Spencer hated—truly hated—how often she managed to mock him using his own words. She didn’t even have to put in the effort of coming up with anything original.

He didn’t respond, so she added:

“Or maybe you’re actually considering that medieval knife duel idea?”

The absurdity of the conversation pulled a short huff of laughter from him.

“Well, you’re getting warmer,” he admitted.

“Warmer? Oh, so you have been thinking about what Penelope said.”

“What? No!”

At last, the elevator doors slid open, and she stepped inside in one smooth motion, turning to face Spencer as she did. The bright light inside made the small space feel even tighter, forcing them into a proximity that gave him full view of every detail on her face.

Yes, including that tiny spot just beneath her lower lip where her lipstick had gone ever so slightly outside the lines. Probably the lighting was what made it stand out so much. So much that he found himself wanting to point it out.

Or, hell—just wipe it off himself.

Some kind of perfectionist urge had just hijacked his brain.

He stood turned slightly to the side, avoiding her gaze, and after a prolonged moment of silence—during which he felt the pressure to say something—he drew in a deeper breath.

"Or you know what, actually, I was thinking about it," he admitted. He admitted it truthfully, though not in the way she seemed to expect, judging by the sudden lift of her eyebrows.

"I was thinking about how completely ridiculous it is. How there's no way something like that could actually work."

She shrugged lightly.

"Well, I think she had a point."

He looked at her in disbelief, which made her roll her eyes and expand on what she meant.

"Tension is tension, whether it’s from hate or attraction. So if you think about it, a kiss could technically solve the problem."

Her voice was indifferent, even bored—like the idea of kissing him didn’t stir anything in her, not even mild discomfort. Spencer noticed that. And for some reason, it left him with a weird kind of feeling.

He shook his head, brushing it off—and making it clear he disagreed.

"Whether it's from hate or attraction?" he repeated, internally just a little satisfied that, for once, he could throw her own words back at her—something she usually had the upper hand in. "That’s absurd. Bullshit, actually. I hate every serial killer and worse person I come across at work. Would a kiss change that, too?"

She muttered something unintelligible under her breath. For a second, Reid thought he’d actually cornered her—brought her to that rare, mythical moment where she might admit she was wrong. That she’d made a mistake.

But instead, she tilted her head slightly, locking him in that sharp, unrelenting gaze of her—the kind he always found annoyingly hard to break away from.

“I think you’re missing one crucial difference,” she said, quieter now, almost in a purr. “I’m way more attractive than any of the serial killers you deal with on a daily basis.”

Spencer sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides. The structure of her sentence left him with no option but to agree with her. In fact, she wasn’t just more attractive than the serial killers he encountered on a daily basis. If he looked at it objectively, without any bias, she was one of the most attractive people he knew.

Which led him to an odd thought—was it even possible to measure attractiveness objectively, without any subjectivity involved?

It was a strange thought. And he had to say something to drown it out.

"Still, I think it wouldn’t change anything," he said, trying to sound convincing, as though he was absolutely sure of himself. Because after all, he was sure, right?

"Well, I think differently," she replied briefly. "One of us is wrong, and we can argue which, but there’s only one way to find out."

He looked at her with his eyebrows raised high.

"You're kidding me."

"No. If I'm right, then I’m right, and everyone around us will benefit. If you're right and nothing changes, then it won’t change anything. But maybe at least you’ll stop staring at my lips."

Spencer felt a wave of embarrassment flood over him, so surprising that he didn’t know what to say. He also didn’t know what to say because, well, he had been staring at her lips.

"Seriously, you thought I didn’t notice?"

"That...that's because you have...you have lipstick...I mean," he pointed at the corner of his own lips, trying to explain non-verbally what he meant, what he really meant by staring at her so blatantly.

Her slight smile, but surprisingly without mockery. Which didn’t make him feel any less embarrassed.

"If it bothers you that much, wipe it off," she said again in that damn irritating, indifferent tone.

He sighed heavily. He wondered if there was anything he could do to get rid of the nonchalance in her presence for at least once. Her words were so laced with a challenge. A certain certainty that he wouldn't do it. Certainty that they'd keep staring at each other in silence until the elevator stopped, and then she would slowly, almost lazily, turn her head and leave, imposing, from that moment on, a certain superiority, a certain triumph, a certain dominance over their future interactions.

He winced at the very thought of it.

A barely audible, delicate chuckle escaped her lips. A minimal tilt of her head, as if she was about to turn away. Was he really that slow, or was he perceiving this in such a strange, dazed way?

He sighed again, this time also closing his eyes.

And when he opened them, it was only for a brief moment, just to catch that confident look of hers one more time. Then he lowered himself slightly, just enough to gently connect their lips. And it wasn’t as light as it could have been. Well, it was a bit deeper than an innocent brush, but as soon as she increased her pressure, Spencer immediately pulled away, feeling an overwhelming urge to smack his head against something.

Well, he thought, he’d hoped it would give him some dignity in this situation, but that wasn’t the case.

For a moment, he avoided her gaze, but he knew sooner or later he'd have to face it. Honestly, he'd probably rather be in the middle of a knife fight.

Her face expressed...absolute disbelief?

"What the fuck was that supposed to be?" she asked loudly, throwing her hands up.

Spencer nearly took a step back, completely not expecting such a reaction. The shock made him forget his embarrassment for a moment.

"What’s your problem?" he asked, defensively.

She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her head slightly. Still the same look of disbelief.

"Was that supposed to ease the tension?" she scoffed. "That? Who are you, a shy fourteen-year-old kissing a girl for the first time? Wait, never mind, a shy fourteen-year-old would probably do it in a more passionate way—"

The mockery in her voice was almost unbearable for Spencer, who was already feeling humiliated. So, he decided to silence her in the only way that came to his mind in the moment. He did so by suddenly crashing his lips into hers, eliciting a brief, surprised sound from her. However, it was immediately cut off, or rather, more accurately, drowned out.

In his mind, there weren't many logical thoughts, except for one very specific one. Despite his closed eyes, he vividly remembered where her lipstick had slightly smeared outside the edge of her lips, so he focused his attention entirely on that spot, on her lower lip.

Until now, he had been under the impression that lipstick had no taste. However, the one she wore had a sweet flavor, vaguely reminiscent of vanilla. But he quickly lost interest in the vanilla taste on his lips when something entirely different grabbed his full attention—her tongue, confidently reaching out for his.

Only when he was forced to take a breath through his nose, and the oxygen finally reached his muddled brain, did he realize that his hands were no longer stiffly by his sides, as they had been during the first...well, it's hard to call it that, but the first kiss. He hadn’t noticed when her cheek came under the pressure of his fingers, and for a moment, his mind even wondered if it had been too much—he wasn’t controlling anything that was happening to him.

But that worry evaporated almost immediately upon its arrival, specifically at the moment he felt something tugging at his neck, not in a particularly gentle manner.

Her hand firmly pulled him closer, completely ruining the rhythm of the kiss they had been managing to maintain so far. From that moment on, everything fell apart, caught in the clutches of ugly chaos, but neither of them was concerned with something as trivial and insignificant as aesthetics.

In all of this, even his own breath had taken its place among the trivial and insignificant things, though the consequences of that affected him a little more.

More specifically, in such a way that when her lips pulled away from his, the first gasp of air was accompanied by a embarrassingly eager sound. Still with her hand on his neck, she didn’t seem concerned by it. Her head tilted to the side, towards the open elevator doors. Spencer didn't even glance to see if anyone might be standing there, staring at them in disgust.

He didn't recognize himself, but somehow it didn't matter at all—instead, his eyes kept locked on her lips, right in front of his face, so close that he felt a hungry tingling on his own, urging him to lean in again.

But instead, she pulled back, giving a slight nod towards the open doors.

"This is my floor," she announced.

Where did all that damn nonchalance come from, when just moments ago she had been gripping his neck so tightly that if her hands had been just a little lower, she could have accidentally strangled him?

So much damn nonchalance, when her hair was sticking out messily on one side, where his fingers had dug into it?

So much damn nonchalance, when she said:

“Well, I guess we’ll soon find out who was right.”

Her words echoed in his mind long after she left the elevator, leaving him alone in that strange silence and with that odd feeling of dizziness that almost made him stumble when he took his first step down the hallway on his floor.

But then he forced himself to blink sharply, shaking it all off.

He had to remind himself who he was—a grown man with an IQ of 187.

He approached JJ when he was completely sure there was no trace of it left on him. His usual walk, his indifferent face. No shifting field of vision, no rise or fall.

“Were you looking for me?” he asked.

His friend looked at him strangely. He didn’t know what she meant. She knew him well, but was it to the extent that she could read what had just happened from a traitorous flicker in his eyes?

JJ covered her mouth with her hand, awkwardly stifling a laugh.

"Spence, I don’t know if you realize this, but you're all covered in red lipstick."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #diva reader ♱#spence reid #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid x reader

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fandomshenanigans · 1 month ago

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Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Neglected!Batsib!Reader

After getting over the initial disappointment that you might not get the kind of family you wanted, you took stock of your situation and found that you actually like this arrangement

You were already a self sufficient from the start and had a life outside of the Manor so it didn't suck too bad

Before Damian was introduced, you spent your evenings in the Manor, either in the library or just wandering in the garden

After Damian came around and made you aware of your "position in the family", suddenly you applied for a part time job in a 24/7 coffee shop and worked the night shift. So you're barely home now

(Plus, you gave the more important stuff you owned to your closest friend to keep so nothing in that room held anything meaningful to you.)

You had dreams for college, wanting to get out there and learn, create a career of your own, everything

You also remember your mother mentioning how she hopes you might be the first in her side of the family to attend college so there was also a sense of duty that made you so eager to reach that milestone

Except..

Suddenly, Bruce's attention was on you. Suddenly, Dick was the most eager to spend time with you. Suddenly, Jason is visiting the Manor, just for you. Suddenly, Tim is more interested in you as a person. Suddenly, Damian is nicer, though just a bit.

Suddenly, you're part of the family.

There were too many changes that it made your head spin but you managed to catch up with the change so now you're just going with the flow

Honestly, this just reminds you of how you dealt with creeps at the coffee store. Just do as they ask to placate them but firmly stand your ground.

If they ask for a smile, you smile at them before excusing yourself. If they ask for some time, you tell them to give you a moment and rearrange your schedule to fit them. (Though you did immediately reject them if they try to take a whole day with you. You had a schedule and you'd be damned if you let them mess that up.)

This continues on for a couple of months and you were simply continuing to indulge them whenever they tried to "make up for lost time"

Until you told your dad about your plans for college.

You had been doing so well at school, your grades were perfect and you were a great student, according to your teacher. You mention to him how you wanted to attend this one college in Metropolis since it had the best science programs

"You're not going to college. At least, you can't go to one that far."

.......huh?

"Maybe choose one that's closer to home? Or better yet, you don't have to go."

Ex-fucking-cuse me?

You gripped the collar of his stupid shirt, glaring into his eyes with pure hatred as you screamed at him, demanding to know what the FUCK that meant.

You demanded to know why is he trying to pull this on you. Was this some twisted power play?

Bruce tried to calm you down, claiming that wasn't what he meant.

But you cut him off before he could bullshit you further.

"Are you that ashamed of me, Mr. Wayne? Am I that much of a stain to your family name that you'd rather keep me locked up so no one can see me? Is that what you're trying to say?"

Then, you dropped him like a hot potato and stormed off

After that revelation, you stopped eating. Stopped taking care of yourself. Stopped going to classes because what was the fucking point? You're not going to reach that milestone in your life so why bother? You simply locked yourself in your room and refused everything.

Everyone is in a panic because it's been WEEKS since you've left your room, since you've started to rot in your bed.

They all did their best to coax/lure you out. But nothing was working.

"I'm sorry, please, just open the door. You can go to college in Metropolis, just like you wanted, okay? I'm sorry for denying you, please." Bruce pleads.

Then, the door opens and now you're hugging him, accepting his apology before you're running off to clean yourself up.

You're back to being the sweet yet distant sibling, who's smile to them was simply for show, who's more interested in anything other than family.

Might continue this but yeah, this is an idea that popped into my head.

#neglected reader #platonic yandere batfam #batfam #yes batsib is hella manipulative here

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scoupsakakitty · 2 months ago

Note

this is probably annoying since the last couple of requests have been about 14th member BUT i saw a tiktok earlier today of a girl pranking her brother with a fake hickey so i was wondering if you could do the same but with seventeen obvi :D

The Fake Hickey Prank | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

The living room was a mess of snacks, controllers, and half-empty soda cans as Seventeen settled in for a night of gaming. The usual chaos filled the dorm—Seungkwan arguing over game rules, Mingyu trying (and failing) to organize the snack table, and DK already too invested in whatever was happening on-screen.

"Y/N! Get over here!" Jeonghan called from the couch, stretching his legs across two cushions. "You’re on our team, and we’re starting soon."

"Coming!" Y/N’s voice rang out from the hallway, but there was a slight delay before she finally entered the room.

The moment she stepped inside, Seungkwan’s eyes immediately narrowed. "Wait. What’s that on your neck?"

A hush fell over the group as everyone turned to look.

Y/N, seemingly unaware of the attention, strolled over casually. But it was too late—Vernon, who had been lying on the floor, sat up slightly to get a better look. "Yo… is that a—"

"A HICKEY?!" Hoshi practically shouted, pointing at her neck like he had just spotted an alien.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, and she raised a hand to her neck, fingers brushing over the suspicious mark just below her jaw. "What? No—"

"Oh my god." Seungkwan clutched his chest. "Who? When? How?!"

Joshua blinked. "Guys, calm down, it’s probably just—"

"WHO DID THIS?" Seungcheols voice boomed, cutting Joshua off entirely.

Jeonghan sat up properly, arms crossed. "You better start explaining. Right now."

"Wait, wait, wait—" Y/N took a step back, hands raised. "You guys are overreacting."

"Overreacting?!" Dino gaped at her. "You’re too young for this!"

"You’re literally younger than me," Y/N shot back.

"That’s not the point!" Dino huffed, clearly flustered.

Woozi, who had been quiet up until now, let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples. "I don’t even know what to say."

"Say that you’re disappointed," Seungkwan whispered dramatically. "That’s what she deserves."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "You guys, seriously—"

"Who is he?" Mingyu suddenly asked, looking personally offended. "Tell me. I just want to talk."

"More like fight," Vernon muttered.

"No one’s fighting anyone!" Joshua interjected, but the others weren’t listening.

"Wait, were you on a date today? Is that why you took so long to come back?" DK’s eyes widened as if the pieces were finally coming together. "Oh my god, guys, she was out earlier—"

"IT’S A BURN!" Y/N finally shouted over the noise.

The room fell silent.

"...Huh?" Hoshi blinked.

Y/N exhaled sharply, dramatically pointing to her neck. "It’s from my curling iron. A burn. Not a hickey."

"Oh." Seungkwan sat back down slowly. "Ohhh."

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

"YES. What kind of person do you think I am?!" Y/N huffed. "I was literally doing my hair, and I accidentally burned myself!"

Woozi squinted. "That… actually makes sense."

"Wait, hold on." Vernon, ever the skeptic, tilted his head. "Then why didn’t you just say that from the start?"

Before Y/N could respond, Jun furrowed his brows. "Wait a second... but your hair is straight."

The entire room went dead silent once again.

Seungkwan’s jaw dropped. "Oh my god, HE’S RIGHT!"

"Y/N." Jeonghan’s voice was dangerously calm. "Did you lie to us?"

Y/N bit her lip, her expression faltering for a second before she suddenly grinned. Without another word, she raised her hand and casually wiped her fingers over the ‘hickey’ on her neck. The makeup smudged instantly.

The boys collectively gasped.

"NO WAY—" Dino practically shrieked.

Y/N burst out laughing. "It was a PRANK! I saw it on TikTok and wanted to see how you guys would react!"

The dorm exploded.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Seungkwan looked personally betrayed.

"DO YOU KNOW THE STRESS YOU JUST CAUSED?!" Mingyu groaned, falling back onto the couch.

"I ALMOST STARTED LOOKING UP HER LOCATION HISTORY!" Hoshi wailed.

Meanwhile, Y/N had collapsed onto the floor, clutching her stomach from laughter. "Oh my god, your reactions—priceless!"

Jeonghan, shaking his head, finally chuckled. "Okay, that was kind of good."

Joshua sighed. "I knew something felt off."

Seungcheol, however, was still glaring. "You’re lucky this was a prank, or we’d have to have a serious conversation."

Y/N just grinned, completely unbothered. "Guess you’ll just have to wait until next time."

Seungkwan pointed dramatically. "There will be no next time!"

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luffydotcom · 17 days ago

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may I please request a Luffy x fem reader where they encounter an enemy who’s devil fruit makes people reveal the truth which ends up with Luffy confessing his feelings for the reader and leaves him all embarrassed and the rest of the crew in shock. maybe he even says something along the lines of “I think y/n looks cute when she’s wearing my straw hat” idk, I just had this thought I hope it makes sense cause I feel like it would be super adorable! thank you!!

this is so cute! i had a lot of fun writing this too. honestly... i did find this a bit of a challenge because luffy's so honest and not good at lying in general! but i tried to make it work anyhow. i hope this is alright!

also sorry that this is so overdue, i swear i didn't forget about your request anon!! i've been so busy with college assignments but i swear i kept thinking of writing up your request when i got the chance the entire time 😭

truth be told

pairing: luffy x female! reader warnings: none! word count: 778

you know luffy is honest to a fault - always speaking his mind and it's like you always know what he's thinking. yet there is one thing he hasn't told you - that he likes you. seriously, too. and it's because well... for someone so to-the-point and forward with his words... even he isn't sure how to say it to you.

you've just arrived on a new island, and once again he's already managed to stir up trouble by attracting a big number of marines towards the crew when they recognised his straw hat.

while you're busy fighting off some of the marines, you miss one of them in particular - the captain. his expression is cunning and dark... and you don't even see how quickly he is approaching luffy from behind until he's inches away from him.

"LUFFY!" you call out to warn him as you see him knock a straight punch into a whole line of marines with ease. but when luffy whips around to face you, the captain clenches his hand on luffy's shoulder.

"HEY! what're you doing, you -" luffy manages to break free of his grip without much trouble, but he's interrupted when he feels chills all over his body.

the captain lets out a dark laugh. "you'll see soon..."

luffy still hasn't moved from his place, as if he's completely stuck, and his face is empty of any kind of readable expression. you run over to him, afraid he'll get hurt, but within seconds you see zoro is already there and has cut the enemy down as he falls to the ground in pain.

"oi, luffy! what's gotten into you? snap out of it!" he grabs luffy by the shoulders and starts shaking him. by now, all of the enemies are on the ground and you and the rest of the crew rush to join their side, looking concerned for your captain.

luffy doesn't say anything at all, dead-silent. until suddenly the light returns to his eyes.

"what happened? i just got a funny feeling all over my body!" luffy looks down at his hands as zoro releases him and breathes a sigh of relief.

"that guy must have done something to you," nami says, thinking back to what happened just moments ago.

"maybe he had some kind of devil fruit... do you feel any different, luffy?" you ask, looking worried.

luffy turns to face you as if he's just noticed you were there. "about you? no, i still love you."

everyone's jaws practically fall to the floor, even luffy's.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" the whole crew, including you, gasps in unison.

"CRAP! WHY DID I JUST SAY THAT? IT WAS MEANT TO BE A SECRET!" luffy yelps and covers his mouth with both hands.

"WHAT? between who?" you move away in complete shock, hands shaking.

"MYSELF!"

you want to laugh but you're absolutely blown away by how straight-forward that confession was, even for luffy. heck, you just wanted to know if he was OK. you weren't expecting him to say that he loves you.

"sanji, i just wanted to say i ate all the ingredients for today's lunch," luffy says, deadpan, before covering his mouth again in surprise. "also, nami, i used some of our money to buy more meat -"

"WHAT? HEY!" sanji and nami have to get held back by usopp.

"something's clearly wrong." zoro steps forward, tapping luffy's forehead with his finger. "it's like he can't stop saying the truth. and that guy definitely has something to do with it." he looks down at the collapsed marine on the ground.

"wait, so luffy... does that mean you're serious about what you said about y/n?" chopper's eyes shine with eagerness.

you glance at luffy, but he hesitantly looks away from you, attempting not to meet your eyes. you couldn't believe it. for the first time in your life, your captain actually looks... embarrassed?

"...i just think y/n looks cute when she's wearing my straw hat..." luffy mumbles so that you can just about hear him.

"how long have you been hiding this...?" your mouth parts slightly in surprise, although you feel flustered by the unexpected compliment.

luffy starts to count on his fingers. "i don't know, but definitely a while now." he almost looks guilty. "i just didn't know how to say it!"

"perhaps it doesn't matter how you were meant to say it," robin chuckles. "you've said it now, haven't you? even if it was by strange circumstances."

luffy takes in what robin has said, then looks at you with his confidence returned. he smiles widely. "i'm glad... i don't know how much longer i could keep that to myself!"

#one piece #luffy #x reader #luffy x reader #fanfic #luffy x you #one piece x reader #anime #strawhats #op luffy #monkey d luffy #one piece luffy

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 1 year ago

Text

✨Feathers✨

Hey hey hey, I’m back! Took a tiny break but I had another idea for a spicy Luci scenario! But this one is super tender cuz Luci needs some TLC like nobody's business! 🥺

This turned out a little more dom!reader then initially planned but I'm happy about it

Big thank you to some of the anons I received for the ideas! I very much appreciate everyone who's given anything I've written their love!

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer's wings are not in the greatest shape, you offer to help clean them...

Warnings: 18+, smut, handjob, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, cockwarming, dom!reader and sub!lucifer if you squint

It had been a pretty quiet day in house. Lucifer was off with his daughter Charlie for the day, they’ve had quite a bit of father/daughter bonding to catch up on. But this gave you the chance to work on something that you’ve been wanting to make for some time now. It was a secret project, keeping things from Lucifer was harder than it seemed. But with the home to yourself, you were finally able to finish the gift you wanted to give him! Just as you were admiring your work, a portal opened up behind you; Lucifer was back! Quickly, you hid his gift under your pillow before he could see anything. Lucifer stepped through the portal and into your bedroom; you noticed his wings spread out behind him.

“Hi, honey,” you greeted as you walked over to him, planting a small peck on his forehead. He smiled, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on it in return. “How was your day with Charlie?”

“It was really nice! We went for a little flight, as you can tell,” he laughed, gesturing to his wings. Lucifer’s wings always left you in awe, you couldn’t help but stare at them. But upon further inspection, you saw that they seemed a little worse for wear. You wondered when the last time they were properly taken care of, since you've never seen him actually do anything with them.

“Hey Luci, your wings are looking a little…” you hesitated, looking for the right word, “disheveled. Is everything alright?”

"Ahh," Lucifer sighed, "yeah, I uhh...I'll admit, I haven't paid them much attention. Not in a long while."

You knew that he had been by himself for a long time before you came along. He had mentioned his battles with self isolation and depression that he had fought against for years, but he was never too keen on going into more detail than necessary. Looking back, it would make sense as to why his wings are in the state that they are. It saddened you, you wished you could have been there for him. It was time to make up for that.

"How about this," you proposed, "why don't I run us a bath and I'll help you clean them up. How does that sound?"

"O-Oh, are you sure?," he questioned, failing to hide the fact that his cheeks were now flushed. "They're kind of a pain, I don't want you to-" you cut off his protests with a peck. You felt his lips curl into a smile.

"Nothing's a pain when it comes to you, Lucifer," you assured. "Go get ready and I'll see you in a few minutes, alright? Tonight, let me take care of you."

"Of course," he grinned, "thank you, my angel."

*** Lucifer saw you smile and make your way to the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom. As soon as the door closed, he let out a long sigh. It really had been years since he’s taken care of his wings. It was a lot easier when there was someone there to help. When Lilith left, it became a much more daunting task. He began to undo his button up shirt, tossing it onto the bed and moved on to undoing his belt. But suddenly, he stopped once the buckle had been unhooked. Shit, he thought to himself, realizing he’d forgotten how sensitive his wings were, my wings being touched are drive me insane! I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together, especially not after years of just letting them go! He sucked in a few deep breaths and continued removing the belt from his pants. It’s fine, it’s fine…as long as I don’t make a noise or turn around. Just focus, Lucifer. For Satan’s sake, you’re the king of Hell!

Lucifer undid his zipper, letting his pants and boxers drop to the floor and kicking them off to the side. Unfortunately, he could already feel the blood rushing between his legs in anticipation. No, no, no!, he scolded himself, we’re not doing this. We’re getting our wings washed and we’re going to bed! I’m not letting this turn into anything other than a nice bath! She CANNOT think I’m just some touch starved pervert! I’m not! He inhaled deeply and ran his fingers through his hair, trying his best to calm down. After a minute, he made his way to the bathroom, placing his hand on the knob.

“I’m so fucked,” he whispered to himself before slowly opening the door.

*** It was fortunate that Lucifer had such a spacious home, that meant a more spacious bathroom as well. His bathtub could easily fit four people comfortably, but this at least gave you room to be able to work with his wings. You turned the water on to a nice warm temperature, making sure it wasn't too hot. You undressed as the bathtub began to fill, grabbing a soft washcloth from the closet and bubble bath soap after discarding your clothes. Once the tub was half full, you poured the soap in, letting it mix with the running water. The bubbles appeared fast, you couldn't see that water anymore after a few seconds. Finally, you brought the flow to a stop and dipped your toes in to test that waters. Perfect. You stepped in and slowly began to sink down into the warm liquid that heated your core. Lucky for you, his tub had seats along the sides so you could sit comfortably instead of sinking to the bottom! As soon as you were submerged just below your shoulders, you heard the bathroom door creaking behind you.

"Knock, knock!," Lucifer joked, hitting the already opened door with his knuckles. You chuckled as he closed the door behind him. Not that it was a new sight to you, but his naked figure never ceased to make you blush, as if he were perfectly sculpted. You shook your head, trying your best to focus on his face and not let your eyes wander anywhere else.

"Alright, let's see what we're working with," you stated, prompting Lucifer to conjure his wings once more. As you looked them over, you could tell it would take a little bit of time to clean them properly, but you were more than willing to help. You shifted over to the edge of the tub and offered Lucifer your hand. Smiling, he took hold as you guided him into the water with you. He sat down next you, turning his back so you could start working on his neglected feathers.

"Thank you for this," he spoke softly as you took the washcloth and began to work on his first set of wings. "I really don't deserve it, or you..."

"Luci, don't say that," you cut in, "I love you, and I want to help you. I'll always be here, I promise."

You heard him hum in response. He had a lot more feathers than you originally thought. You wanted to take your time, combing through every feather from his first set as they were the largest. You moved your attention down to his second set of wings after a few minutes. You were both quiet for a while as you continued your ministrations, running the washcloth thoroughly through each of his feathers, ridding them of any dirt. However, the sound of Lucifer's breathing becoming heavier with each passing minute did not go unnoticed by you. Wings were very sensitive areas after all. A tiny smile crept on your face. You had finally moved on to his last set of wings. They would be the easiest to take care of since they were the smallest, but you wanted to test your suspicions before you finished.

"Almost done," you hummed, "you doing alright?"

"YEAH, yeah," Lucifer answered almost too loudly, "I-I'm fine."

"That's good," you responded, gripping his feathers with just a little bit more force than necessary. You heard a small whimper escape Lucifer's throat, his hand shooting out of the water to cover his mouth. Bingo. "You sure you're alright, hon?"

"M-Mhmm," Lucifer mumbled into his palm.

"All clean," you purred, causing Lucifer's wings to disappear in a flash.

Lucifer stood up a little too fast trying to exit the tub, his back still towards you. "Thank you love, I really really appreciate you doing that for me, but I'm kind of tired so I'm gonna-" You didn't let him finish his sentence, grabbing onto his hips and pulling him into your lap, causing a large splash. "D-Darling, what are you doing?"

"And where do you think you're going?" you questioned, letting your hands run down his hips and towards his thighs. You heard Lucifer's breath hitch as your hands roamed dangerously close to his hard on. "What's the matter, baby? Were you hoping I wouldn't notice that you were getting turned on by all my touching? How cute."

You let your hand wander until you finally gripped his hardened cock. Lucifer could only let out a strangled yelp. All too pleased, you began to stroke his cock at an agonizingly slow pace. Lucifer tried to buck up at your touch, but your other arm was wrapped around his abdomen, keeping him flush to your chest. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Now why would you try to hide this from me, Luci?,” you teased him as you began peppering kisses along the back of his neck.

“Hhng…I-I’m sorry, love,” he swallowed, “it…shit…it’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t h-have had that reaction while you were…ffffuuucckk…” He completely trailed off, only being able to focus on your movements. You had only picked up your pace slightly since you started, you wanted to make this last as long as possible. But unfortunately, you could feel your own arousal start to pulse between your legs. Without warning, you let go off his cock, causing to Lucifer to whimper at the loss of your hand. You swiftly stood up and hooked your arm under his legs, carrying him bridal style out of the tub. He looked up at you with a mixture of shock and arousal. Once you were fully out of the tub, you placed him onto the white marble floor.

"Stay," you commanded. Lucifer held his arms down at his sides, completely immobile. You sauntered over to the rack and grabbed the two fresh towels hanging there. After opening the bathroom door, you dried off your soaking body as quickly as you could before making your way back over to Lucifer with the other towel in hand. You patted his hair down first, then moved to his face and shoulders, working it down to his chest and stomach. You avoided touching the area he needed you to touch the most and finally finished by drying off his legs. "Get ready," you told him as you stood up straight once more. Before he could respond, you scooped him up in your arms again with the towel placed underneath him. You couldn't help but smile down at him once you say how flushed his face had gotten. You effortlessly carried your lover into the bedroom and placed him down on the edge of the bed. You took the towel and placed it on the floor, giving your knees some much needed cushion from the hard wooden floor.

"Sweetheart, p-please," Lucifer said, finally finding his voice again, "you don't have to-" You gently wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, cutting him off mid-sentence. He could only yelp in response.

"I told you that I would take care of you tonight, did I not?" you replied with a coy smile. "That's exactly what I intend to do."

You lowered your head and gently pressed your lips to the head of his cock which was already covered in precum. Your tongue circled the tip, causing Lucifer to grip the sheets beneath him, not being able to focus on anything else. You relaxed your jaw, forcing your mouth down onto his shaft as far as you could manage. You didn't want to choke, after all! You absolutely adored the sounds leaving Lucifer's lips, desperate moaning and incoherent babbling. You quickened your pace, your hot mouth leaving trails of saliva down your hand. You felt Lucifer's legs begin to shake.

"L-Love," he choked out, "if you don't stop, I'm g-gonna...FUCK!" You didn't stop bobbing your head up and down. If anything, it only made you work faster. You felt his hands reach out to your shoulders, seemingly trying to push you away, but he wasn't trying very hard if that was the case. You refused to budge. "OHFUCKME," was the last thing he could mutter before his orgasm hit him, spilling his hot seed into your mouth. It was salty, but not unpleasant. You kept your mouth firmly on his cock as he rode out his high. You felt him soften in your mouth and you finally removed yourself from him with a *pop*. You caught some of his cum on your finger that had leaked from your mouth, licking it clean. Lucifer caught you doing so and buried his face in his hands.

“You’re going to kill me one of these days, darling,” he mumbled.

You chuckled, pulling his hands away to see his bright yellow eyes staring back at you. “I don’t think I have that kind of power!"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," Lucifer sighed, "my wings are very...sensitive to say the least. I completely forgot about it until it was too late. I thought I could tough it out, but umm, that's clearly not what ended up happening. I didn't want you to think I was some maniac who couldn't control himself..."

You brought your hand up to his cheek, caressing it softly with your thumb. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. " You don't have to apologize to me, Luci, it's alright," you comforted. "Besides, seeing you so worked up is extremely hot!"

"Pfft!" Lucifer laughed, picking up on your attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, I'm glad you think so! I was dying the entire time in there!"

You smiled at him and got up from your kneeled position." Do you feel better now? Got it all out of your system?”

"Not quite," he breathed.

As if to take revenge from your stunt from earlier, Lucifer grabbed you by the hips and pulled you on top of him. "HEY!," you protested, but it was already too late; your cunt that's been aching for attention was now perfectly hovered over Lucifer's maniacal grin. Without warning, he pulled your legs down towards him and began to lick up your folds vigorously. His tongue attacking your clit with every lap he took. Your arms gave out almost immediately, forcing you onto your elbows to keep yourself propped up while the dirtiest moans filled the room. "Fuck...Fuck Luci, you feel s-so good...SHIT!," you cried out. His forked tongue worked at your sensitive nub relentlessly, causing the pit in your stomach to tighten. You weren't going to last much longer at this rate, he was too good and he knew it. Every time he ate you out, he always acted like a starving man who would never taste you again. It only took a few more nibbles at your clit before your walls spasmed uncontrollably, cumming hard against his tongue. He hummed in approval as he helped you ride out your orgasm, swallowing every drop of you. You managed to crawl away from him and plopped chest down on your mattress.

"You're insatiable, aren't you, Lucifer?," you teased, still trying to catch your breath.

"And you're irresistible, aren't you, my angel?" Lucifer joked back. He sat up straight against the pillows next to where your head laid. You couldn't help but notice that he was rock hard again. It filled you with pride to know just how much tasting you on his lips could illicit such a response. A thought popped into your head at that moment, your lips forming into a devious smile. You weren't going to let him have the last word. He was done for.

You pushed yourself up from your prone position and straddled Lucifer's lap, leaning down and crashing your lips into his. He moaned into your kiss, licking across your bottom lip, almost like he was begging you for access. You opened your mouth wide and felt his tongue slip past your lips, deepening your kiss. To his dismay, you pulled away from him, panting and breathless. You lined up your entrance with his cock, sinking down onto him in one quick motion. Both of you moaned at the sensation, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. Lucifer eagerly started to buck his hips into you, but you had other plans. You let the rest of your upper body weight fall onto his hips, rendering him immobile.

"Wh-what are you doing?," Lucifer whined as he tried desperately to rut up into you to no avail. "Please...please, need to move...."

You adored him in this state, begging and pleading for you to let him chase his release. "Teaching you a lesson," you grinned, shifting your hips every so slightly and making him bury his head into the crook of your neck.

"PLEASE! Please, I'll do anything!" Lucifer begged, his breathing becoming more and more labored. "Whatever you want!"

"I want you to promise me something, Luci," you cooed, placing your hand under his chin and lifting his head to meet your gaze. "Promise me that you'll come to me if you need help from now on. And in return, I'll promise you that I'll always be there whenever you need me. Do we have a deal?"

Tears welled up in his eyes at your words and the lack of stimulation. He buried his head into your chest, wrapping his arms around you. "YesyesyesIpromiseIpromiseIwill," he sobbed. You smiled and kissed the top of his head, his blond hair brushing against your face.

"That's my good boy," you praised. You decided to end his torment by lifting your hips and slamming back down on his cock at a break neck pace. His wanton moans went straight to your core, you knew another orgasm was fast approaching. He bucked his hips up into you, his cock hitting your G spot just right with every thrust.

"So close...sososoclose," Lucifer whimpered in your ear.

"L-Let go, baby," you choked out in your cock drunken state, "c-cum in me, Luci, pleasepleasePLEASE!"

Lucifer leaned down and bit into your shoulder, muffling his cries as it only took him a few more thrusts before spilling his seed into you. His bite pushed you over the edge as well, pulsating around his leaking cock. You both took a minute to come down from your highs, neither of you wanting to pull apart. At last, you pulled yourself up and out of Lucifer's lap and completely collapsed next to him. You reached over the edge of the bed and picked up the towel from earlier, handing it to Lucifer so he could clean himself up. You were about to fall asleep when you remembered something important.

"OH!," you shouted, startling Lucifer a little bit. "I almost forgot! I made you something!" You reached under your pillow where you had hid his gift from earlier. You pulled out a small duckling keychain with the words "My Little Duckling" beneath it. You passed it to Lucifer who cupped it in his hands, staring at it like it was made of diamonds.

"You...you made this...for me?," he stammered, completely enamored with his present. He clenched his fist around it and held it up to his heart. "I...I love it so much, darling! This is the best gift I've ever received! I'll cherish this forever! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He pulled you in for the tightest hug he's ever given you while peppering small kisses all over your face. You giggled and managed to capture his lips before he could get another peck in.

"I'm really happy you like it," you smiled. "We'll figure out where you can hang it in the morning, yeah?"

"I'd love nothing more, my dear" Lucifer grinned. "But for now, let's get some sleep, shall we."

You nodded and yawned in agreement. You shifted yourself flush against Lucifer's chest, letting his arms wrap around you. You felt his tail wrap around you leg right before you lost consciousness, letting you know he would never let you go.

~~~~

IT'S FUCKING DONE BABY, LET'S GOOOOOOOO

#lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer smut #lucifer morningstar x reader #my writing #lucifer's silly faces make a return!

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medusas-daughter · 18 days ago

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Maybe it's just me but I don't think the adults' dynamic is such a stretch, talking specifically about their relationship to Shauna.

Nat was not civil to her at any point except while they were cutting up Adam's corpse because she knew, intimately, that no matter how psychotic Shauna is that part sucks. Otherwise there was clearly animosity there that is finally explained in my eyes.

Van carries so much guilt over the cards and Mari and who knows probably one or two more hunts before they get rescued, she probably didn't think she deserved to be on any kind of high horse so she would be civil. They were never really friends but she would be civil when they meet again.

Tai wanted to stay as much as Shauna. So anything Shauna does afterward, Tai sees herself as complicit. And she thinks Shauna's behavior is like her split personality, something the wilderness brought on. So post rescue she would be Shauna's bridesmaid, why would she refuse. And then she builds a life away from everyone including even Van, and over the years she forgets. And when the blackmail starts again she would just be friends with Shauna, they all did fucked up things after all and why would she play the Fuck up Olympics.

Misty just smiled when Nat called her a psycho, because she knows that's called for all things considered, but she takes it very personally when Shauna calls her a psycho. Because Misty knows Shauna is way more psychotic than she is and she doesn't see where Shauna gets the nerve to judge her. And now it makes sense why she would think that. But Misty would be civil to her because Misty is civil to everyone, especially to someone who could be a threat to her, keep your enemies close and all that.

Lottie is Lottie tbh, other than her death I don't have anything to criticise about adult Lottie or the way she behaves towards any of the Yellowjackets.

And Melissa faked her death, like I first thought it was a bit dramatic but after the s3 finale and the failed coup and knowing Shauna perhaps more than any of the others, she would be terrified at the idea of Shauna getting bored of her family life and deciding to go back to her ways. Again it makes sense.

Travis literally changed his name. He only ever stayed in contact with Nat and even she didn't know where or who he was for quite a while by the time he dies. After all the empathy and care he held for Shauna, he literally bled if it meant it could keep her alive he was grateful for her friendship with Javi, he thought he had no claim to grief in comparison to her, and post rescue she never heard for him again not once. After the s3 finale and her comments about Javi and her leading them into another hunt and her making them stay, it makes sense that he would do everything to get away from all of them.

Like I hope we get enough scenes post rescue to see the seeds of the adults' dynamic but I really don't think it's such a stretch that half of them went off the grid while the other half just stayed cordial or even friendly. Like yes Shauna did some fucked up things but let's not pretend like she's the only source of every evil in their life. I mean I love Tai, but Shauna being the reason Nat died? Come on girl, I support your coup because two queens fighting is gonna be hella entertaining to me as a lover of women but let's not pretend Shauna is the only fucked up one in that group.

#yellowjackets #shauna shipman #shauna sadecki #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #taissa turner #tai turner #van palmer #lottie matthews #travis martinez #melissa hat #medusasdaughter

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doctorruby · 4 months ago

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Forever Love

General Audiences | Words: 3,753 | TW: Sexual Harassment

Buck misses Tommy. He always misses Tommy. He misses him when he’s in the bathroom, when he’s at work, when he’s sat across the table and their feet aren’t touching. Buck is self-aware enough to know that he has a problem. But this time, it’s serious.

He’s drunk. And Tommy isn’t here.

And they’re fighting.

He’s just a little past tipsy in a gay bar where the music is too loud and the floor is too sticky but the rainbow flags in the window give him this fuzzy feeling in his chest. It’s nice, knowing he has a community, having a sense of belonging. Having something he didn’t know he was missing, being with people who are like him. It’s queerness and tacky rainbow tank tops and seeing color for the first time and breathing in and out without the weight of something missing sitting on his chest.

“Dude, this place is great!”

Oh, Eddie’s here too.

They started the night at Eddie’s house. Buck ran to Eddie the minute he slammed the front door of his and Tommy’s new house and jumped in his Jeep.

He doesn’t remember what the fight was about, not just because the alcohol was kind of making it hard to remember details, but because it was really about nothing in particular. Or maybe it was about everything. All the little things like Tommy leaving his shoes in the doorway and Buck forgetting to load the dishwasher. One bad shift, a few small jabs, and then suddenly they were screaming at each other. And then Buck ran.

They had moved in together three weeks ago. The first two weeks were bliss, but now a heavy storm cloud has settled over their home. Buck thinks about the honeymoon phase everyone was warning him about and he aches to go back to it. He remembers when he used to think Tommy had never done anything wrong and if he had, there were perfectly reasonable explanations for it. But now he’s seeing him in more varied colors than just rose-tinted ones. And he’s realizing Tommy is having the same revelation. They're more themselves, more adult, messier and complicated. And Buck’s terrified.

But he’s also pissed.

“Can you fucking believe he yelled at me for something so petty?” Buck had said, pacing around Eddie’s living room, “It’s like he wasn’t even listening to me.”

“Well, didn’t you also yell at him?”

“Who’s side are you on?”

A small, petty part of him was smug about getting to Eddie before Tommy did. The last few fights they had, Tommy had been the one to storm out and seek solace in the Diaz home. This time, Buck ran before Tommy had the chance. He had been happy to share his side of the story and Eddie was a kind enough friend to realize Buck needed to vent his very biased account of things, nodding along and giving support where it was needed.

Then came the beers. Then the bars. Then Buck spotted those rainbow flags in the window while stumbling along the sidewalk and told Eddie that if he was a good ally, he would follow him in and let him blow off some steam.

Except now, he’s kind of running out of steam. He misses his boyfriend and the guilt of raising his voice is starting to dampen his mood. He feels regret souring on his tongue and it’s diluting all the endorphins that were released from doing shots with Drag Queens earlier in the night.

Eddie’s still going strong though. His hair is kind of messy, glitter decorating his pink cheeks, a goofy smile plastered across his face. He lost the button up he started the night with so now he’s rocking a white tank top that shows off his arms nicely. Needless to say he’s getting a lot of attention- attention that he’s either ignoring or oblivious to.

“Dude, dude, why don’t we come here more often? Why do we go to the sad bar for straight people when we could come here instead? Everyone’s so nice!” Eddie is starting to shout in his ear a little bit.

“You can just come here on your own, you know,” Buck suggests.

Eddie shakes his head, “I don’t wanna… um-” he cuts off, snapping his fingers, “intrude! I don’t wanna intrude. Do you think if I ask Josh, he’d take me? He talks about feeling weird coming to bars alone all the time! OH!” Eddie gasps, like he’s had a great idea, “Should I text Josh? He could come down here, it’d be great!”

Eddie starts to take his phone out before Buck stops him, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eds.”

Eddie waves him off before the song changes and suddenly he’s disappearing back into the crowd of swaying bodies. Buck should probably try to keep an eye on him but he’s busy silently mourning the quiet night in with his boyfriend he was going to have. Then he starts to mourn the night he wanted to spend distracting himself from his own grievances with said boyfriend, trying to drown out the voice telling him how badly he fucked things up. Now, he’s playing babysitter to giddy-drunk Eddie.

“Don’t you look lonely.” Suddenly there’s a body pushing against his side and alcohol-ridden breath wafting over his ear.

He reels back, cringing at the close proximity. He huffs and takes another sip of his beer.

“Oh, what, you’re gonna give me the cold shoulder?” The guy moves closer again. “Come on, what’s got you so down?”

He ignores him again, trying to turn his body away. The guy slides a hand against his side and fingers the hem of his shirt. Buck shoves him off.

“Fuck off,” Buck growls, and then for good measure, “I’ve got a boyfriend.” Who he misses. God, he wishes Tommy was here.

“Well, I don’t see him anywhere. Must not be a very good boyfriend, then.”

Buck starts to get defensive, opening his mouth to speak, before the words jumble in his throat. It’s a little hard to think coherently, but what comes to mind are images of Tommy making him dinner after a long shift, scrubbing his hands through his soapy hair in the shower, kissing his birthmark before bed every night. He’s not sure how to articulate it, all the feelings rising in his throat at the claim that Tommy isn’t a good boyfriend, a good partner, a good person.

“Buck! Buck, listen, man, you gotta try this drink- oh, who’s this?”

The guy scoffs as Eddie suddenly reappears from God knows where, “Really? This guy?” He points at Eddie.

Eddie looks behind him wildly, “Who?”

Buck thinks briefly about drowning himself in one of the bar toilets. Then decides he’d be getting out of this too easy, and this is probably karma for ruining the great thing he had going with Tommy.

“So you’re his boyfriend?” The guy is now directly talking to Eddie.

There are several looks that pass over Eddie’s face. He looks like he’s solving a puzzle for a second then there’s a little twinkle in his eye and then he straightens his back with determination and pride, “Yep!”

Buck chokes on his own spit, “What?”

“Hey, I’m Tommy, Buck- no, Evan’s boyfriend.” He looks immensely proud of himself, “So, bye. He’s taken. By me, Tommy, I’m a great pilot and subpar at Muay Thai. So leave us alone.”

The guy apparently has decided to double down on being an ass, though, “Really, you could do so much better.” He’s turned back to Buck now. “Why would you ever choose to be with a guy who can’t hold his beer and makes an idiot of himself in public?”

“He’s not an idiot!” Buck throws his hands in the air. He’s not sure if he’s defending Tommy or Eddie here, but they’re kind of blurring into one person right now.

“What do you have going for you anyways, bro? I’m a pilot!” Eddie decides to puff his chest out a little now, shoving his hands in his front pockets. Buck realizes he’s trying to mimic Tommy’s mannerisms, much to his own horror. Now is probably not a good time to mention that this guy doesn’t actually know what Tommy looks like, therefore he doesn’t actually need to pretend to be Tommy. But his heart clenches at how hard Eddie’s trying anyways. “A firefighter-pilot!” Eddie continues, “Those are like two of the hottest professions you can have. I also do Muay Thai, although not as good as my amazing friend, Eddie, but still very good.”

“Wow, self-obsessed much?” The guy tries to touch Buck’s arm, “Come on, don’t you wanna ditch him? Do you really think this guy is gonna give you what you need?”

“What do you know about what he needs? I’ll have you know that we live together, actually!” Eddie is starting to shout again, “It’s going great. Or well, it is, isn’t it?” He turns to Buck.

“What?”

“It is going great, right? Like we’re still happy, aren’t we?”

Buck thinks of Tommy at home right now, sitting on the sofa in his stupid, sexy reading glasses. He’s probably still fuming from the fight. Buck pictures him biting his nails, a habit he’s tried to kick. He whines a little in the back of his throat at the thought of being his point of stress. His bones ache to curl up in bed, head tucked into Tommy’s shoulder, feeling Tommy’s arm gently graze over his spine. He thinks about moving around the kitchen with him, seamlessly in tune with his every move. He thinks about coming up behind him and pulling Tommy back’s flush against his chest and kissing his hairline.

“Yeah, of course, we’re still happy.”

“Do you really have to ask?” The guy asks smugly, quirking an eyebrow.

Eddie’s still looking at him though, eyes searching, “I worry about that sometimes, you know? Like,” he breathes and makes a decision, “sometimes I’ll talk to our friend, Eddie. And I’ll tell him how much I love you, but how scared I am that I don’t make you happy enough. And it doesn’t matter how many times I-or Eddie tells me that you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, I’m scared you’re gonna wake up and realize there’s something else out there for you. At least, that’s what I tell Eddie. And I swore him to secrecy too, I made him promise not to mention that to you because I don't want you to think I’m a burden or anything. And because Eddie is such a good friend, he promised he wouldn’t say anything but I think now Eddie is getting tired of watching us both think the other one could do better. That’s how Eddie feels. Cause we’re both great, you know. Best friends he’s ever had.”

“Is that how uh- you really feel?” Buck asks, “You think I’m gonna find something better?”

Eddie nods, lips pursed, “Well, it's not like- I don't think you're gonna just walk out with some fuck-face you meet at a bar,” he gestures to the guy still standing there confused, “but I think I’m more worried you’re going to realize I’m not what you want. That it's too hard, I guess. And we've been fighting more and more recently and it's really getting to me, man.”

“I just feel like you keep shutting me out, though. It's not the little things that get to me, it's the fact that every time I try to talk to you about it, you just shut down.”

“Okay, I get that. But I think if I had to say why I do that, it's because I’m scared that if we really start to talk about it, you’ll come to the conclusion that you won't want to put up with me.”

“Tommy, I’m trying to build a life together, I’m in this, all the way. And don't you think I’m scared, too? It's like you’re not listening to what I’m telling you.”

“You talk about how you don't feel listened to, but it’s never really clear what you’re saying,” Eddie throws his hands up and clears his throat awkwardly, “I think.”

Buck stops to consider that. He’s tried to tell Tommy how he feels, how scared he is he’s gonna fuck it up. He still feels like he’s a guest in Tommy’s home, not because of anything Tommy’s done per say. He thinks maybe he’s still trying to walk on eggshells, not make too many waves. So he beats around the bush. He points out Tommy’s shoes in the doorway when he’s made a point to put his own in the closet, clearing his throat when he picks them up and puts them away. Tommy glances at him and hums, looking away.

It always made Buck feel like Tommy’s just tolerating him- putting up with his “clipboard” tendencies.

“Okay, I guess you have a point. I’m not actually that mad that you leave your shoes wherever you take them off, or how you leave dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, or that you always make the bed too tight. Like, I don't care about those things. I just- fuck, I don't know. It feels like it's still your house, and I’m still living out of a few drawers and an overnight bag.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, “Do I make you feel that way?”

Buck sighs, “Not on purpose, I don't think. I think it's just a lot of other bad experiences with living with people I’ve dated and yeah, maybe, it feels like you keep erasing the mark I’m trying to leave. I keep trying to get you to put your shoes in the closet, and you just won't.”

“I thought you said you weren't really mad about that.” Eddie seems like he’s having a hard time following their relationship lore.

“It's not that. It's more that all of the little things I’m trying to do to make it feel like ours, you’re just not having.”

“Have you ever told me that? Like in those words? Cause from where I’m standing, I think I’m just trying to give you your space and stay close to mine.”

“I don't just want my space and then your space, I want our space. I want to have things we do together, systems we can agree on. Not just because it annoys me when you don't follow my rules, Tommy. I don't want you to feel trapped with me.”

“Well, I don't want you to feel suffocated. That's what I told Eddie.”

Buck breathes in a small sob. He’s always been an emotional drunk.

“I love you, all of you. Even your messiness. I just want to feel like you're in this too. I’ve had a lot of shitty relationships where I'm the only one putting anything into it. And you’ve always felt different. Like I could actually get attached to you. And it feels like you're pulling back.” Buck sinks in on himself, heart breaking at the idea that Tommy’s falling farther away.

Eddie looks pained, but enlightened, “I think I’m pulling back because I don't want to pressure you. I think I’m really, really into you, dude. And it's scary to put so much of yourself on the line. I think I’m afraid I was putting too much of myself into this, and you're gonna get exhausted.”

“Exhausted with what?”

“With how much I love you. With how amazing I think you are. With how I think I’ve decided I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” Eddie finishes.

“Okay, what the fuck does all that mean?” The guy is still just standing beside them.

“Bro, go away.”

“Like why are you even still here?”

The guy walks away, muttering something about them being exhausting and a waste of his time.

“He’s said all to you?” Buck ducks his head, not wanting to look Eddie in the eye.

“Some of it, yeah,” Eddie nods, wrinkling his forehead, “The feeling like you're too much of a good thing, wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, generally feeling like shit whenever you fight, yeah, we talked about all that.” He hiccups, “Some of it I improvised. I know both of you pretty well by now, and I’m tired of constantly going back and forth between you whenever you fight. Especially when you're saying the same thing. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

Buck waits for him to elaborate. Eddie rolls his eyes. “You guys are committed. It's just that you're both being really, really stupid about it. And living with another person is hard, especially when you’re trying so hard to keep so much of yourself in. You’ve got to open up a little, man. And so does he, but I think the first thing you gotta do is talk.”

“Hm. I should probably go home.” His head is starting to hurt and he feels like throwing up or passing out or crying, and he doesn't want to do any of those things outside of the comfort of his own home.

His and Tommy’s own home.

Eddie's eyes light up again and Buck had the exact same thought at the exact same time, “Uber!”

Eddie falls dead asleep on the ride to Buck and Tommy’s house. When they arrive, Buck profusely apologizes to the Uber driver for all the snoring and retching.

Eddie leans against his shoulder as they walk up to the door. Buck notices a wreath that wasn't there before and remembers talking about decorating the house for the holidays early. Tommy hadn't been completely sold on the idea at the time but there it was, displayed on their front door. It felt like a peace offering in of itself.

He fumbled with his key and accidently locked the already unlocked door, which Eddie laughed at for the full minute it took him to realize and then unlock the door again.

“Shhh. He’s probably asleep.”

“Evan?”

“Oh shit.” Then Eddie falls on the floor somehow. Buck isn’t really paying attention to whatever Eddie’s issues with gravity are. The moment he sees Tommy standing in the hallway in his sleeveless red top and sweats, he bolts and throws his arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Buck mumbles into his neck.

Tommy sighs and hugs back, “I know, baby. I’m sorry, too.”

Eddie stands back up, celebrates quietly to himself for a second, and then redirects his attention to Buck and Tommy, “Hey, Tommy.” He waves politely.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“I don’t wanna be Buck’s boyfriend anymore. You can have him back. You’re both so complicated. Josh wouldn’t be so complicated.” Eddie starts mumbling to himself, swaying back and forth on his feet while fiddling with the leaves on the plant they have in their entrance.

Tommy seems to take a second process of what he just said and is doing mental gymnastics to decipher it, “What?”

“There was this guy, right? And he was kind of an asshole about it. So I pretended to be you, so he would leave Buck alone.”

Buck feels Tommy’s chest rise with jealousy, “A guy was messing with you?” Buck is man enough to admit that the heat in his voice does something for him.

“Mostly just being annoying.” Buck shrugs, arms still tied around Tommy’s neck.

“Hey, don’t worry. I defended his honor.” Eddie pounds a fist to his chest and then stumbles over to the couch.

Tommy worms his way out of Buck’s grip so he can close and lock the door and then turns back, “So, we’re good, then?”

Buck smiles, shoulder’s rising to his ears, laughing a little. He’s back to feeling giddy, a rush of love flooding through his chest, “Yeah, we’re gonna be great, Tommy, I promise.”

Tommy smiles and gravitates back to him, slipping an arm around his waist and kissing his collar bone.

“No funny business while I’m still here.” Eddie turns over on his side, tugging the throw blanket off the back of the couch.

“We gotta talk, though.” Buck traces a finger down Tommy’s chin, parking it in the little divot that used to taunt him. He has a cleft, Buck giggles again.

“About what?” Tommy goes still. His arm freezes up and the soft, gooey feeling in Buck’s chest gets a little chillier.

“I know about your annoying habits and you know about mine. We need to talk about ‘em to move past ‘em”

“And what if when we talk about it, we can’t find a way to move past it.” Tommy says quietly. For a second, Buck feels like he’s looking at himself. The facade of confidence cracks and suddenly there’s a lonely boy in a cold, empty house that starts to leak through. Buck’s chest hurts thinking about little Tommy. He was lonely and afraid. Buck remembers that feeling like a ghost whispering up his spine and he hates it. He hates that he ever thought this wasn’t something he could have. He hates that Tommy thought he’d be lonely and afraid forever. He hates that they both did.

He hates that Tommy feels like that right, standing in their home, in each other’s arms, where it should be safe from old wounds and lingering ghosts.

“Hey,” Buck’s finger on Tommy’s chin tightens and he brings his thumb up to force eye contact, “Don’t do that, please.”

Tommy shudders.

“Tommy, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you and you,” Buck grabs Tommy’s face with both hands, “Tommy, you are my forever love, okay? Your bad habits are not going to get in the way of that. You’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

“Forever love, huh?” Tommy muses.

“If you let me, I wanna be your forever,” Buck places his index finger on Tommy’s lip, swiping. He wants to reach forward and never let go.

“Gladly,” Tommy leans over to bridge the gap, connecting their lips. They kiss for what feels like an eternity, with Eddie's snores as background music. Tommy slides an arm around Buck's waist and gently guides him to their bed.

Tommy kisses his birthmark and covers him with their warm cotton sheets they had picked out together. The bed is still too tight but he’ll tell him in the morning. They’ll talk, fight a little more, cry, and make up. They’ll fight for it, even when things get hard.

They fall asleep wrapped gently in love. Forever love.

#3000 feels like a lot for a tumblr post but ehhh i want it here too #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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suzukiblu · 3 months ago

Text

WIP excerpt behind the cut; “the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“It usually involves taking care of the sub for a little while–like if they need to recover or if the Dom needs something to calm themselves down doing, for example–but there’s other ways and reasons to do it,” Tim says, stroking his hair just a little bit more carefully as Kon once again tries and fails to figure out what the fuck he’s feeling right now. “That’s just what most people think of first when it comes up. Supposed to just make it easier for everyone to come up and level out, basically.”

Tim’s been petting him all this time, Kon realizes, biting the inside of his lip again.

And then he realizes–Tim’s also been the only one talking to him about this. Like, the “polite intel-collecting/light interrogation” kind of talking, but definitely only Tim doing it. So, like–Tim thinks this is something to be careful about talking about, and apparently so does Bernard.

. . . weird, Kon thinks, ducking his head just enough to hide his mouth against his folded forearms as he bites his lip outright, and doesn’t know how he feels about that either.

He thinks maybe they’re doing that–“gentle” thing again, though, even though they’re not even actually fucking around right now. Like . . . like just being in bed together at all is reason enough to do it, or something. Like it’s just–like it matters enough to keep doing it either way.

Kon knows exactly how he feels about that, but that’d be a lot more than just “mortifying” to admit.

“Um . . . sorry,” he says, half-worrying about what Tim means by needing to calm himself down. The times he’s tried to Dom made him all anxious and nervy and filled his head up with even more useless circling thoughts than usual, so like . . . does that happen to Tim too? It hadn’t seemed like it was, but . . . “Should I be–doing something for you, you mean? Because I can–”

A flash of stress flickers across Tim’s face, and Kon cuts himself off and feels a little–stupid, maybe, like he’s said something wrong or just messed up something obvious or . . .

He bites his lip harder and a weird little–reflex, almost, has him glancing towards Bernard for . . . he’s not even sure why, just . . . Bernard would know what Tim needs right now, wouldn’t he? Like–he’d have to, right?

Bernard’s still just standing by the nightstand and the breakfast tray, but the moment Kon looks at him he gives an easy shrug, scoops up the middle plate, and manages to neatly deposit it in Tim’s lap even as he lays down on his other side, stretched out on his own stomach and propped up on his elbows. Kon feels–something, kind of, and thinks about how that puts them both kinda . . . parallel to each other, kinda. Just . . . mirrored, a little, both lying on either side of Tim where he’s sitting against the headboard.

That’s . . . kinda something he feels something about, yeah, but it’s another one of those “something”s he can’t seem to really pin down, because everything he thinks it’s making him feel is, like . . . not actually something that makes sense for him to be feeling.

Kryptonite, he remembers abruptly. Right. So like . . . that. That’s probably . . . why he thinks he’s feeling . . . that kind of thing. Like–how Kara was saying, and all.

Right?

“Yes, you should be lying right there and letting Tim fuss over you for a while,” Bernard informs him matter-of-factly, crossing his ankles behind himself and resting his chin in one hand. “He likes doing the fussing. Though personally post-subbing is literally the only time I don’t wanna cuddle, I just wanna eat the fridge and pass the fuck out on the couch, so it’s really always been an unfortunate waste of the opportunity for me and also, like, not Tim’s favorite way to spend a scene’s afterglow either.”

“Oh,” Kon says, mildly bemused by the idea of passing out on the couch after subbing instead of cuddling up with someone in bed. Like–wanting to pass out on the couch, at least. Like, that is just very much not how he feels after subbing, is all. But, well . . . if that’s all Tim needs from him . . . like, it’s not exactly an imposition or anything. “Seriously? Just . . . the fussing?”

“Seriously,” Bernard confirms with a nod without bothering to lift his chin from his hand. “He literally always wants to do the fussing. Like he is definitely the ‘needs to calm down’ guy, and also the ‘subtly make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt or upset you when you were too high on endorphins to communicate it’ guy.”

“Yeah, sounds like Tim,” Kon says, lifting his own head a little more again just to spare Tim a wry look. “‘Shit, that went way too well, lemme get all Bat-paranoia up in here and overanalyze the whole thing’.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Tim says, looking a little wry himself, and Kon–like, yeah, he’s teasing the guy about it, because when would he not take the opportunity to give Tim shit, but he still definitely feels some shit about the fact that Tim would bother worrying about him like that. Like–the “gentle” thing again, he guesses. It’s just . . . not something he needs, and obviously Tim knows that, because a) invulnerable and b) they’re literally just fucking around for the weekend, it’s not like they’re doing anything serious or whatever, but the fact that Tim’s bothering to do it anyway is just . . . yeah.

He just–doesn’t have to, is all. He doesn’t have to, but he still is. Still is, and still told his boyfriend to be.

“You are a total Bat, but fuck if I'm gonna complain about scorin’ some free attention,” Kon tells him with a teasing smirk. Even if “getting attention” wasn’t half the foundation of his core personality, getting Tim’s attention would still be a goddamn treat, any time. Like–it always is, seriously. So yeah, Kon is in no way above indulging in a little extra of it. As far as doing something for Tim, it’s basically the easiest thing the guy could possibly ask for. Normally Kon’d say it was the best thing the guy could possibly ask for, even, but given the radioactive gay space rock currently influencing his tastes and his preferred flavor of his favorite pastime, any current contenders for the “best” thing Tim could possibly ask for would definitely need the other’s dick to get involved again.

Like. To the fucking hilt levels of involved, specifically.

Definitely to the fucking hilt.

“Jesus, that noise is fucking adorable,” Bernard mutters under his breath, which is the only reason Kon notices himself purring again, which–oh. That wasn’t, like . . . on purpose or anything. Generally he tries to avoid any of the “don’t sound entirely human” vocal tics, though admittedly he probably does purr the most. Just, like . . . usually he decides to let himself do it, is all.

“Vegas party favors don’t do ‘adorable’, man,” he hums around another purr, because . . . well, Bernard seems like he’s kinda into the purring, so it’s not like he’s gotta, like–stop, or whatever. And Tim’s heard him do it before and not gotten weirded-out, so . . . so it’s whatever, yeah. No big deal or anything.

Anyway, it feels nice to, sometimes. Especially when he feels like this does it feel nice to.

And, like, extra-especially when Tim’s still petting his hair for it.

“I think I can literally feel the bed vibrating a little,” Bernard says, looking low-key delighted about it. “Definitely tell me how I earn this level of purring while TTK-cuddling, because that is very much my new goal for this long weekend.”

“Mmm, s’secret lore, man,” Kon hums, letting his eyes close as he settles in a little heavier against the bed with a pleased little buzzing feeling in his gut and along his skin. “You gotta grind enough hours to level up and earn it.”

“I will grind on you for all the hours that standard-build human stamina can handle and Konami code your ass if I gotta,” Bernard swears, and Kon laughs into his arms. Why is this dude so funny, Jesus.

“That sounds kinda fun, what’d that involve?” he muses speculatively.

“Some very specific and very decisive button-pressing, pretty much,” Bernard says, and Kon laughs again. “Maybe some converter cables and a rumble controller.”

Kon sniggers. Goddammit, the bastard really is so funny, what the fuck.

“I think the gay space rock’s done plenty of converting, but if you really wanna plug something in . . .” he hums, making a point of stretching out a bit more against the mattress, and accidentally purrs a little deeper without meaning to.

“Desperately, yes,” Bernard says, sounding very feeling about it. So like, that’s another nice little bit of flattery. “Hey babe, how long do I have to wait to plug and play with your bestie? Like, ballpark it for us.”

“Maybe eat breakfast first?” Tim suggests wryly. “I hear the chef makes pretty good waffles.”

“Honestly they’re pretty mid compared to the cake that’s currently taking up a truly impressive amount of real estate in this bed,” Bernard replies frankly, making a point of reaching across Tim’s legs to grab Kon’s ass and give it a pointedly appreciative jiggle as he says “cake”, and Kon laughs helplessly into his arms. But, like–also tilts his ass up into said hand, obviously. Like, just a little. Bernard’s nice enough to give it an appreciative squeeze in response to that, so Kon figures that’s a win. “On that note, Tim, your bed is just not worthy of this long weekend, you really should upgrade. Like, no rush or anything, just maybe by Valentine’s Day. Your birthday at the latest.”

At this rate, Kon isn’t gonna manage to stop laughing long enough to eat a single damn waffle.

#timberkon #timkon #konbern #timbern #kon el #conner kent #tim drake #bernard dowd #superboy #dc robin #wip: think pink #dom/sub

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jjoongstar · 4 months ago

Text

𝕷𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑

➸pairing: grim reaper seonghwa x innocent fem reader

➸genre: fluff, angst

➸wc: 3.4k

➸warnings: none. mentions of nicknames. death

➸a/n: an apology post for being mia for a while (please forgive me). not proofread!😔🫂

you sat by the window seat in your bedroom, reading a book while you bask in the evening sun. a soft blanket over your lap to keep you cozy and a cushion behind your back. you were so into the story that you didn't bother on what's happening appearing, in your bedroom.

a tall dark figure appeared suddenly in your room and it approached behind you in silence. you sense the presence and looked over your shoulder right before the figure could touch you. its pale hand was near to your shoulder but it halted when you noticed its presence.

silence fills the air as you attentively tried to figure out, who or what even is this peculiar figure. tall and lean with a long black cloak that covers the top of its head and its whole body, only revealing its face and hands. you stare back at the eyes that bore into yours from the start. though he had an intimidating look, you didn't fear him at all. instead, you felt at ease with its aura.

"i really like your eyes,"

"what?" the unknown figure was taken aback by your words and he stumbled backwards a few steps.

its face contorts in a shocked expression and it felt its heart thump when you smile at it. it clutches the fabric of its robe over its chest, feeling the weird sensation. what the hell is this? i don't have a heart!

you marked the last page you read and place the book aside before you make small steps towards the unknown entity. your smile never falter as you reach up your hands and graze your fingers across its cheek. cold. his skin was iced cold on your fingertips. you saw how the entity hitched its breath upon your touch.

"you're so pretty too. who are you?" there was no response as it was still in a stunned state. you gasp when your brain connected the dots.

"are you perhaps… an angel?!"

"huh? EW NO!" it felt disgusted by your assumption of its identity and grabbed your wrist, shoving it away harshly from its face. when you winced in pain, guilty flooded its mind.

"sorry, i didn't mean to hurt or scare you," its raspy voice speaks again.

"you didn't scare me, why would i be afraid of an angel like you," a pretty face like that, who on earth would be afraid?

"first off, I'm not that kind of angel you think i am. also, everyone fears me, so why are you…smiling?"

"there's nothing scary of you angel!" you said giddily and beams a wider smile at him.

"stop calling me that!" it said through gritted teeth and eyes blaring in flame. but you kept that smile on your face, yet you felt more intrigued over this unidentified presence.

"then do you have a name i should call you? oh my name is-"

"i already know who you are. there's no need for introductions when…you're gonna…huh?" the last words from it fades slowly when you wrap your arms around its middle and your eyes full of gleam, looking at it from below.

its shaky hands tried to push you away but the way your face was full of admiration and eyes glimmer in hope, it tugs another string at its non-existent heart. i guess it wouldn't hurt for my name since she's gonna die either way.

"seonghwa. call me seonghwa,"

"hwa!" his name sounded so beautiful too, it matches his face really well and you felt so happy that he finally gave his name to you. you hugged him a bit tighter than before.

"no, seong…hwa," he emphasised every syllable of his name.

"hwa!"

"seonghwa,"

"HWA!" he sighs in defeat and lets you win. however, he felt his body getting relaxed when you have him in your hold. for once, he felt…comfort.

"now dear, the reason I'm here is to-"

"to accompany me!" you cut him off and release him from your grasp as you went to your wardrobe.

he tried to speak up in defense but you ignored him as you dress yourself up in something warm and suitable for an outside occasion. you grab his wrist and drags him towards outside. even though he is bigger and much stronger than you, he felt like he should just let you take him to wherever you wish. that is, to take a walk outside.

he kept on babbling he doesn't want to to this, but he still kept on walking beside you because your hand felt so soft touching his, and you never let go of his hand. after a while, you got used to his skin temperature. cold, but soft.

you pass by your neighbor's house and the owner greeted you. being your usual self, you gleefully greeted back with a wave of your hand.

"I'm here with a friend today," you tug seonghwa to show off to the old lady, but she had a concerned look instead of the expression you hoped for. was she not happy with the new friend?

"oh uh dear, i bet your friend must be as lovely as you are, i hope…. you go get along now," she mutters out the words carefully in a sentence. hoping she doesn't hurt your feelings.

you continued your journey with seonghwa and truthfully, you felt a bit sad that the lady didn't greet seonghwa too. does she not see him?

"no one can see me accept you," you turned your head over him surprised with his sudden response. can he read minds?

"well, let's say, magically, i do can read your mind, but just yours," he chuckles and you felt your heart flutters upon hearing him.

"so you are an angel!" you stopped in your tracks and tugs on his arm.

"not so, well, sort of, actually I'm a…uh…I'm…" he tongue refuses to mutter out the words as he saw the way your eyes sparkles in adoration and hope at him. he didn't have the heart to say the truth when you're like this. but you kept the smile on your face, waiting for his full response.

"yea, i am what you call that," he sighs.

"angel hwa!" you finally release his hand and you skipped your way back home. you've never felt so happier to eventually got a friend, an angel at that. that's what you thought he was.

seonghwa on the other hand, his lips formed into a small smile on his face, his eyes admiring you from behind. she looks so adorable. what the actual fuck? he slaps his own face, realizing his own actions.

you made yourself dinner and even made extra for seonghwa. he doesn't have to eat, but seeing your efforts in the cooking, he force the whole dish down his throat. he sat beside you and prop his chin with the palm of his hand while he admires you enjoying your meal. he likes the way you would squirm in joy and praise the food in every bite.

so cute. what the hell seonghwa?! he snaps himself out and clears up his throat. then tells you to clean yourself up for bed. you happily obliged to his orders with a happy stomach.

once you made yourself in bed, seonghwa tells you to sleep, but you only whine back at him as you were not that sleepy yet. seonghwa sighs and sits down beside you on the bed, he leans his back to the headboard.

"sleep now or you'll be cranky next morning," he pulls the blanket over your chest, tucking you in.

"but i don't get cranky," you whine again with a pout. seonghwa's lips betrays him once again with another smile and he caresses your head gently. yea, a pure soul like yours would never be in that state. a pure soul. SOUL!

seonghwa's eyes widen and found himself in a daze again and snaps out of it quickly. your eyes never left seonghwa's beautiful face. you want to admire it your whole life. you finally felt the drowsiness crept in when you yawned.

"will i see you again next morning, hwa?" you ask him with lidded tired eyes.

seonghwa hesitated at first. should he tell the truth or should he kept on lying? he bit his lip, before responding to you.

"yes, you will. that is if you close your eyes now sweetheart," you scrunch you nose when he boops it.

you felt so safe with him. you held hope in his promise. eager in wanting to see him first thing in the morning, and you force yourself to sleep.

seonghwa waited for you to finally drift off when your breathing fell consistent and your mind at peace. he stood up carefully from the bed, staring down at your whole body. he lets out a long sigh before he brings out the scythe he had kept hidden from your vision.

he needs to take your soul now. he was supposed to do that when he first met you, but he delayed. you were the first person to like him, to admire his beauty, the first human being to actually hugged him. hug. who knew a human would hug a grim reaper that was bout to take its soul away.

seonghwa grips the scythe's holder tighter. hesitate clouds his head. take her soul now seonghwa! he hovers the weapon above your body but his movements faltered when his eyes lands on your face, snoring quietly with a smile. must be having a nice dream.

FUCKING HELL SEONGHWA! he caught himself off guard and threw his scythe away as it disappeared again, back to its safe place. he walks away from you and runs his hand through his hair. frustration. confusion. denial.

he sits down on a chair that was facing you from a far. he decides to calm himself down and maybe wait a just little bit longer, then he'll take your soul. the night went on in silence as he stayed there admiring you from a far.

through the dark sky, from the same window he first laid eyes on you, dark smoke clouds behind it and slips through into the bedroom through a little gap. the smoke then swirls around the end of your bed and it thickens to form two new identical entities.

"fucking hell, look at her san!" said the first dark little figure with horns to the other one that looks just the same just a tad bit bigger.

you twist in your sleep that results in the blanket to be pushes aside, revealing your bare calves.

"wooyoung! she looks so scrumptious, don't you think?" the other one hovered over your body and points out at your exposed plump skin.

"i want to sink my teeth in and savor her…" the one named wooyoung reached out his hands and bare its teeth to you while his other companion, san, was already drooling to the thought.

"don't you two dare touch her, demons." a thundering growl elicits by the grim reaper from the darkness in the corner of the bedroom.

the two little demons shrieked and hugged each other as they were surprised by the sudden interruption of their nice meal.

"damn, seonghwa! calm down will ya. you're always cranky all the time, try smiling for once," wooyoung pulled away from san first and walks over to seonghwa but he only made a few steps before he halted as seonghwa gave him an intense glare.

"I'm a reaper, why should i be smiling you filthy thing. why do you two chose her to disturb tonight either way?" seonghwa stood beside your bed as to protect you from the harm of the two demons.

"well actually we're not here for her, we're here for you. she's just so beautiful we kinda got distracted," san was the one tho explained while wooyoung nodded, agreeing with him. seonghwa only gave a glaring look just for the same demon to further elaborate.

"her soul was supposed to collected, but in the list, its still hasn't, so we we're tasked to go check it out as it was your responsibility, seonghwa," a tight frown forms on the reaper's face. he knew this would happen. he sighs in annoyance before giving his reason.

"give me some time, i promise I'll give it soon. now go back to hell you two!" seonghwa shoos them away but they were whining not wanting to leave and stay with you.

"get the fuck out!" seonghwa opens wide the window before shoving the two outside and closes it back shut and pulls down the curtain.

he heard a soft sound from behind him, you were twisting and turning in your sleep, muttering incoherent words. he steps closer to you and heard you calling out for him, but your eyes were still shut. he lays himself down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

i shall never let anything taint your little innocent soul.

"hwa…" you mumble out his name and he shushes you back to sleep.

"I'm here, you're hwa is here."

your body felt his presence and snuggles into his chest. seonghwa pulls you in tighter and lets you rest under his protection for the entire night.

you felt bright light beaming onto your face and you were woken up by the sun shining from your window. your stretch out your limbs with a soft grunt. you felt sudden adrenaline that morning, it was the most peaceful sleep you've ever had and you wanted to tell seonghwa. you need see seonghwa. you looked all over your room, but no one was there.

"seonghwa?" you heart sinks when there was no response. did he left? but he promised…

"seonghwa!" you voice in a higher octave but cracked as you were on edge of bawling your eyes out.

"my dear, i was out to fetch some food for you," his voice erupted from the opening of the door. you jumped out of bed and ran towards him. he held the tray of a full meal higher in the air so it doesn't bump you when you abruptly wrap your arms around him.

"i thought you left,"

"well, i didn't, now sit down and eat your food, human," you happily made your way to a small table as seonghwa puts down the tray and lets you gobble them all up.

you were hugging in bed and you rest the side of your head to his chest, and you hum curiously as you let your hand wander around his chest.

"i don't have a heart sweetie," he said

"well, i do," you exclaimed and took his frail hand and place it firmly on your chest. he gasped quietly as he feels your heartbeat. the soft thumping felt so surreal to his hands. it felt so soft and beautiful. and he wanted to keep on feeling and hearing this heartbeat forever. to cherish it everyday of his immortal lifetime.

realization of his true demeanor made him snap out of the trance you put him in. he realized he should've end that beating heart of yours, not admire it.

he pushes you away from him. though, his actions never made you think negatively. you giddily grab him back and snuggles back on his chest. seonghwa was easily defeated by your innocence and he lets you get comfortable with him again. another day of spending more time you, and ignoring his true intentions.

days after days, you two spent a lot of time together, actually, the whole time. from morning to night, from dusk till dawn, from midnight to midday. every hour, every minute, every second. you enjoyed his company very much and he was getting more comfortable with you and protected you at all times behind your back without you knowing.

seonghwa sat on your bed with his legs crossed and back leans against the headboard as he listens attentively to your little rambling of the book you're currently reading.

"…and then the queen took in her late husband's mistress into becoming her new slave and they got married in the end! yayyy happily ever after to them!" you throw your hands both up in the air joyfully.

"you're so adorable, come here," seonghwa chuckles and you made your way to him before he pulls you down to sit on his lap.

the longer he stayed with you, you became very familiar of his bold and alluring scent. he smells so rich and seductive. the burst of sweet and spicy, like of coffees and vanillas which gives off a warm and also intoxicating aura.

seonghwa wraps your smaller body with his arms. you snuggle into his embrace as you leaned your back against his chest. his fingers trace undefinable patterns on the skin of your arms. you elicits soft giggle as it tickles you a bit. hearing your soft sounds, also made seonghwa giggles along with you. it tugs the heartstrings of his non existing heart.

you love little moments like this with him.

but luck was not on your side that day. the same smoke that almost haunt you in your sleep came back. though this time, it was only the the demon named wooyoung that appeared.

"yo seonghwa, its been three months. what took you so long to take…her…soul??" you gasp when you laid eyes on the horned devil. seonghwa quickly covered your eyes with his hands and you felt his chest vibrates as he growls.

"FUCKING HELL!! are you hugging…wait…why are you…no wait…have you lost your…wait WAIT…WHAT ARE EVEN YOU DOING PARK SEONGHWA?!!" the little menace widens his eyes. hands pulling the long strands of his hair. shouting. screaming. panicking. shocked? no, he was far more than that. he almost exploded with the sight in front of him.

you tried to release his hand as you wanted to have your visions back but his grip to your face became tighter.

"please leave…" you heard him sigh.

"please? did you just said please? damn, a reaper begging and said the 'P' word to a lowlife like me? that's a first. what have you become…"

"I SAID LEAVE!" the demon quickly disappeared right before the blade of seonghwa's scythe could touch him when he swung it.

the room fell in utter silence when seonghwa retracts his hand back. you looked down to your hands instead of looking to the man behind you.

"I'm sorry, i should've told the truth. that I'm-"

"a grim reaper,"

you felt seonghwa's body getting tense after hearing those words coming out from your mouth. you turned around and held his face in the palm of your hands.

"i already knew from the first time you came into my room,"

"huhh how? then…why did you-"

"you reek death, hwa," your chuckles made him giggle. let's savor this last smile of him before the last breath.

sorrow fills seonghwa's eyes. you couldn't help but feel bad for him. he pulls you closer to his chest, his face on the side of your neck, his hands placed themselves on your back, pushing you as close as he can to you. chest to chest. he felt every beat of your heart. remember and loving every thump. you wrap your arms around his neck and brush along his silky black hair.

"I'm really sorry…i should've done it sooner…i should not have grown attached to you…i-" you shush him and heard little sobs from the side of your ear.

he pulls you away and his hand cups the side of your cheek as his thumb rubs along your cheekbones. he pulls your face closer to his and place his lips onto yours. for an angel of death, his lips were soft and it tasted so sweet.

"forgive me, my little soul," he pulls away from you as his other hand grips the handle of his scythe behind you till it could almost snap in two.

"seonghwa." you trace your fingers across seonghwa's beautiful dark teary eyes for the last time.

you flash him a soft smile and gave him a last kiss on his lips. a tear rolled down seonghwa's face as he felt your last breath on his face and your body fell limp in his hold. he choked on his sobs when he no longer feel your lovely beating heart.

for a grim reaper who has no soul, he felt his non-existent heart shatter to a million pieces.

she finally said my name.

dividers

taglist: @engentiny @seonghw4ffles

network: @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

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goldfades · 10 months ago

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PARDON MY EMOTIONS / I SHOULD PROBABLY KEEP IT ALL TO MYSELF ── 𝐉𝐁⁵

❪ requested -> "jude angst to fluff WITH PLOT!" ❫

─ pairing | jude bellingham x fem!reader

─ word count | 1.7k

─ warnings | lots of angst to fluff, miscommunication (kind of), jude being an ASSHOLE but making up for it.

─ ev's notes ! | i'm now in my football kick due to the euros and copa america so please send in requests!!! 🤗🎀

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP with England's star football player had its ups and downs.

You got to be a WAG, enjoying the glamorous lifestyle that came with dating Jude. From attending high-profile matches and exclusive events to traveling the world and mingling with other footballers and celebrities, life was never boring. The media attention was overwhelming at times, but you learned to navigate the spotlight and maintain a sense of normalcy.

However, that was the problem. You longed for a sense of normalcy, that was all you wanted was for your relationship. The glitz and glamour of being a WAG was only fun for a bit, not it seemed like you never got a moment to yourself. This was the root of all your relationships, somehow ─ Jude never understood why you wouldn't like all the media attention.

"It's overwhelming," you muttered as you played with the bottom of your of your coffee cup, the warm ceramic providing little comfort. Jude sat across from you, his expression both of concern and confusion.

"What do you mean, overwhelming?" He replied, his gaze locked on you. "This is part of the life we have. The attention, the media... it's just something we have to deal with."

You sighed, looking out the window at the city outside. "But that's just it, Jude. I never wanted this. I love you, and I support your career, but I miss having a private life. I miss being able to go out without cameras following us or people recognizing us everywhere we go."

"Overwhelming for you?" He sighed, his expression hardening. "How do you think I feel? Look, I'm not asking for much ─ I've given you the best life I can,"

You scoffed, he wasn't listening to what you were saying. "This isn't about you or-or what you've given me. I'm grateful, I really am-"

"Doesn't sound like it," Jude cut you off, his voice rising in frustration. "It sounds like you're not happy with anything I've done."

You felt a surge of anger, the words bubbling up before you could stop them. "That's not fair, Jude," you sighed. "I've been by your side through everything, and all I'm asking for is a little understanding. I need space, I need to feel like my own person, not just an accessory to your life."

Jude stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "So, what? You want me to quit football? Give up everything I've worked for?"

"No!" You stood up as well, your heart pounding. "I don't want you to give up anything. I just want you to see things from my perspective for once. I'm losing myself in all of this, and I feel like an accessory you just get to show off."

"Well, you know that's not true," his eyes softened for a moment, but then the frustration returned. "I thought we were a team. I thought we were in this together. But it feels like you're just... giving up."

"I'm not giving up," you said, your voice breaking. "It's hard for me too, like I'm just a pretty face with no dreams or aspirations. That's what they think-"

"Who cares what they think? I know you're more than that, everyone you care about knows that." Jude let out a huff as he glared at you.

"Well it's always just been about you, Jude," you didn't mean it to come out so harsh ─ your tone hard and cold. "Moving to Spain and-and all this, it's hard on me too."

That seemed to hit a nerve because Jude's eyes went wide before he scoffed. "You think this has been easy for me? You think moving to a different country, dealing with the pressure of a new team, and trying to keep us together is all about me?"

You flinched at his words, but your frustration was too strong to back down now. "That's not what I'm saying, Jude. I just want you to see that I'm struggling too. I left everything behind to be with you. My friends, my family, my life — everything."

Jude's face softened slightly, but his jaw was still tight with anger. "I need you to understand that this life comes with sacrifices. We both have to make them, this is what you signed up for."

"I know that, Jude," you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you sniffled. "But sometimes it feels like I'm the only one sacrificing. I feel like I'm losing myself, and I don't know how to fix it."

You wiped away a tear before continuing, averting your gaze from Jude. "I just need to feel like I'm more than just your girlfriend. I need to feel like I have my own purpose."

"You are!" Jude snapped, before sighing.

You sent him a glare as you sighed loudly, getting tired of not being heard. "Don't raise your voice!"

"You're being ungrateful, I've given you everything! A nice house, a nice car, you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?"

That was the last straw. Your mouth was slightly agape as you took in his words. Ungrateful? How could he say that after everything you've sacrificed to be with him?

"Fuck," you sighed as you looked up, meeting his gaze. "Is that how low you think of me? Fine, then. Let them have my position, since apparently, you think I'm just here for the perks," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger.

Jude's face fell, a mixture of regret and panic crossing his features. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just frustrated. I love you, and I want us to be happy."

You shook your head, taking a step back. "That's not enough, Jude. Love isn't just about the nice things or the glamorous life. It's about understanding each other. And right now, I don't feel understood."

"That's not what I meant," Jude sighed as he began rubbing his temple. "Jesus, I need some space from you."

You glared as he grabbed his keys from the counter and you watched him walk out of the room, feeling your stomach twist in anxiety and hurt. The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen. Tears streamed down your face as you sank into a chair, feeling the weight of the argument pressing down on you.

You sat there for a while, trying to process everything that had just happened. The love you had for Jude was undeniable, but the constant feeling of being misunderstood was taking its toll. You needed to find a way to reclaim your sense of self, to feel heard in your relationship.

After a few moments, you wiped your tears and took a deep breath. You needed to do something, anything, to clear your mind. You decided to go for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help you think more clearly. Grabbing your jacket, you stepped outside and started walking aimlessly through the streets of the city.

As you walked, you reflected on your relationship with Jude. There had been so many beautiful moments, but lately, it seemed like the challenges were overshadowing the good times. You loved him deeply, but you needed to find a way to communicate better, to make him understand how you felt without it turning into a fight.

After a while, you headed back home, feeling a bit more centered. When you entered the apartment, you heard the TV and sighed. You took off your jacket and made your way to the living room, your gaze landing on Jude was too immersed in the show he was watch to realize you'd come home.

He finally met your gaze and instantly muted the TV, the tension palpable as you walked toward him.

"Hey," you whispered as he gave you a small smile.

He tapped to the spot next to him, inviting you to sit down. You hesitated for a moment before joining him on the couch, the silence between you heavy with tension.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes filled with regret. "I've been thinking about what you said."

You nodded, your heart aching at the sight of his earnest expression. "Me too. I just... I need you to understand how hard this is for me."

Jude took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. "I know I've been incredibly fucking selfish, and I haven't been listening to you. I didn't realize how much you were sacrificing and how it was affecting you until now and... and I'm sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief. "I appreciate that, Jude. I love you, but I need to find my own way, to have something that's mine."

He nodded, squeezing your hand. "Yeah, I get that. And I want to help you find that. We can work on this together, maybe you can look into things that interest you here, find something that makes you happy."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I’d like that. And maybe we can set some boundaries with the media, try to keep our private life a bit more private."

"Yeah, absolutely," Jude agreed, his eyes shining with determination. "I'll talk to my manager and see what we can do about that. Your happiness is important to me... you are important to me."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling a sense of reassurance. "Thank you, Jude. I just want us to be happy together, without all the pressure and stress."

He kissed the top of your head, his arm wrapping around you protectively. "We will, I promise."

"I love you, a lot," Jude continued, his voice soft. "I didn't mean anything I said earlier, I was just angry. I don't know..." He trailed off, before pausing. "I don't know what I'd do with you, baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his brown ones, and you could see the depth of his feelings for you. "I love you too, Jude," you whispered, your heart swelling with emotion.

As you cuddled together on the couch, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you, you felt a sense of peace.

"How about we start fresh tomorrow?" Jude suggested, his voice gentle. "We can spend the day together, just us. No media, no distractions. Just enjoying each other's company."

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief. "I'd love that. It sounds perfect."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Good. It's a date then."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#jude bellingham #jb5 #england national team #bellingham #real madrid #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham x skims #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham blurb #rma

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slut-for-evans-stan · 1 year ago

Text

Mission Accomplished

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Summary: Ben and you can't stay in the same room without wanting to rip each other's hearts out. The Boys, tired of dealing with you, decide to take matters into their own hands by tricking you two into completing your most crucial mission yet— resolving your problems. One thing leads to another and you discover that there was an easier, much more enjoyable method to resolve everything between you all along. (I'm sorry I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (18+), Enemies to Lovers, Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy, Dirty talk, oral (m+f rec), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it fellas), hate fucking!? (kind of), rough sex, swearing, choking, squirting, creampie.

a/n: this is my very first time writing smut. Not proofread, please pardon me for errors if any! I tried my best :')

I'd really appreciate if you could like, comment and/or reblog, it'll make me really happy <3

Being a Supe with extraordinary powers didn't mean you were ready to exploit people for clout, with how things were at Vought. So when Starlight and Hughie learnt that you declined Ashley's offer to have you join the Seven, they convinced you to join hands with The Boys to ensure that the arrogant liars claiming to be "Saviours of the World" got what they deserved. Despite feeling a bit unwelcome at first due to Butcher's distant behaviour, you quickly settled in and felt accepted, and connected to everyone in the team, everyone except the newest member to join forces with you all to help in taking down Homelander and others; Soldier Boy.

In the dimly lit room, stood Soldier Boy in his silk robe, a cigarette in one hand, one leg on the bed, the other supporting his weight on the floor; his back facing the door. Upon hearing a soft knock, he turned around with a smug grin on his face. He began,

"Well, hello there gorgeous! You've sure kept me waiting long enough for someone who made eager promises to choke on my dick."

Unamused, and somewhat disgusted by his comment, you shot him a stern look,

"I'm not here for your entertainment, I need to run a few tests on you. So it'll be nice if you'll please spare a few minutes before you run off to get your dick wet. We need to be sure that you're not going to explode and kill us all."

Soldier Boy's smirk echoed through his room as he eyed you with an amazed expression. Undeterred, he sauntered over to you, leaning in and mistaking your seriousness for a mere challenge.

"Sure. Whatever it is, let's get it over with. Maybe after this, you and I could-"

You cut him off with an icy glare

"Save the charm for someone who cares. I don't have time for this bullshit, we've a mission coming up."

From your very first meeting that started with a misunderstanding, it would've been an understatement to say that Soldier Boy annoyed every living cell in your body. You were both constantly arguing and bickering about something or the other, always at each other's throats.

Soldier Boy's deep, intimidating voice echoed through the room, your comment having hit a nerve.

"You know what, you're insufferable."

"At least I'm not stuck up." he shot back.

What should've been a meeting to discuss the upcoming mission, turned into yet another baseless argument between the two of you. Making your teammates uncomfortable with every passing moment. Hughie, Frankie, Kimiko and others exchanged uneasy glances as the tension thickened. You continued,

"I can't believe I've to be stuck with an unbearable asshole as you. Butcher I think I'm gonna skip this mission. Don't want us to end up in another mess like the last time."

At this point, it seemed like you were both minutes away from strangling each other. Soldier boy chuckled,

"Why, you're so intimidated by a real hero you want to hide away like a pussy?"

Eyebrows raised, you retorted, "Real hero!? More like a reckless liability. I've seen toddlers with better impulse control."

Sensing a storm brewing, Hughie spoke with a shaky voice, attempting to intervene and diffuse the situation. "Can we focus, guys? We have a mission-"

Your gaze never wavered from the supe. "I'll focus when he stops acting like he's better than everyone else. He is not the only one with superpowers here, he might be strong but he doesn't scare or intimidate me in the slightest."

Rolling his eyes, Soldier Boy muttered, "I wouldn't need to if you could follow a plan for once in your life."

Butcher commented shutting you all up "Oi. Enough! No one is backing out. You two should go fuck it out or something, whatever issues you stupid cunts have with each other. Don't need any fuck ups in the mission."

The tension spilled into the supposed battlefield, your bickering a dangerous undertone to the chaos around you. Clashing on missions, your mutual disdain fielding your actions, each vying to outdo the other. Yet beneath the surface, a spark lingered, an undeniable attraction that you both, despised and desired, but neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

On a particularly precarious mission, your incessant bickering almost jeopardized the entire operation.

Amidst the mayhem, you found yourself pinned down by one of the opponents, wounded and unable to use your powers, and Soldier boy reluctantly came to your rescue.

You grunted, "I didn't need your help."

He shot back, "Don't get used to it. I'm saving the mission, not your sorry ass."

Watching the scene unfold from a distance, your teammates exchanged knowing looks. After the mission, they decided they'd have enough, and decided to take matters into their own hands, realising that the unresolved tension between you two threatened not just personal dynamics but the success of missions itself.

On Butcher's suggestion, the team tricked the two of you into thinking there was another mission but instead locking you up in a safe house together,

"Sort this out, or we'll all end up as collateral damage."

warned Hughie before haphazardly shutting the door and leaving, forcing you to confront your issues, facing a choice: either talk and resolve the conflict or risk tearing each other apart. Silence filled the room. However, it was short lived.

Taking a deep breath, you plopped on the sofa across from where he sat and spoke as calmly as you could.

"Great, those little shits tricked us."

Soldier Boy scowled, "This is ridiculous. I don't need couple's therapy, I need a way out of here. I'm gonna beat the shit out of these fucknuts."

This made you roll your eyes and cross your arms. "Maybe if you weren't so intolerable, we wouldn't be stuck in this situation in the first place."

As another argument filled the space, the air in the small living room of the safe house shifted. Soldier Boy's tone somewhat softened, revealing a vulnerability he rarely showed.

"You think I enjoy being like this? Constantly on edge, wondering if I'll turn into a goddamn weapon."

You sighed, your defenses momentarily crumbling.

"I didn't sign up for this either, you know. Being a supe's babysitter wasn't in my job description."

As you bickered, underlying desire simmered beneath the surface. Soldier Boy's gaze lingered a moment too long, making a very visible flush rise in your cheeks.

A smug grin playing on his lips, as he said,

"You can't resist me, can you? Admit it, there's something between us, more serious than all this bickering. You know, I think you want me-"

You cut him off, but your voice wavered. "Keep dreaming, I still can't stand you." This remark gave rise to another banter.

"Don't get over yourself. I was only pulling your leg. You're insufferable."

Accusations started flying like daggers, each word cutting deeper than the last. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge, making your way back into the living room, catching him intently staring at you. Frustration morphed into a heated exchange of longing glances.

Tension crackled in the air, and just when it seemed the room might implode, his expression shifted.

He got up from the sofa, walking over to you, cornering you till your back hit the wall. He leaned in, his eyes darkening with a growing desire, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone.

"You know what? Maybe you're right. I can't stand you, because everytime I look at you, this is all I want to do."

You arched an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Wait, what?" But before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss, making the beer bottle fall from your hands, effectively silencing any protests. You caught hold of the shirt he was wearing, kissing him back with equal fervour, savoring the moment as if it was a dream that would end all too soon. All your pent up anger and frustration showed up as the two of you desperately tore at each other clothes, never once breaking the kiss. A battle of tongues. He only pulled back for a second, with a sly grin on his face, his eyes dark, pupils dilated with glimmers of lust.

"There, no need to argue when we can do this instead. We should've figured this out sooner." Rubbing you over your panties with two of his fingers, he groaned.

"You're such a slut. So wet already and I haven't even touched you. You want to get railed till you can't walk, don't you?"

Before you had a chance to say anything, he reclaimed your lips in a hunger fuelled kiss. The room once filled with tension, now crackled with a different kind of energy. Pieces of both your clothings flew across the room. Soldier boy lifted you up and carried you to the small table in the kitchen and set you down hurriedly. The two of you continued to kiss while he rid you both of the remaining pieces of clothing. He kissed you like a mad man, biting and marking every inch of your skin he could in his desperate need to be close to you. Starting from your neck, moving to your tits, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting it while palming and squeezing the other roughly, then switching and doing the same to the other one. He moved back up to place another rough kiss to your lips, both of you moaning and biting each other's tongues and lips, intoxicated with the feeling of being so close. With an animalistic growl he parted, giving you a look so intense, it could scare the bravest of people.

"When you feel the need to scream, moan my name. Scream it as loud as you can."

With that he roughly nudged your legs apart as wide as they could go and dived right in, eating you out like man starved, licking and sucking your most sensitive parts like it was his last meal. You pulled his hair, legs shaking and trembling with pleasure. His gruff beard giving you a delicious burn, that would heal in no time. He started flicking your clit with his tongue and entered two of his fingers inside you, moving them in and out rapidly. When he added two more fingers, you lost it. Screaming his name and cumming all over his face, your legs wrapped around his head, making it impossible for him to move away.

"Fuck. Ben. I can't-"

you tried pulling away but he didn't stop even then, holding you down with his arms, making you cum two more times before finally deciding to let go. You were dazed in pleasure, but still wanted more. Jumping down the table, and on your knees, you made eye contact with him as you slowly took his long, thick and veiny cock in your hand, stroking him and giving a few kitten licks from the base to the tip and sucking off the beads of precum, moaning at the salty taste, making him groan. You then looked up at him, taking him as far as you could before pulling back again and asking him to fuck your face. He hesitated for a second but his resolve crumbled as soon as you opened your mouth, showing him you were waiting for him. He grabbed your head with both his hands and pushed himself into your mouth, roughly thrusting in and out again and again, moaning your name, cussing like a maniac. You could tell he was close, and then he held your head as close as possible, making you gag a little, his eyes closing, his head thrown back, as ropes of his cum shot down your throat.

In ragged breaths, he said "Be a good little slut and swallow it all."

As you did, you opened your mouth with your tongue out, showing no remnants of his release. He chuckled, pulling you up by your arms, surprising you with a softness in his gaze as he asked

"You sure you want to go further? If you don't, we'll stop right here and pretend this never happened-" you cut him off with an aggressive kiss "Fuck me as hard as you can. I won't break. Take all your frustrations out on me."

With that he smirked and rapidly turned you around, bending your back and shoving your face on the table with his hand, setting it for support right by your head. He entered you with one brutal thrust, making the both of you moan and groan loudly, not giving you a second to adjust as he started ramming his cock into you, hard and deep, his hips moving at an inhuman speed.

"That's it. This is what you wanted right? Now take it. I don't think I'm ever going to let you go after this. You feel so good. Gonna make you my personal little fuck toy. Such a perfect fit."

Hearing all the filth leave his mouth made you clench around him, making him throw his head back in pleasure, never once letting his pace falter.

"Ah you love this. I can tell by the way your tight pussy's choking my dick."

At this point, all rational thoughts had left your brain and all you could do was moan and revel in the pleasure he was giving you. One thing you knew for sure was that he had ruined everyone else for you. After a few moments he moved the hand on your back between your legs to rub your clit and you started screaming in pleasure, feeling yourself flying close to the edge. As soon as Ben realised how close you were, he pulled out and turned you around, lifting you on the table and onto your back, swiftly entering you again.

"I know you're close. I wanna see your face when you cum all over me."

He moved his hand back between your legs to rub your clit in circles, while his other hand moved to your neck, choking you, as he went back to thrusting at his original, rough pace. This new angle somehow making him go deeper than before, hitting that one spot that made you see stars.

"Fuck. I don't think I can last long either."

To that, you finally managed to say

"Cum with me."

which sounded more like a moan than a sentence. You both looked into each other's eyes, moaning, grabbing each other, raking your nails all over his gorgeous, broad shoulders, not breaking the eye contact once. After a particularly hard thrust, you felt a funny sensation, one that you have rarely ever felt, only while pleasing yourself and before you knew, you screamed and started squirting your release, coming undone while Ben kept thrusting into you.

"Oh yes. Fuck. That's so hot baby. Cum all over me. I don't think I'll ever get enough of the look on your face right now. I think I've finally managed to shut you up, fucked your brains out. Fuck I'm cumming."

His thrusts grew frantic, and much harder than before, kissing you roughly, your teeth clashing, and he finally slammed his hips into yours one last time, holding your hips so tight, you were sure you would bruise for atleast a few hours, despite your super healing abilities. Groaning and grunting in his deep voice as thick ropes of his cum filled you to the brim, triggering yet another release out of you, making you squirt even more. He collapsed on top of you, careful that he wasn't crushing you with his weight.

The two of you stayed like that, entangled with each other for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath, before he slowly pulled out of you, making you both wince at the sudden loss. As he walked to the living room, "That was it" you thought, a one time rendezvous with Soldier Boy that might have either helped you two or made things worse. He sauntered back in with a towel in hand, towards the sink to wet it, also filling up a glass of water and quietly walking to you, cleaning you up without a word, handing the glass for you to drink. Taking it from him, you looked at him mumbled a soft "thank you", getting down the table, you nudged him to walk out with you, sitting down on the couch and covering yourself with a blanket, while he picked up his surprisingly untorn boxers, putting them on and sitting next to you, making you turn to face him. You both understood you needed to talk about what had just happened.

The shared realisation that the animosity between you two that had led to this impulsively passionate encounter, had somewhere blurred the lines between desire and hate.

Ben began to say "Look, about earlier... I didn't mean half the things I said."

You replied "What? You didn't mean it when you said you want to kiss me and do other filthy things to me everytime you see me?"

Taken aback, with a raised eyebrow and confused express Ben said, "Oh no, no lies there. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you."

You cut him off saying "I know, I was just pulling your leg. I've felt the same way about you. Your reputation preceded you and it made me crazy knowing I still wanted you."

He replied, "I think we let our tempers get the best of us." sighing, he continued "I care about you more than I let on."

Which made you sigh in response. "Then why do you never act like it? Making me think of you as a douche who loves berating me?"

Ben ran his fingers through his hair. "I guess I feel scared. Scared of how much of a hold you have had on me from the very beginning. It made me feel like a fool at times, I thought the only way I could supress these feelings were by acting like an asshole towards you. I'm really sorry."

Your gaze softened, "I'm really sorry too, my behaviour towards you hasn't been any better either." You continued, "I thought we were destined to be enemies. I don't hate you, I never did. I just wanted you to see the person I am beyond the righteous supe everyone else sees."

Ben slowly took your hands in his, making you look into his eyes. "Now I see you more than I ever thought I would. Maybe.. maybe there's something more here."

You replied, "Maybe there is. What happens now?"

To which he said "We talk. Like normal people. No more running away or avoiding things and arguing for no reason. We figure out where we stand, one step at a time, together."

You smiled, nodding your head. "Agreed. No more hiding how we feel. Besides, I guess I like this way of solving our issues much more." Which made him chuckle and pull you into his arms, staring at you intently, pressing his lips to yours.

Back at the Flatiron building, Hughie sat at his table across from Frenchie, fidgeting with his cup. "I'm worried. What do you think? Will they make up or kill each other?"

Butcher entered the room, a smirk plastered over his face "I'm pretty sure they are fucking like rabbits back there." And boy, was he right.

The two of you went multiple rounds, thanks to your super stamina, christening every possible surface of the safe house. From the couch, to the bedroom and the floor, and the shower too. You had both awoken a hunger, only the other could satiate.

"Now that we're not at each other's throats for the wrong reasons, I think maybe, we'd make a good team after all."

Said Ben, holding you close, running smooth circles on along your arms, with the two of you lying on the bed, tired and basking in the afterglow. You smiled, turning to face him. "We'll have to see about that, you might just be right. For now, I can't believe I'm saying this but I need sleep, we both do. You've worn me out completely."

He chuckled, tightening his arms around you, placing a soft kiss to your forehead and lips, and the two of you drifted off to sleep, feeling content in each other's embrace.

It was a start of a connection and understanding that arose from the most unexpected places, even amidst the chaos of a world filled with superhumans and the fight for good. Fiery exchanges and whispered confessions bringing in an unexpected depth to your dynamic, proving that there can be a fragile, pure connection between two polar opposites. Serendipity, often painted as an unusual force, interweaves with fate, guiding people towards love where they're least expecting to find it.

Your story a testament to the unpredicted twists of the heart, proving that even the fiercest adversaries can find redemption in each other's arms.

a/n: Finished watching Season 3 of 'The Boys' just a few days ago and let me just put this out here, Jensen as Soldier Boy is one of the best things to ever happen to this world. Oh! the things I'd let this man do to me-

Been planning this fic for a week now, I really hope y'all enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this.

I'd really appreciate if you'd comment any thoughts, improvements, suggestions or requests that you have! Thank you ^_^

Credits: Banner by @mykento

post divider by @saradika

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