#hand on a shoulder a background moment them standing next to each other

[yellowlaboratory]

Oh I have to send another ask to talk about more Jiara how much did you love how both times JJ dropped the treasure hunt and the trip with John B and Big John to save Kiara? Everything with Jiara was amazing this season all except no second kiss and the finale didn't have as much with them. The reunion had to be my favorite where he was asking if they hurt her in a soft voice. How are we going to get through this hiatus? I could barely wait when we had a week left.

i have literally not stopped thinking about jj consistently choosing kiara over the treasure since i watched. JJ's line in the first episode when they are looking at the painting of the burning boat - "it's about the gold, not kiara. it doesn't help us." like WHAT. it so clearly shows where his head is at and what he considers important and it makes me want to SCREAM. and in episode 9, when they are waiting to go save Big John, he was so antsy and he was so upset that everyone was literally, like, five minutes late and he needed to go but then kiara's not there and he KNOWS something is up. He goes from not waiting to wait even a second longer to delaying his whole trip by 8 hours and telling the other pogues to go on without him because he needs to save kiara. LIKE.

i do wish we got a second kiss in the finale but i think s4 is going to serve. i also LOVED the reunion on the dock scene - it's between that and the high five after they get on the plane to South America for my favorite scene.

hiatus is gonna be something for sure alkjdsfhlkasjdfhsdf but here's to hoping early renewal means early filming means early release!!!

[cumironi]

ONE TOO MANY : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

the first time you have an argument with your two boyfriends is because they've been ignoring you for weeks, so you return the favor.

wc. 4,3k | m.list | part. 2

warning. boyfriends! satosugu, angst to fluff (kinda), petnames, light arguments, silent treatment, and idk.

as you sit on the couch, the dim light of the living room casting long shadows across the room, you glance at the clock. it's late—much later than usual for geto and gojo to be coming home. a knot of worry tightens in your chest, but you push it aside. you know their work can be demanding, but you miss them.

the door finally creaks open, and your heart leaps as geto and gojo step inside. but something feels off. their usual smiles are absent, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion. geto barely acknowledges you with a nod, and gojo doesn't even glance your way, heading straight to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“hey...” you begin softly, but your voice trails off as they move around the room like you're not even there. geto drops his bag by the door and heads for the stairs, clearly ready to crash in bed without a word. gojo's usually bright eyes are dull, and when he finally looks at you, it's with a tired expression that makes your heart sink.

“i’m just... really tired,” gojo mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your gaze.

you feel a wave of frustration and hurt rise within you. they’ve had long days before, but they’ve never been so dismissive. you stand up, crossing your arms, trying to figure out what to say, how to break through whatever barrier has suddenly sprung up between you. “baby... what's going on?” you ask, your voice laced with concern.

geto pauses at the base of the stairs, sighing deeply, “just... give us some space, okay? we’ve had a rough day.”

his words hit you harder than they should, and you’re left standing there, feeling more alone than ever as they head off to bed without another word. the room feels colder, emptier, and you’re left wondering if it’s something you did, or if there’s something they’re not telling you.

the next morning you wake up to the smell of coffee and the soft sound of music coming from the kitchen. your stomach does a flip, a hint of excitement mixing with lingering unease. you slide out of bed and pad down the stairs, your heart rate picking up as you near the kitchen.

the sight that greets you is unexpected. geto and gojo stand side by side, their back to you as they putter in the kitchen. gojo's tall form easily dominates the space, his shoulders broader than you remembered. geto's hair is ruffled, still messy from sleep, and it's a stark contrast to his usually composed appearance. they haven't noticed you yet, engrossed in their task as they move around each other in a synchronized dance.

you lean against the doorway, watching them for a moment. gojo's slender fingers skillfully flip pancakes, and geto hums along to the music playing softly in the background, a spatula in his hand as he tends to the bacon.

it's a scene so domestic and natural, yet it feels surreal given their cold demeanor from last night. it's as if they're trying to pretend yesterday never happened, to go back to normalcy. geto suddenly looks up, catching your gaze. his expression turns serious, his dark eyes locking onto yours. gojo continues cooking, his back still to you, but you can almost feel the tension radiating from him.

“you're up,” geto comments, his voice neutral.

you clear your throat, trying to keep your tone light, “yeah, the coffee smell woke me up.”

“coffee's almost done,” gojo says without turning around, his voice lacking its usual playful edge. an awkward silence settles over the room, thick and stifling.

you watch as they continue to cook, each movement precise and calculated. no small talk, no casual touches or laughter like you're used to. gojo plates the pancakes and bacon, setting them on the table, before finally turning to face you. his normally bright eyes are cool and detached.

“breakfast is ready,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

you swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the distance between you growing wider with every passing moment. the breakfast they've prepared looks delicious, but sitting down to eat together feels like an impossible feat given the current atmosphere.

you shift your weight, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further. the air in the kitchen is charged, and the earlier domestic scene has been shattered. geto turns back to the stove, his shoulders tense as he tends to the food. gojo continues flipping pancakes, his movements more rigid than normal.

“so...” you begin, your voice breaking the silence, “about last night—”

“don't,” geto interrupts, his voice firm. “can we just not do this right now?”

his blunt response hangs in the air, and you're taken aback by his abruptness. you feel your frustration and confusion mounting, but before you can say anything, gojo puts down the spatula, his voice laced with irritation.

“yeah, maybe we should just focus on the food,” he says, avoiding your gaze. the room falls into an awkward silence again, only the sound of cooking filling the air. you can feel the tension building, the unspoken words and emotions hanging heavily between you.

you look at them for a second, just staring without saying a words and they can see how quickly your expression change to cold as clear as the day. you swallow hard, the words you want to say sticking in your throat. instead, you just nod, barely meeting his eyes as you mumble, “okay.” your voice comes out small, almost defeated, as you focus on the floor.

even as you agree to let it go, the hurt gnaws at you. you want to bridge the gap, to reach out to them, but the coldness in their demeanor keeps you at arm’s length. the silence stretches on, and you’re left feeling more alone than ever, standing just a few feet away from the two people you thought you were closest to.

the meal is eaten in a heavy, uncomfortable silence. neither geto nor gojo make an effort to talk like they usually do, their eyes focused on their food. gojo's movements are mechanical, while geto's gaze keeps shifting towards you, his expression a mixture of guilt and determination to keep his distance.

as you finish eating, they quickly rise, busying themselves with cleaning up, still avoiding any meaningful eye contact with you.

as satoru reaches for your plate, you finally speak up, your voice firmer than you expected, “don’t.” he freezes for a moment, his hand hovering over your plate. you can feel his gaze on you, but you don’t look up. “i’ll do it myself,” you add, your tone making it clear that this isn’t up for debate.

geto looks up, his eyes flicking between you and gojo as if silently trying to communicate. gojo seems ready to argue, his jaw clenching, but geto subtly shakes his head, a silent warning. a beat of tense silence passes before gojo reluctantly pulls back his hand, a flash of something that looks like hurt in his eyes. he mumbles something under his breath that you don't quite catch.

pushing down the knot of emotions threatening to choke you, you stand up from the table and walk towards the sink where geto is still standing, his presence a heavy weight in the small space. without looking at him, you ask, your voice edged with coldness, “are you done?”

geto nods, his expression unreadable as he steps back slightly. there’s a moment where you consider softening your tone, but the way they’ve been treating you today and days before hardens your resolve.

“then move,” you say, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. if they want to treat you like this, then you’re not going to just sit there and take it. you’ve given them space, tried to be patient, but their coldness is more than you can handle right now.

geto hesitates, a flash of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before he steps aside, giving you room to move past him. you take your plate to the sink, the cool metal under your fingers grounding you as you begin to rinse it off, your movements sharp, deliberate.

as you stand there, the sound of running water filling the silence, you can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their unspoken words pressing down on your shoulders. but you don’t turn around. if they want to push you away, you won’t beg them to stay close. not tonight, not anymore.

geto remains where he stands, watching you silently, while gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you as well. the minutes pass in a tense silence, the sound of the water and the clinking of dishes the only noise. you can feel their eyes on you, their gazes burning into your skin, but you keep your focus on the task at hand, refusing to break.

geto finally breaks the silence, his voice soft, but with an edge of determination, “can we talk?”

you pause for a moment, letting his request hang in the air. a bitter scoff escapes your lips as you turn off the water, feeling a surge of irony wash over you. you turn to face him, your expression hard as you look between geto and satoru. “oh, now you wanna talk?” you ask, your voice laced with mockery. “when i wanted to talk, you both shut me out. but now that i’m doing the same, suddenly it’s time for a conversation?”

there’s a biting edge to your words, a reflection of the hurt and frustration that’s been building up inside you all weeks. you don’t bother hiding it, letting them feel a fraction of what you’ve been feeling. if they want to push you away, then they’ll have to deal with the consequences.

geto falters, his expression flitting momentarily to gojo, before returning to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and stubbornness. gojo doesn’t say anything, his jaw set, but you can sense the tension radiating from him as well.

“i know,” geto starts, his voice a bit shaky, “i know we’re being unfair. we owe you an explanation. we just…” he trails off, his gaze breaking yours as he glances at gojo again, almost seeking validation. gojo remains silent, his face stoic, but his eyes betray a flicker of internal struggle.

they both shift uncomfortably under your sharp words, gojo’s gaze darting away and geto’s expression darkening. their discomfort only adds fuel to your indignation.

“yeah, it’s funny how that works, isn’t it?” you continue, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you ignore me for weeks and then suddenly want to talk when i’m finally done playing your little game. well, too bad. i’m done playing along,” you turn the water off and walk away to your shared bedroom.

gojo’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist before you can step away. the suddenness of his action catches you off guard, his grip tight but not aggressive. “wait,” he says, his voice low, his eyes searching yours.

geto steps towards you, his expression a mix of guilt and determination, “please.”

the desperation in their voices is unmistakable, and it’s the first sign of vulnerability they’ve shown all weeks. it’s enough to make you hesitate, to feel a flicker of reluctance. but you stood on your grounds— trying to stood on your ground. “i have works to do,” you mumble before push his hand away.

the past few days have been a blur, a mixture of long hours and late nights. you've been coming home later and later, deliberately avoiding going to bed with them, choosing instead to crash on the couch, wrapped in a blanket of silence and exhaustion. it’s not just the late nights—it’s the subtle shift in your routine, the way you’ve distanced yourself, mirroring the coldness they showed you that night. you’re not even sure if they’ve noticed, but it’s become your own form of silent rebellion, a way to protect yourself.

tonight is no different. when you finally walk through the door, it’s nearly one in the morning, your body heavy with fatigue. you’re expecting the house to be dark and quiet, but as you step into the kitchen, the soft light catches your attention. they’re both there, geto and gojo, standing near the stove, the faint smell of food lingering in the air.

gojo looks up first, his expression serious but tinged with something you can’t quite place. geto follows, his gaze steady as he watches you enter. “can we talk?” gojo asks, his voice more gentle than it’s been in days.

you hesitate, your hand tightening around the strap of your bag. “talk about what?” you reply, your voice is neutral, guarded. geto steps closer, concern etched into his features. “we heard you’ve started taking missions again,” he says quietly, the words heavy with implication. “why?”

you feel a flicker of something—anger, maybe, or frustration. they ignored you, pushed you away, and now they want to question your choices? it feels like a cruel twist of fate.

“why not?” you shoot back, dropping your bag onto the counter with a soft thud. “i figured if you two can focus on work and shut me out, then maybe i should do the same. why waste time waiting around?”

gojo's expression hardens at your answer, a shadow passing over his features. geto’s eyes flick between you both, his expression pained. “we’re not shutting you out,” gojo insists, his voice strained, “we’re just..”

“busy,” geto finishes, his gaze dropping to the floor.

the kitchen falls into thick silence, the tension stretching the air between you all. gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, while geto stands in the middle, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense.

you feel the pressure of their gazes on you, waiting for some reaction, some sign of understanding or forgiveness. but instead, you simply shrug your shoulders, your expression carefully neutral. “okay,” you mutter, the word simple but loaded with a cold indifference that makes their attempts at explanation feel small.

gojo shifts his weight, clearly frustrated by your continued coldness. his jaw clenches. geto tries a different angle, his voice soft. “we've been worried about you being out there alone.”

your eyes flicker back to his, and a flash of irritation passes through them. “alone?” you echo, a bitter edge to your tone. “really? you guys have been MIA for weeks, but now you're worried about me being alone?” the absurdity of the situation hits you, and a mocking laugh bubbles up, escaping in a few harsh chuckles. “you guys are unbelievable,” you say, the laughter carrying a mix of disbelief and hurt.

the laughter seems to take them by surprise, their faces reflecting a mix of guilt and confusion. the mocking tone of your voice stings, cutting through their attempts at reconciliation with a sharp edge.

gojo's jaw tenses, his hand clenching into a fist.

geto winces at the sound of your laughter, his eyes downcast. “i know it looks bad,” he murmurs, his voice almost pitiful.

“looks bad?” you repeat, your voice raises an octave, anger leaking into your words. “that's a nice way to put it. you two have been distant for weeks, acting like i don't even exist. then suddenly you're here, in the kitchen, when you know most nights i get home late.”

you step forward, your eyes narrowing as you gesture towards them. “were you waiting for me?” you ask, your voice quiet but seething with anger. “were you hoping to catch me in a weak moment, when i'm tired and vulnerable, so you could have this little heart-to-heart and feel better about yourselves?”

they both take a step back, looking taken aback by your sudden aggression. gojo's expression is a mix of guilt and defensiveness, while geto's eyes widen at the accusation. you take a deep breath, letting the anger ebb away just enough to speak. “i don't have time for this,” you say, letting out a sigh, “i only came home to get my things because my flight leaves in two hours. i’ve got a mission abroad for a week.”

the reality of your departure hangs in the air, the urgency in your voice making it clear that this conversation will have to wait. you turn, starting to gather your things, feeling the weight of their eyes on you as you move. the distance between you all feels like an insurmountable chasm, but for now, you have to focus on what’s ahead.

geto's eyes widen in surprise, while gojo's face pales. “wait—” they both speak at the same time, their voices filled with a mix of shock and desperation. geto quickly regains his composure, stepping forward, his arm reaching out. “hold on a second,” he says, his voice urgent, “you can't just leave—” gojo cuts in, his expression a mix of guilt and worry. “you’re not seriously going alone, are you?”

you brush off geto's arm, continuing to gather your things. “i don't have a choice,” you reply, your voice firm. “the higher-ups assigned me to the mission. i have to go.” gojo steps in front of you, his eyes meeting yours, a hint of pleading in them. “can we at least talk about this?” he asks, his voice quiet.

you pause, hesitating for a moment before shaking your head. “there’s nothing to talk about. my flight leaves soon, and i have to get ready.”

you can see the hurt in their eyes, the realization of your words sinking in. they hadn’t been there for you, and now they expected you to stay? to wait around for a conversation you didn’t think they even wanted to have?

gojo runs a hand through his hair, his expression frustrated. “what if something happens to you out there?” he says, his voice low and tense. geto steps forward, his eyes on yours, his voice pleading. “you can’t just leave things like this.” the desperation in their voices is a stark contrast to the coldness you’ve been experiencing these past few days. but it’s too little, too late.

your hands pause for a moment, your heart rate increasing at their reactions. you had wanted a reaction, but this intense concern was not what you had expected. you look back at them, your expression carefully nonchalant, despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

“why not?” you asked, your voice betraying none of your inner turmoil. “you two are the ones who have been busy and distant. if you've got your own priorities, then why can't i have mine?”

gojo lets out a frustrated exhale, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. “that's not fair,” he mutters, his voice strained. geto looks torn, his eyes flickering between you and gojo. “just because we've been preoccupied doesn’t mean we don’t care.” the guilt in his voice is evident, mirroring the guilt you’ve been feeling. but you push it aside, trying to maintain the facade of indifference.

you let out a heavy sigh and sit down, looking up at them with a weary expression. “then what's fair, satoru?” you ask, your voice is steady but tinged with frustration. “tell me. i’ve been waiting for you two for days, weeks even. when i don’t wait around and i finally start doing things for myself, that’s not fair?”

the question hangs in the air, the weight of it pressing down on all of you. the silence that follows is thick with unresolved feelings, leaving the three of you standing on the edge of understanding, yet unable to bridge the gap between you.

gojo's gaze drops to the floor, his jaw clenching as if he’s struggling with his own emotions. geto's eyes flit between you both, his expression pained as he takes in your words. there's a moment of heavy silence before gojo finally speaks up, his voice low and laced with something you can’t quite place.

“you're right,” he admits, his eyes lifting to meet yours. “we've been shitty. we’ve been distant, ignoring you, making you feel like we don’t care.” geto nods in agreement, his eyes meeting yours as well. “we messed up,” he adds, his voice soft. “we've been dealing with some things and we shut you out.”

gojo runs a hand through his hair again, his gaze darting away and then back to yours. “we didn't mean to hurt you,” he says, his voice quiet but sincere, “we just... we weren't thinking.” the weight of their words hangs heavily in the air, and you feel a pang of sadness at their regret. “but you did hurt me,” you reply softly, your voice carrying a trace of vulnerability.

they both flinch at your words, their expressions flickering with guilt and remorse. gojo lets out a heavy sigh, his hands clenching into fists.

“we know,” he mutters, his voice almost a whisper. geto steps closer, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. “we were idiots,” he says, his voice filled with remorse, “we didn't realize how much we were hurting you until you started spending less time with us.”

you take a deep breath as you stand to leave, the unspoken emotions and unresolved tension still linger between you. “i need to go. ijichi is waiting for me,” you say, the words firm but carrying an undertone of sadness.

you pause at the door, looking back at them. “we can talk when i get home,” you add, offering a faint, weary smile before stepping out. the door closes behind you, leaving them with the weight of your words and the promise of a future conversation.

they both watch you leave, their expressions a mixture of guilt, sorrow and a hint of hope. gojo's shoulders slump as you close the door behind you, while geto lets out a sigh, his eyes still fixed on the empty space where you were just a moment ago.

the apartment feels strangely quiet without you, the weight of the conversation still lingering in the air. they both know they have a lot to make up for, but for now, they wait, anxiously anticipating your return.

a week has passed, and the tension has only built as they waited for your return. when you finally come home, the sight that greets you in the living room is striking. geto and gojo are there, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and desperation. they look worn, their usual composure replaced by a sense of helplessness, as though the time apart has taken a visible toll on them.

they both rise as you enter, their eyes searching your face, a mix of hope and apprehension in their gazes. it’s clear they’ve been counting the days, each passing moment stretching into a painful reminder of their mistakes and your absence.

“hey,” you greet them with a small, tentative smile.

the room is thick with unspoken words and emotions. geto and gojo exchange a glance, their expressions softening slightly at your presence. they both take in your appearance, their eyes roving over you as if checking for any sign of injury from your recent mission. their shoulders relax somewhat, relieved that you're relatively unharmed.

gojo is the first to speak, his voice low and hoarse, as if he hasn't used it much these past few days. “you're back,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on yours. geto stands behind him, his arms crossed as if holding back his own mixture of relief and anxiety. “how was the mission?” he asks, his voice a soft counterpoint to the tense silence.

you nod, your smile fading slightly as you respond. “the mission went well,” you say, your voice calm but carrying a hint of fatigue. geto uncrosses his arms, his posture relaxing a bit, while gojo’s shoulders seem to ease from their tightness. the tension in the room begins to shift, making way for the conversation and reconciliation that have been waiting for this moment.

you nod in response, your heart feeling the weight of the moment. “yeah, we can talk,” you say, but the words feel inadequate for what you’re really craving. “but could you hug me? i feel like i’m going to lose my mind if i don’t get a hug from you right now.”

gojo doesn't need to be told twice. he immediately steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a tight grip, pulling you into his chest, his embrace so strong it almost lifts you off the ground. he buries his face in your hair, his breath shaky against your skin. “god, i missed you so much,” he murmurs, the words muffled against you.

geto hesitates for a moment, watching gojo's embrace. the sight of it makes his chest ache, a pang of jealousy mixed with guilt. but then, as if unable to resist, he steps closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind, his front pressed against your back. his embrace is gentler than gojo's, but no less heartfelt. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

you let out a deep sigh of relief as they wrap their arms around you. the warmth and closeness of their embrace offer a sense of comfort that you've been missing. the tension that’s built up over the past week starts to dissolve, replaced by the soothing reassurance of their presence. in this moment, the words and explanations can wait as you simply allow yourself to be held and to feel that things might start to mend.

they both hold you tight, their arms firm against you. their hold is almost possessive, as if they're afraid you're going to slip away. they don't say anything, their only response a mix of soft breathing and the occasional whispered murmur of your name.

after a few moments, gojo pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. his blue eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn't seen you in years. his voice is hoarse when he speaks, filled with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability. “can we sit?” you nod, a small but weary smile crossing your face. “yeah, let’s sit,” you agree, feeling the weight of the past week begin to lift just a little as you prepare to talk and hopefully begin to heal together.

they both guide you to the couch, with gojo sitting beside you while geto takes the armchair across from the two of you. as you settle into the cushions, their eyes follow your every move, as if afraid you might disappear again at any moment.

the room is silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. gojo seems a bit unsure where to start, his eyes flickering between you and geto. geto takes the initiative, his eyes staying fixed on you. “we owe you an explanation,” he says, his voice soft but filled with regret. “we understand why you’re angry at us, and we’re sorry.”

gojo fidgets beside you, his gaze dropping briefly to his hands in his lap before he forces himself to look at you again. “we were caught up in some things,” he says, his voice low and almost ashamed. “and we shouldn’t have shut you out like we did.”

geto nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “we were idiots, plain and simple,” he admits, his voice filled with remorse. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you started distancing yourself from us. seeing you leave, not knowing if you were okay or not, it was one of the worst things we’ve ever experienced.”

you listen quietly, your fingers absently playing with the hem of your skirt. their words, while sincere, do little to erase the hurt you still feel from the past week. the pain lingers, a reminder of the distance and isolation you felt.

they both notice your distant expression, the silence in the room growing heavier. gojo’s hand clenches into a fist by his side, his eyes pained as he watches you fiddle with your skirt. geto’s eyes flicker to gojo for a moment before refocusing on you. he seems to struggle for words, his expression filled with regret. “can you look at us?” he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of pleading.

you slowly lift your gaze, meeting their eyes. the hurt is still there, but you try to convey a sense of willingness to listen and understand. “i’m here,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the lingering pain. “i’m listening.”

gojo's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily, to take yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, as if seeking some physical connection to ground him. his grip is gentle but firm, a plea for forgiveness and understanding in his touch.

geto's eyes flicker between your faces, his expression taut. “we’ve been careless,” he says, his voice thick with remorse. “we’ve been too lost in other things and we didn’t pay enough attention to you. and that was wrong of us.”

as geto speaks, his remorse is evident in his voice, you take a deep breath. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks,” you say, your voice steady but tinged with the hurt you've been holding onto. “it wasn’t just about not paying enough attention. it felt like you didn’t care at all, and that really hurt.”

they both flinch at your words, their expressions crumpling with guilt. gojo’s grip on your hand tightens, his eyes dark with remorse, while geto nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.

“we didn’t mean to make you feel like we didn’t care,” geto says softly, his voice filled with regret. “we were just…” he trails off, struggling to articulate the weight of their actions.

gojo steps in, his voice strained. “we were dealing with some stuff, and we didn’t handle it well. there were ongoing issues with the higher-ups, never-ending missions, and the stress of yuuta and yuji’s executions. the pressure from the school and everything else just piled up, and we let it affect how we treated you.”

the added context helps to explain their actions, but it doesn’t completely erase the pain. the burden of their responsibilities and the way they’ve neglected you come into clearer focus, but the healing process will take time and effort from all sides.

you take a deep breath, your voice steady despite the lingering hurt. “i know you were dealing with a lot,” you say quietly. “i’m dealing with the same stuff—higher-ups, never-ending missions, everything that comes with it. but that doesn’t mean it was okay for you to shut me out.”

you squeeze gojo's hand gently, the firmness of your grip reflecting your resolve. “i understand that you were overwhelmed, but it didn’t excuse how you treated me. i needed you, and instead, i felt abandoned.” the words hang in the air, leaving room for reflection and a path towards healing.

they both hang their heads, their expressions marked by remorse. gojo's grip on your hand tightens, as if begging you to understand. geto’s eyes avoid yours, his guilt palpable. they both know you’re right, their previous justifications sounding hollow now.

gojo sighs heavily, his voice soft but firm. “we know we screwed up,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again. “and we're sorry. we truly are. we shouldn't have let our issues affect how we treated you. you deserve better than what we've given you.”

you take a deep breath, your voice trembling as you begin to speak. “i tried to take fewer missions because i know you both were worried. i wanted to be around more, to show you that I care. but every night... every night, when i’m in bed between you two, you turn your backs on me.”

your tears start to blur your vision, and you struggle to keep your composure. “no matter which side i turn, all i see is your backs. it felt like you were shutting me out, like I was invisible to you. i feel like i have nowhere to go, and feel more alone.”

the emotion in your voice is raw, and the tears that spill down your cheeks only deepen the weight of what you’re expressing. the room fills with the sound of your quiet sobs, adding a poignant layer to the shared moment of vulnerability.

their eyes widen as you continue, their expressions turning pained as you lay bare the depths of your hurt. gojo's grip on your hand turns almost crushing as he listens to your words, his heart clenching as he hears the anguish in your voice.

geto's face is pale, his throat bobbing as he swallows, the sight of your tears a physical manifestation of the pain they've caused. gojo's voice is rough, his eyes fixed on yours. “we didn’t think you felt that way,” he says, his voice hoarse. “we’re sorry. we were idiots.”

gojo’s other hand reaches up, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away some of your tears. “please don’t cry,” he mumbles, his voice cracking as he watches you cry. geto sits up straighter, his eyes fixed on your tear-stained face. “we’ll fix this,” he promises, his voice filled with resolve.

gojo nods, his eyes soft as they roam over your face. “please, just let us make it up to you,” he says quietly, his hand still holding your cheek.

you take a shuddering breath, your voice wavering but firm. “you know how it was at home before i came to jujutsu high. i was always walking on eggshells every day. i don’t want to feel that way with you two. i love you both so much, and it hurts to feel like i’m just an afterthought.” the weight of your words hangs in the air, a poignant reminder of your vulnerability and the deep emotional connection you share.

you look at them with a mix of sadness and fear, your voice trembling. “and i feel so scared because i’ve started to think that maybe I should leave. i don’t want to, but the way things have been... it makes me wonder if staying is just going to hurt more.” the admission is heavy, your fear of leaving mingling with the pain of feeling disconnected. It’s a vulnerable moment, revealing the depth of your uncertainty and the impact their actions have had on you.

their eyes widen at your words, their expressions changing from guilt to fear. gojo’s hand tightens on your cheek, his eyes turning desperate, while geto’s hands clench into fists in his lap. gojo’s voice is strained, his eyes searching yours. “please don’t talk like that,” he murmurs, his tone pleading. “please don’t even think about leaving.”

geto scoots to the edge of the armchair, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. “you don’t have to go. we can fix this, just stay.”

they know, from the moment you first got met each other and you told them they were going to go down in history as the world’s biggest idiots instead of swoon over them, that you’re not the type of person to be a pushover. they’ve always admired how you refuse to let anyone disrespect you or treat you as less than you deserve. from the beginning, they understood that once someone starts treating you badly, you’re ready to leave—no matter how much you love them—because your self-respect has always been paramount.

and now, as you stand before them, telling them that if leaving is what it takes to keep yourself at peace, you’ll take that chance and face the consequences, they can feel the weight of that truth. their admiration for your strength has always been part of what they love about you, but now that very strength threatens to take you away from them.

the fear in their eyes deepens, a reflection of the realization that they’ve pushed you to the edge, and they know you won’t hesitate to step away if it means preserving your sense of self-worth.

they sit in stunned silence for a few moments, the weight of your words sinking in. they know you well enough to know that when you say you'll leave, you'll follow through. the thought of losing you, of losing what they have, is too painful to bear.

geto breaks the silence first, his voice soft but filled with an edge of desperation. “you don’t have to leave. we can fix this.” gojo nods frantically, his hand on your cheek holding you more firmly now. “please, don’t talk about leaving,” he murmurs, his eyes pleading.

you take a deep breath, feeling the tension in the room as they hold onto you, their desperation clear. “i did think about leaving,” you admit, your voice is soft but steady. “but it was just for a second because i can’t bear the thought of living without you two. i love you both too much, and that’s why i’m here, willing to talk.”

their grip on you tightens slightly, a mix of relief and guilt washing over their faces. geto’s shoulders relax a little, and gojo’s eyes soften as he hears your words. “i don’t want to lose you,” you continue, “but i need to know that things are going to change. i need to feel like i matter to you as much as you matter to me.”

they both nod slowly, understanding the seriousness of the situation. their hands remain firmly on you, desperate to maintain whatever connection they still have with you.

gojo’s eyes are filled with remorse, his voice soft. “you matter to us,” he says quietly, “so much more than you ever realize. we’ve been idiots. we took you for granted, and we didn’t give you the attention and care you deserve. that ends now.”

geto nods, his expression taut. “we’ll do better,” he says firmly, his voice filled with determination.

they both hold onto you tightly, as if trying to convey the depth of their feelings through touch alone. gojo’s eyes are fixed on yours, his expression filled with remorse. “we’ve been so focused on our own problems that we neglected you,” he mutters, his voice soft. “that won’t happen again. we swear it.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand reaching out to hold your other cheek softly. “we were stupid,” he says bluntly. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you were almost gone.”

you intertwine your hands with theirs, holding onto them firmly as you look into their eyes. “i’m not going to apologize for how i acted this past week,” you say, your voice calm but resolute. “i was just trying to give you a taste of your own medicine, to make you feel the effects of your actions. but that doesn’t change the fact that i love you both so much.”

they both nod, their eyes dropping to your intertwined hands. they know you're right, that you don't owe them any apologies. they have hurt you, and they know it's up to them to make amends.

gojo speaks first, his voice soft but firm. “we don’t expect you to apologize,” he says, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek. “we deserve what we got. you had every right to react the way you did.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we were selfish, careless,” he murmurs. “we’re sorry.” you smile softly at them, feeling the weight of their remorse in the way they hold onto you. “i don’t mind you prioritizing your work,” you say gently, your fingers tightening around theirs. “you’re the strongest jujutsu sorcerers, and people rely on you. it’s your responsibility, and i understand that. i just don’t want you to turn your backs on me again.”

their expressions reflect the truth of your words. they know the demands of their profession, and they know they'll always be expected to prioritize their work. but they also know they messed up by neglecting you in the process.

gojo’s eyes stay fixed on yours, his voice low. “we won’t let that happen again,” he promises, his hand gently squeezing your cheek. “we’re going to find a way to balance our responsibilities and give you the attention you deserve.”

you lean your side against gojo's chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his body. with your hands still intertwined with theirs on your lap, you look up at them, your voice gentle but firm. “please, just talk to me when you’re feeling down or overwhelmed or anything,” you ask, your eyes searching theirs for understanding. “i’m here for you, and i want to help. but i can’t if you shut me out.”

gojo wraps his arm around you as you lean against him, his eyes softening as he listens to your words. geto nods in agreement, his grip on your hand gentle but firm.

gojo’s voice is soft, filled with a hint of guilt. “we know,” he says quietly. “we were wrong to shut you out. we promise we’ll communicate better from now on.�� geto’s expression is taut but sincere. “we’ll talk to you when we’re struggling, and we’ll make sure you’re still a priority.”

you smile softly at them, a sense of relief washing over you as you feel the sincerity in their words. “thank you,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude. “thank you for trying to sort things out instead of just letting it be.”

they both look at you, their eyes filled with a mix of guilt and love. gojo’s arm tightens around you, holding you closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your hand in his. gojo nods, his expression firm. “you’re too important to us to let things fall apart like this.”

geto's voice is soft but determined. “we’ll do whatever it takes to make it right again.”

they sit with you in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the air filled with a mixture of relief and unspoken emotions. gojo's hold on you remains firm, his broad chest firm and warm against your side, while geto's hand gently intertwines your fingers with his.

finally, gojo speaks, his voice soft. “can you promise us something?”

you hum softly in response, your curiosity piqued by gojo’s gentle tone. you glance up at him, waiting for what he has to say, still feeling the warmth of their touch grounding you.

gojo's eyes meet yours, his gaze unusually serious. “promise us that you won’t shut us out either,” he says quietly. geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we want to know when you’re not okay,” he adds, his voice firm but gentle. “we don’t want a repeat of this week. we don’t want you to feel like you have nowhere to go.”

you nod softly, feeling the sincerity in their words. “okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. the promise settles between you all, a silent understanding that things will be different moving forward. the weight of the past week begins to lift, replaced by a sense of renewed connection.

they both nod at your response, a visible relief washed over them. gojo's grip on you tightens again, his arm holding you even closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your fingers in his.

they both watch you for a few moments, their gazes filled with a mixture of love and newfound determination. they can feel the shift in the air between you, and finally, gojo speaks again, his voice quiet.

“can we ask you something?”

gojo smiles faintly, the sight of your smile melting away some of the tension in his own face. he glances at geto, who nods slightly, before returning his attention to you. “can we sleep with you tonight?” he asks, his voice soft and sincere. “we miss you.”

you playfully roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “of course,” you say softly, “i miss you too.”

they both exhale a sigh of relief, their expressions relaxing instantly. gojo’s arm squeezes you again, his body pressing against you firmly. geto’s grip on your fingers tightens slightly as his eyes linger on your face.

gojo’s voice is low, the relief clear in every syllable. “thank god,” he mutters, his voice heavy but filled with something soft and sincere.

geto nods slightly, his eyes meeting gojo’s for a moment before he turns his gaze back to you. “we missed holding you,” he says quietly, his voice equally as sincere. you look at geto, noticing the lingering guilt in his eyes. geto’s gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting the lingering guilt. “come here,” you say softly. when you tell him to come closer, he moves to kneel between your legs, his expression still marked by regret.

as you slip his long hair behind his ear, your touch is gentle and reassuring. “you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” you say softly, your voice filled with understanding. “i know you care deeply, and that’s why this hurts. but you’re not alone in this.”

geto's shoulders slump at your words, the weight of his guilt visibly lessening. his eyes stay fixed on yours, the regret in them slowly being replaced by a soft vulnerability.

he leans into your touch, his head tilting slightly involuntarily at the touch of your fingers to his hair. “i know,” he mutters, his voice still heavy with guilt. “i just wish i hadn't let it get this bad.” geto’s voice is soft, the regret and guilt audible in it. “i just… i just can’t forgive myself for causing you pain,” he murmurs, his voice strained.

you give him a reassuring smile, your voice gentle. “i’m not in pain anymore, so you can stop feeling guilty,” you say softly. “we’ve talked things out, and we’re moving forward. it’s okay to let go of that guilt now. we’re okay.”

geto’s eyes search yours, the guilt still visible but diminishing by the second. he nods slowly, his expression taut but hopeful. he speaks softly, his voice still laced slightly with regret. “i know. but i just… it’s hard to shake this feeling, you know? it’s like a knot in my chest that won’t loosen.”

you lean down and gently kiss his chest, then move to his neck and jaw, your touch tender and soothing. each kiss is a silent reassurance, conveying that you're okay now and that you're not mad at him anymore. your actions are meant to comfort and ease the lingering regret he feels, showing him through your touch that things are healing.

his breath hitches at the feel of your lips on his chest, his body tensing for a brief moment before melting into your touch. each press of your lips sends waves of comfort through him, the knot in his chest loosening with every gentle kiss.

he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer, his grip tight and unyielding. when your lips reach his jaw, he tilts his head to give you better access, his eyes fluttering shut. you pull away slightly, your hands still resting gently on his shoulders. you look into his eyes with a soft, reassuring gaze. “don’t feel guilty anymore,” you say gently. “we’re okay. let go of that weight you’re carrying. we’re moving forward together.”

his eyes open slowly, meeting yours. the guilt in his eyes has lessened even more, replaced by a deep vulnerability and newfound trust. he nods slowly, his hands gently pulling you even closer to him.

he leans his forehead against yours, his voice soft and sincere. “i’m trying, i promise,” he murmurs. “i’m trying to let it go. it’s just… it’s just hard, sometimes.”

“shut up, stop it,” you softly murmur. you gently move your hands from his shoulders to his neck, guiding him closer. “come here,” you whisper softly, pulling him towards you until your lips touch his.

he smiles faintly at your soft command, his body willingly moved closer to yours. he doesn’t protest when you gently pull him closer, his eyes closing instinctively as your lips meet his.

the kiss starts slow and hesitant, his body tense against yours as if he’s expecting you to pull away at any second. but gradually, his lips soften, the tension in his body melting away as he surrenders to the tender connection. as geto continues to lean towards you, your back gently presses against gojo’s firm chest. gojo's arms instinctively wrap around you from behind, his presence a comforting anchor as you and geto share a tender kiss. the closeness between all three of you creates a cocoon of warmth and reassurance.

[phant0mth1ef]

i kissed the scars on her skin, i still think you’re beautiful.

-

can be read as part 3 to this boy’s too young to be singing the blues, or as a standalone :3!

-

empty. your hospital room was empty. void of all life. the sheets were as if nobody had slept there in years, the window shades were put back to their normal, idle position, and all the decorations that class a had put up for you were now gone.

but he was still directed to the room where you were supposed to reside. he stood at the doorway, his jaw open as he stared inside, trying to look for any signs of life. because why else would they send him here if you weren’t there? you were still alive. right?

he was worried, to say the least, until he heard quiet muffled sounds coming from behind him, you were standing, your iv was right next to you as you looked up at the boy with half-lidded eyes.

“hi katsuki.” you yawned.

“you spent all that time asleep and you’re still tired?!” there was the snarkiness and attitude you knew and loved.

“exhausted really. come in.” you motioned for the boy to follow you as you made your way to your bed, sitting down and patting the space next to you.

“why’s it look like a grey’s anatomy scene in here?” he was always so blunt, even if you were currently in the worst shape possible.

“didn’t wanna get too comfortable. i don’t plan on living in here any longer than i have to.” something was off. you didn’t have that stupid happy go lucky smile on your face.

“my quirk. they took my quirk.” you looked down as the tears welled in your eyes, trying to smile but it was quickly broken.

you never knew what to do with your hands, so you just played with your fingers whenever you were scared.

“that’s what you’re so upset about?! you almost died.” even when you’re feeling down he still manages to scold you.

“i know but,” you sniffled.

“i just-. i really wanted to become a hero with you katsuki.” the boy was never one for emotions, choosing to hide them rather than showcase them.

but in that moment, he slowly felt his hard exterior crumbling as he swore his heart begun to break, you had meant every word you said to him, your tears were real tears.

“tch. you’re real dense, ya know that?! you’re already a hero dumbass. you fought in that stupid war. you earned the right to be called a hero.” he looked away from you, not meeting your eyes because he refused to let you know he was crying.

until you heard him sniffle, and you pretended not to laugh even though your own eyes were filled to the brim with tears.

“you cryin’ katsuki?” a laugh had slipped out as he angrily snapped his head back to face you.

“hah?! no! it’s just stuffy in here.” it was hard to watch him pretending to be tough while he had a tear falling from his eye.

“s’okay to cry, y’know.” you leaned your head on his shoulder, and he turned at your sudden action.

then proceeded to put his head on your head, making mitsuki nearly jump at her son’s sudden actions, and yet she was quick enough to grab her camera, quickly snapping a photo.

the same photo that bakugou had looked back on after eri had successfully rewinded your body to the time when your quirk was still a part of you.

the same photo that was on display at your wedding, along with about a gazillion childhood pictures of you both, you both had been in the background of many pictures despite never knowing each other, it was as if an invisible string had tied your souls together.

and sure enough, the photo was hung in your shared home, along with another picture of you both as pro heroes, your children walking by it every day on their way to school.

[suuuupernovaaa]

Treat | Hobie Brown x f!Reader

Your innocent image is shattered when Hobie finds your hidden piercing.

Art credit.

Requested by @friedturtlewhispers. Essentially this, with a different piercing.

Mature. Smut. 18+.

The show hasn't been over for two minutes yet when I feel two strong hands on my waist, gripping tight and pulling me backwards. I nearly spill my drink on the already sticky floor of this underground bar as Hobie spins me around, and brings his lips crashing down on to mine.

"Oh!" I let out a muffled gasp of surprise, and feel Hobie's lips turn up into a smile as they still rest against mine. He pulls away, and takes my drink out of my hand. He brings it to his nose, and takes a sniff. "Gin?" He wrinkles his nose, and I open my mouth to defend my choice, but he's already downed it in one gulp.

"Let's get out of here," he says, grabbing my hand and pulling.

"Oh, okay - bye!" I say over my shoulder to the guy I was talking to at the bar - a big fan of the band, who stands with his jaw agape. I find it awkward to mention that I'm sort of, semi, casually but not really casually, dating a band member. It feels like bragging, probably because I'm so proud of it.

We're outside in the cool night air before I know it, and there's a ringing in my ears from the show.

"Did you like it?" Hobie asks as we turn right, heading towards my apartment.

"I always like it," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Why did we leave so fast?"

He leans over, smirking down at me. "I want to be alone with you."

--

As I flop back onto the couch, I hand Hobie the beer he requested. He takes it, and immediately leans forward, setting it on the coffee table. before even taking a drink.

Unable to help myself, I pick it up and place it on the coaster that was only inches away.

Hobie rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "You can't spend your whole life cleaning up after me."

I shrug. "Sure I can."

He bumps his shoulder into mine, and I lean back into him. Even though I enjoy spending the weekends out with Hobie, lingering in the bars after his shows until the wee hours, it feels so much more my speed to be back home before midnight, relaxed on the couch, just the two of us.

"This is nice," I say with a contented sigh. Hobie's feet are up on the coffee table, and my legs are crossed, one of my knees resting in his lap. He runs his fingers over my bare leg, starting on my shin and up over my knee. The lights are off, and the dull light of a horror film is the only thing lighting the room. I don't really like scary movies, but Hobie enjoys them as background noise.

I lay my head on his shoulder as his hand moves further up, brushing against the fabric of my skirt, and pausing for a moment as if to ask for permission.

We've been seeing each other for a while, enjoying each other's company and getting to know each other, but physically, it hasn't gone all that far. It almost has, a few times, but Hobie's always had some emergency to attend to.

I feel a little foolish... but I'd almost like to be able to call him my boyfriend before we go any further. I know we're adults, but the label means something to me, anyway.

When I don't protest, his fingers snake up under my skirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My breathing is coming more rapidly now, my heart pounding, and his fingers are almost at my panties now. I'm stiff as a board, tense, waiting for his next move.

"Before we... can I ask you something?" I say.

"Anything, love," he replies, but doesn't move his hand. He's tracing soft circles on my inner thigh, and it's hard to gather my thoughts. I remove my head from his shoulder so I can look at him.

His eyes are dark, his lips parted just slightly, and when I glance down, I see the bulge in his pants. I feel an ache in my lower stomach, and wetness between my thighs.

"Are you, or like, am I your..." The words are going as fast as they're coming, and my mouth is dry.

"You're my girl. My only girl. I'm yours." His words are assertive, sure, and his gaze is locked steadily on mine.

I grab his shirt, pulling him to me for a desperate kiss, so elated with his words and so beyond ready for him to do absolutely anything he wants to me.

Leaning back to lay on the couch, I pull him so that he's on top of me, he settles between my legs while his tongue explores my mouth.

His hand finds its way up my thigh again, and runs underneath the waistband of my underwear. His thumb dips down and brushes softly over my clit, and I gasp.

So does he.

"What's that?" he asks, and a blush settles over my cheeks. He sits up just a little, so he can look me in the eyes. "Is that a... piercing?"

I purse my lips a little and nod. "Yes."

"Fuck me, Y/N." He brings his mouth back to mine with twice the fervor of before, and pulls my panties to the side as he does, running two warm fingers over my clit, down to my entrance, and back. "I can't believe... you have that pierced. Oh, fuck, I'm so hard," he moans into my mouth, and I arch my back off the couch as he uses his fingers to trace circles around my piercing.

"Oh, Hobie," I moan, grasping his back. He sits up suddenly, removing his hand from me, and I collapse back onto the couch in a huff.

He takes his vest and shirt off, and then pulls my panties and skirt down over my legs. There isn't a moment to breath before his face is between my legs, and he takes my clit into his mouth, sucking and biting gently, then dragging his tongue down to my entrance to gather the wetness that is quickly forming there.

"Hobie!" I gasp, holding his shoulders tightly. He doesn't let up. He brings up two fingers, teasing at my entrance as he takes my clit back into his mouth, and pushes them gently inside me. "Oh, God," I moan, pressing down onto his fingers as they fuck me.

He's making the most delicious noises, humming and grunting and moaning as he works, showing me no mercy. I feel absolutely desperate with need, and every time he thrusts his fingers in, I grind down on them.

"Oh, god, oh, shit," I gasp as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. He rolls the piercing around his mouth with expert precision, working delicately and then biting down, keeping me always guessing, driving me to ecstasy.

He pulls away just for a moment to look up at me. "Cum for me," he demands, and when he brings his lips back to my swollen mound, I explode. I scream his name as I do, unashamedly loud in my orgasm, and he continues his assault, giving me wave after wave of pleasure, until I am absolutely exhausted.

He brings his head up to mine, and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"What the fuck, Y/N?" he says with a teasing smile, and kisses me firmly. "That's a hell of a surprise."

I grin shyly back at him. "That's the point."

"You're so... innocent. Your ears aren't even pierced! You almost never swear. You go to church, for christ sake!"

I roll my eyes. "Only on holidays with my parents."

"Still," he replies with a laugh. "What a fuckin' treat."

[clarkeybabey]

❝ everybody wants a taste ❞

# summary; sharing is not always caring

# playlist; jealous, nick jonas, gold rush, taylor swift, the boy is mine - remix, ariana grande, brandy, & monica!

# word count; 1.2k

# note; I did not intend for this to be so long originally, whoops. kinda hate this

"And you're positive you don't wanna come along, darlin'," George asks for what seems to be the hundredth time this evening as he pulls his coat on, he's been begging for you to rethink your decision for the last twenty-five minutes, and you aren't budging this time.

Shaking your head, "I can't leave my baby two nights in a row, honey, that's outrageous," you frown, gesturing down to your dog who has cuddled herself up against the blanket that's still warm from the dryer. He groans, tossing his head back in an attempt to gain extra sympathy points, "Plus, all this laundry and love island to catch up on."

He comes trudging back towards you, flopping down on the bed dramatically, "Don't wanna go without you," he pouts and you kiss his jutted-out lower lip, when you pull back he's fighting a smile and losing miserably, "I'll be right here waiting for you to get back, I'll even try an' stay up for you, okay?"

Defeated he sighs, ""Kay, I love you," he kisses you this time, a real one, long and slow. His hand comes up to find the pulse point on your neck as his tongue slides against yours.

You catch on quickly, grabbing his shoulders and giving a light shove, "I love you and you know how much I enjoy your kisses, but go have fun with your friends, my lips'll be here when you get back home."

Standing up from where he had thrown himself just moments ago, mumbling, "Fine, fine, I'll fuck off," he throws a wink and a kiss at you as he walks from your shared room, you hear his keys jangle as he grabs them from the hook, followed by a third goodbye, and the door being pulled shut behind him.

You stay exactly how he left you for a while longer, at least until the washer beeps when you get up to swap the laundry around, you find Poppy sat by the door staring at you with her tail wagging a hundred miles per hour.

The idea of a walk this late without George has you wishing you had let him stay, "Sad world we live in, Pop, wishing I had a man to keep me safe from the bloody dark," you let out a breathy giggle to yourself at your words as you shove one of his hoodies over your head and slide your slippers on.

The door slams heavily behind you as you trudge down the stairs, the cool air nipping at your once-warm cheeks wind rash was the least of your worries as you make your way down the street lamp-lit sidewalk, every sense heightening. When Poppy stops to sniff one you fish your phone out of your pocket, tapping through your friend's Instagram stories.

When you get to Chris' you notice George in the background of a video of him and Arthur. Not just George though, him and a girl, he's leaned against the bar on his elbow, smiling at something shes said. It's friendly, and probably a fan, but why has she been touching his arm for what feels like ages? The video felt like it was nearly three hours long.

Screenshotting, you zoom in on the two, not even noticing the scowl that's situated on your face. You feel a pit in your stomach and it burns a hole straight through you, you're not usually the jealous type, but you're never left home either. Fans know you exist and they've slowed down the whole throwing themselves at him thing quite a bit, George never establishes boundaries, assuming they know where the line is.

Deciding you've seen enough of that, you tap through to the next slide, this time it's the four of them standing together, arms over each other's shoulders: Arthur, Chris, George, then the girl you swear you've never seen in your life. Both posts have been up for just under ten minutes.

That was enough social media for the evening, you internally establish on your walk home, turning your phone off just in time for it to buzz from what you assume is a text that you don't even bother glancing at.

Once you've made it back inside, you no longer feel like doing any more laundry, instead you kick off your shoes, hang your jacket up by the door, snuggle up in the warm duvet, and press play on your show. Before you know it you have watched two hours' worth of Love Island and fallen asleep, you don't even notice when the boys come fumbling back into the flat.

That is until George's cold hands meet your cheek, you push him away mumbling about him fucking off, and turn away from him. He snorts and apologizes with his hands up in surrender he knows you can't see, "Better change your clothes and brush your teeth, no outside clothes on my clean sheets," and he does just that before returning from the ensuite, scooting into bed behind you, pulling you into him.

You do your best not to let him cuddle up to you, letting your jealousy overpower how much you'd missed his presence alone, "Missed you lots, sweetheart, Chippo was asking 'bout you." You hum, not bothering with a verbal reply and he quickly picks up on how abnormally stiff you are against him.

"Something wrong," ignorance is bliss and sometimes your boyfriend is exactly that, but you can't blame him for being so confused this time. In his mind, he wasn't even home to piss you off so he's stuck raking through his mind in search of one thing, anything relatively bad he's done through your whole relationship

You shrug, finally speaking up, "No, jus' saw Chris' story, jealousy's a disease and mine chronic," he can hear the pout in your voice, doing his best to stifle a giggle, and failing as your feel rattle through his chest, "Nothing to be jealous of, darlin', she only knew me from your tiktok," he snorts as his fingers draw shapes on your back beneath your shirt.

And now you feel silly for ever thinking something strange was happening, this was exactly why you hardly ever got jealous, it was always something like that or "She just wanted me to get a picture of her with Arthur."

There was never a time where he made you feel as if you shouldn't be secure in your relationship, but when you're left alone your mind does such stupid things, "Dont feel silly, any time anyone comes up to you, I feel the same way, just bite my tongue, 'cause I don't want you to think I don't trust you."

"And before you say it, I know you trust me, if you didn't we wouldn't have me it this far," he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your nose, and finally your lips. He smiles against your mouth, and when he speaks again his toothpaste-y breath fans over your face, "Now g'night, beautiful, I love you more than you know."

All of a sudden you're a puddle in his arms, "Goodnight, I love you... so much," this time he can hear the smile in your voice at the sound of it he can't fight one of his own.

[john-get-the-salt]

Tight Leash w/ Roy Kent

Imagine: Roy has managed to keep his feelings for you to himself….until one night he’s unable to hold onto them any longer.

Contains: fem/reader, cursing, Roy losing his absolute shit in the best way, sexual innuendos

Warnings: none

“I can’t believe I ever let you convince me to wear this.”

“Babes you look phenomenal,” Keeley preened.

You might not have had the option to skip the fundraiser event you were about to enter, but you did have the option to wear something more….lowkey. You did tend to keep it lowkey, as one of the clubs media specialists. Keeley handed all of the flashy bits, the paparazzi and signings and public appearances. You tended to a lot of the background stuff; the sports articles and communications within the league, and the clubs various websites and platforms. Ever since you joined the team nearly a year go now you liked to work in the background, liked being unnoticeable.

Unfortunately you’d become best friends with Keeley Jones-the most noticeable person on the planet. And when you learned you had to attend some annual fundraising gala Rebecca was putting on, Keeley made it her life mission to convince you to wear something daring. And in a moment of weakness you’d agreed.

But now that you were present at the gala and it was almost your turn to walk to press carpet, you were having some serious regrets.

“Seriously Keeley, I feel ridiculous. One of the guys is going to see me and bust out laughing. This is something Rebecca would wear and pull off, not me.” Not to mention the carpet ahead was daunting. Cameras flashing constantly, held by shouting, viperous paparazzi.

“Hey,” Keeley pulled you to the side, forcing you to look at her instead of ahead at the walk into the hall. “No matter what mean things your brain are telling you right now, you look phenomenal. And when the guys see you, when Kent sees you-they’re gonna be lost for words.”

You flushed, because of course your best friend couldn’t resist mentioning the man you had a huge thing for. She never let it go after you let it slip one night. The two of you were just friends, no matter how much Keeley insisted that Roy was in love with you. You two had hit it off shortly after you started, appreciating each other’s dry sense of humor and love of cursing. Besides Keeley he was your best friend. But that was it-no matter how much you daydreamed of more.

"You've got this babe, i promise. Don’t forget-you are a badass bitch." Keeley gave you a final smile and quick kiss on the cheek before she was being called up. She left your side and stepped out onto the carpet. The photographers went wide, bursts of light exploding. You were officially next.

You took a deep breath, in and out. You just wanted to be inside the gala with your people, having fun with the club and Rebecca and Keeley. Unfortunately, this carpet stood in between you and them.

Just when you thought you had taken enough deep breaths and were finally ready, you heard a sharp inhale behind you. You risked a glance over your shoulder, finding Roy standing a few feet behind you. And you had to admit, he looked good. The all black attire did not surprise you but it did suit him. He was taking you in, slowly, from head to toe. Your outfit was all white, comprised of crisp high waisted pants and a corseted long sleeve top. (see visual below, I love a good visual, tho feel free to alter it in your brain to best suit you)

When his eyes finally rose to your chest he swore.

"Fucking hell."

"What was that, Roy?"

His eyes rose again, this time to meet yours.

Maybe it was Keely's words ringing around your head, or the way Roy couldn't keep his eyes off you, or the shot of whiskey you'd taken on the drive in. But regardless, you suddenly felt a smudge more confident. So with a final mental fuck it, you decided to embrace it. You relaxed your shoulders, straightened your spine, and as they called your name you smiled at Roy and gave a quick wink before you spun on your heel and took your first step out onto the carpet.

The cameras lit up, photographers crying for a spin, a turn, an angle, any bit of attention. You stopped a few times, allowing them pictures of you in different poses. The lights and the noises soon became too much however, so you kept it short before you strutted down the rest of the carpet and made it inside the gala building where Keely was stood waiting.

"Oh my god, you looked like a right model walking into a show," she gushed. "Those pictures of you are going to be jaw-dropping babe. And poor Roy's dragging his jaw against the floor."

You flushed as you let the excitable girl link arms with you and drag you towards the teams designated table. "I don't know what came over me, Ke. I just decided to go with it and channel my inner Rebecca. And I fucking winked at Roy. Who am I?“

"If he doesn't pull you away to ravish you by the end of the night I will."

You giggled with your friend, happily accepting the drink she got you.

"Ladies."

To your delight Coach Lasso approached, eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You both look down-right beautiful."

"Oh thank you Ted, you're looking quite handsome this evening."

"Well that's mighty kind of you. Now between the three of us, I was really just coming to let you know that Roy just stormed into the building like a starved man on a mission, demanding to know if I'd seen which way you went. The poor man looked so red in the face I was worried he was going to keel over."

You flushed, eyes suddenly finding the floor quite interesting.

"Now you two wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

"He's realizing that he's in love with her," Keely couldn't help but gush.

Eyes widening, you smacked her arm.

"Ow!"

"Keely! He is not!"

"Ah," Lasso hummed, chuckling a bit. "It's about damn time. The boys and I are getting tired of the silent pining."

"We are not- there is no silent pining." You argued, looking between your two friends.

“You two have been inseparable since you met. You spend more time with him then anyone else in the club, babes.”

“Kee, we’re just friends.”

"I don’t think he thinks that," Lasso gestured with his head and you followed his gaze, finding Roy stood across the room, staring straight at you.

Your heart skipped a beat as his intense eyes met yours.

"I need some water," you stated, the air suddenly too heavy to breath.

"I can-"

"It's ok, Kee," you interrupted, kissing her cheek. "I'll be back."

She nor Lasso argued, watching as you hurried away from the table and towards the bar. Roy was after you the next minute, speeding across the floor and past the table towards you.

"Those two...." Lasso trailed off as he shook his head.

"Idiots."

"Lovesick idiots."

-

You weren't really thinking straight when you rushed away from your friends. All you could think was that the weight of Roy's gaze was heavy, stifling, and you felt your chest constrict.

You stepped up to the bar and asked for an ice water, receiving it moments later. You thanked the bartender and glided over to a neglected corner of the room, where only a few stragglers buzzed around. It was quieter over here, and you could feel the ache in your chest ease slightly.

"Hey," a soft voice invaded your space.

You froze, turning.

Roy was stood there, looking down at you again with that intense dark gaze.

"Hi," you said softly, unable to stop your eyes from flickering down to his lips before quickly back up.

"You look....fucking beautiful."

A heat began in your cheeks, reaching down your neck and no doubt flushing your collar and chest as well.

"That word doesn't seem quite enough. Fucking....breathtaking." And the way he said it sounded like he was, in fact, breathless. His chest heaved, as he stood perfectly still in front of you.

The heat was beginning to prick at your stomach, and if Roy wasn't very careful it was going to continue to travel downward.

"Thank you. Everyone here looks pretty amazing."

"Sweetheart, I haven't so much as glanced at anyone else in here. How can I, when you look so...." he trailed off, lips parting silently.

"What?"

“I’ve been doing my best to keep what I was feeling on a tight leash. I never wanted to ruin…this. Our friendship. I don’t know what I’d do with it, but…”

You furrowed your eyebrows. He wasn’t making any sense. “What are you saying Roy?”

"Can I kiss you?"

Ok, the heat had officially traveled to your entire body. You felt like you were on fire, and all Roy was doing was looking at you. Never had you considered how much a simple question like that could affect you, but as you watched him wait in heavy anticipation, wanting to touch you but unwilling until you gave him permission, you became weak in the knees.

"Yes-" the word was barely out of your mouth before he was kissing you, trapping the word in between you. His hands cradled your face so delicately, like you were made of glass. You rested your hands on his chest, appreciating the muscle you felt under the suit.

His lips were so soft, and tasted faintly of the cherry chapstick you'd given him just the other day. He smelled of spicy cologne and his scruff tickled your face.

He pulled away, just enough to meet your eyes.

"I may be the most stubborn, selfish, miserable prick on this planet, but you make me feel like I'm so much more. And this may be the most selfish thing I ever do, but I don't fucking care anymore. I'm in love with you."

Your lips parted, eye searching his for any signs of deception. You couldn't find any.

"Im in love with you too, my miserable prick."

He choked on a laugh, his eyes glassy as he rested his forehead against yours. "God, I love you so fucking much."

"I love you even fucking more."

[benispunk]

Who's that girl?

Chapter 2: Make Yourself At Home

Y/N's finally moving in! Boxes are unpacked, the fridge gains a new photo, and everyone starts to settle into this new living arrangement.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, mentions of dark backgrounds and previous toxic relationships.

A/N: yay second chapter!! for the first few chapters we're going to explore our characters dynamics and then we'll get into business...hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it!! Again my first language isn't English and I ain't no professional writer. Alright, enjoy🩷

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part

The keys to the apartment jingled in Y/N’s hand, a symbol of the new chapter she was about to step into. She stood outside Logan and Wade’s door, nerves fluttering in her stomach. This was it. No going back. 

Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing Wade’s grinning face. 

“Would you look at that! If it isn’t our brand-new roommate!” He threw his arms out dramatically, making Y/N laugh despite herself.

“I haven’t even stepped inside yet.” she teased.

“As if I cared,”  Wade waved dismissively. “You’re one of us now! Come on in!”

Wade grabbed one of her suitcases with one hand and a bag in the other, and tossed them behind him with an exaggerated spin, gesturing for Y/N to follow him. She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the apartment she’d be calling home. This was going to be great.

Logan was in the kitchen, standing next to the coffee machine with his arms crossed, looking as calm as ever. “Hey” he nodded at her. 

“Hi!” Y/N replied.

“All right, newbie! It’s time for your super detailed apartment tour! I know you already got one, but this is the official one now.” He grabbed her arm and started dragging her through the living room. “Here’s the couch. You can’t sit here—this is Logan’s spot, and he’s very territorial,” he said, winking at Logan, who flipped him the bird.

“Next up,” Wade continued, leading her to the kitchen, “this is where Logan cooks for us sometimes, because he’s basically a dad, and we’re his helpless children.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Logan cut in, without looking up from his cup of coffee.

Y/N laughed, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease with each step of Wade’s tour. It was chaotic, but in a way that felt right.

“House rule number one,” Wade declared, grabbing a chair and climbing up onto it, in the middle of the kitchen, “you can only eat the last slice of pizza if you’ve fought Logan in a duel. Bare-knuckle.”

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m sorry, ignore him,” he said to Y/N, his tone softer now. “You’re allowed to have food. No duels required.”

Y/N smiled, grateful for his attempt to make her feel more comfortable. As they continued chatting and moving through the apartment, Wade’s constant jokes bouncing between the three of them, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of belonging. She had expected the awkwardness of moving into a place with two guys she barely knew but instead, she found herself laughing and easing into the space as if it was meant to be.

“You know,” Wade said, pulling Y/N back to the moment, “there’s one more room you need to see.” He gestured dramatically toward the far side of the apartment. “Your room!”

Wade pushed open the door, revealing a cozy space with a window overlooking the street below. It was simple, but Y/N felt a wave of relief as she stepped inside. “You already showed it to me the other day, but this is perfect.” she said.

“We try,” Wade said, leaning against the doorframe. “Also, house rule number two-”

“No more house rules,” Logan interrupted, his voice cutting in like a knife through Wade’s chaos. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, but his expression was softer now. “Just settle in. We’re glad to have you.”

Y/N gave him a grateful smile. She wanted to say something - whether it was about how great she was feeling right at this moment, or how she was so excited for what was about to come, she didn’t know - but instead, she nodded. “Thank you. I’m really happy to be here.”

Wade clapped his hands together, breaking the moment. “Good! Now that you’re officially part of this household, we need to throw you a welcome party!”

“Let her unpack first,” Logan muttered, his tone dry but amused.

As Wade launched into an enthusiastic plan for a future party, Y/N watched Logan from the corner of her eye. He didn’t say much, but the way he stayed close, ensuring everything was smooth, made her feel like she was already part of their world.

After a few hours of unpacking, Y/N had finally started to make her new room her own. It definitely wasn’t done, especially not in one afternoon, but it was coming together. Unboxing every box was exhausting, but satisfying. She could feel the space becoming hers with each personal touch. 

She stared at the walls for a few minutes, wondering what posters or pictures could adorn them, ones she didn’t have yet but could definitely order in an instant - not that she didn’t have any stuff to put on her walls, maybe she just needed an excuse to buy more stuff she didn’t need. But anyway, she was so excited.

By the time she’d finished for the day, the smell of dinner was coming from the kitchen. "Y/N, you okay in there?!" Wade's voice boomed through the wall.

Y/N laughed softly to herself and opened her door. "Yeah, I’m coming!" She stepped into the living room where Wade was dramatically arranging plates, acting like a five-star chef. Logan, meanwhile, sat at the table, rolling his eyes but with a hint of a smirk on his face.

"Your first official dinner with us," Wade declared, sliding a plate in front of her with a flourish.

“I call it ‘Mystery Meat Surprise.’”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a laugh. "Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted. "It’s just lasagna. Wade’s been practicing his introductions."

"Just lasagna?" Wade put a hand on his chest. « I put blood, sweat and tears into this meal.»

“For once.” Logan muttered, quietly enough for the other man not to hear.

“You really went above and beyond.” Y/N joked. Wade took his seat at the table and they started eating.

"Everything coming together?" Wade asked, grinning.

Y/N smiled. "Yeah, it’s finally starting to feel like a place I can relax in."

As they ate, the conversation flowed naturally. Wade, in his usual animated way, told a wild story about an encounter with an angry bar customer from the other night, while Logan added his dry commentary. Y/N was smiling the whole time, they really knew how to make her comfortable.

“So, Y/N,” Wade began, and maybe the comfortable comment was made too soon?, “tell us more about you. We know you’re a teacher, but what else? Any wild stories to share?”

Y/N smiled, but then hesitated. “Honestly, I’m not sure I have any. My life’s been pretty normal. Work, home, repeat.”

Wade scoffed, sitting up and narrowing his eyes playfully. “Bullshit. Everyone’s got something. What about that urgent move you had to make? That’s gotta have a story behind it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t planned on diving into that part of her life, but Wade’s bluntness left her with little choice. “Oh…that. Yeah, I guess you could say it was a little crazy.”

Logan looked up, sensing the shift in her tone. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he reassured her.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting to talk about it tonight.”

She took a deep breath, glancing between the two men who seemed to be quite invested in what she was going to say. “I was living with my ex-boyfriend. We’d been together for a while, and at first, everything was great. But then he started changing—getting controlling, possessive. He didn’t like that I was working so much, or that I had friends outside of our relationship.”

Wade leaned forward, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “What happened?”

Y/N swallowed, feeling a lump in her throat as the memories resurfaced. “It got worse over time. He started showing up at my school, accusing me of things, making scenes in front of my students. The final straw was when he… he trashed our apartment while I was at work, thinking I was cheating on him because I stayed late for a parent-teacher conference. I came home to find everything destroyed—furniture, photos, everything.”

Wade gasped loudly and Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists. “Did he hurt you?”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “No, he never touched me. But I knew I had to leave. I packed what little I had left and stayed with a colleague until I found this place.”

There was a heavy silence in the room as her words sank in. Wade’s usual grin was replaced with a look of genuine concern, and Logan’s eyes were dark, his expression unreadable.

“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” Logan said finally, his voice low but full of sincerity.

“Yeah,” Wade added, his tone surprisingly soft. “That guy sounds like a total asshole. But you’re better off without him, trust me.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and vulnerability. “You’re right, I’m better off now. I just wish I had left sooner.”

Wade reached over, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Well, you’re here now. And no one’s gonna mess with you while you’re living with us, right Logan?”

Logan nodded, his gaze still locked on Y/N. “Damn right.”

Y/N felt a warmth in her chest, a sense of safety she hadn’t felt in a long time. Despite everything she’d been through, she was starting to believe that maybe this move was the best thing that could have happened to her.

“Thanks, guys,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “I really appreciate it.”

Wade raised his beer bottle in a mock toast, his grin returning. “To new beginnings. And to kicking toxic exes to the curb.”

Logan lifted his glass as well, a hint of a smile on his lips. “To new beginnings.”

Y/N clinked her glass with theirs, feeling a sense of camaraderie and belonging that she hadn’t expected to find so soon. This might just work out after all.

———

Just as they were finishing up dinner, Wade leaned back in his chair, looking up at the fridge behind him where several pictures were tacked up. “You know,” he said, pointing his fork at the fridge, “we’ve all got something personal up there. Me and Logan, anyway. You should add something of yours.”

Y/N blinked, glancing at the pictures on the fridge— some of Wade with his bar buddies, a few candid shots of Logan looking less than thrilled to have his picture taken, and even a couple of the two of them together, probably from a trip or some random party.

“I don’t really have anything with me...” she started, but then she paused, remembering.

There is something.

“Actually,” she said, “I think I can find something.”

She stood up from the table and headed to her room, searching through one of the few boxes she hadn’t fully unpacked. There, carefully wrapped, was a small, faded photo. It was a picture of her as a little girl, standing between her parents, all smiles. It wasn’t just any photo—it was one of the few physical reminders of her childhood.

She walked back to the kitchen, holding the photo delicately. "This," she said, showing it to them. "It’s from when I was a kid."

Wade took the picture and grinned. "A family classic," he said, nodding in approval. "It’s perfect."

Logan glanced at the photo, his expression softening just a bit. "You sure you want to put it up here?"

Y/N nodded. "Yeah. It feels right."

Carefully, she placed the picture on the fridge next to theirs. The three of them stood there for a moment, looking at it, a small but meaningful addition to their growing collection of memories.

Wade slung an arm around her shoulder, his usual playful grin on his face. "Well, now you can officially call this place your home."

Logan nodded in agreement and Y/N grinned.

“You guys are going to make me cry” She said and Wade immediately raised his arms in the air in panic.

“Oh no no no no, let’s do something else, we don’t deal with emotions that easily in this household.”

��——

After the last box was emptied and most of her things were in their place, Y/N decided to take a moment to breathe. The room was still a work in progress, but it was starting to feel like hers. She stood by the bed, adjusting the pillows when a light knock on the doorframe caught her attention.

Logan leaned casually against the door, arms crossed. "Hey, just wanted to let you know, Wade’s out at his gig tonight. He’ll probably roll in late, so don’t be surprised if you hear him stumble in around midnight."

Y/N smiled, "Good to know. Thanks for the warning."

Logan returned the smile, a little more reserved as always. "No problem. How’s the room shaping up?"

"Getting there," Y/N replied, looking around at the half-unpacked boxes and the way her things were slowly finding their places. "Still feels a little strange, though. You know, first night and all."

Logan gave a small nod, his eyes scanning the room briefly. "It’ll feel like home soon enough," he said softly. "Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Logan."

Once Logan disappeared down the hall, Y/N returned to her work. She wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet— her mind still buzzing with the excitement of the day. After a while, she left her room with a stack of papers to grade, making her way to the living room. She settled on the couch, her focus consumed by her students' work as the time ticked by without her noticing.

She barely noticed the time slipping away as she worked through her stack of papers. The soft rustling of pages and the occasional scratch of her pen were the only sounds filling the living room. Her focus was sharp, and grading helped ease the whirlwind of emotions from moving in. This felt like the first time her parents let her sleep at her friend’s house, except she wasn’t a little girl anymore and this wasn’t her first time moving into a new place by herself.

It wasn’t until she heard the front door creak open that she snapped back to reality. Wade walked in, seeing her immediately. He flashed her a wide grin after closing the door behind him.

"Look who’s all settled in, Miss Teacher Lady," Wade teased. He dropped his keys on the counter and flopped onto the couch next to her without waiting for an invitation.

Y/N smiled back, amused by his energy. “How was your gig?”

“Oh, you know, killed it. I think I made one guy choke on his drink—not sure if I should be proud or worried about a potential lawsuit,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows. “What about you? Have you finally decided we’re not serial killers and it’s safe to stay here?”

Y/N laughed. “I’m still working on that one.”

“Good, good. Keep your guard up, never know when the knives come out,” Wade said dramatically, but then his expression softened. “Nah, seriously, you’re liking the place so far?”

Y/N glanced around the room. “Yeah, I like it. And you two are... interesting roommates.”

“Interesting? Is that a polite way of saying ‘Wade, you’re weird, but Logan’s got some kind of scary, brooding, mysterious vibe?’ Because if so, you’re spot on,” Wade chuckled. “Nah, but seriously, glad you’re here. Logan wouldn’t say it, but he’s stoked too.”

Y/N grinned. “Well, I’m really happy about that.”

He eyed her stack of papers. “What are you working on there, anyway? You grading the souls of innocent children?”

“Just some essays,” Y/N responded with a small shrug.

“Ah, essays. The bane of every student’s existence. But hey, if you ever need help with grading, I’m your guy. I’m great at making ‘C’ sound like ‘could’ve been worse’ and ‘B’ sound like ‘barely tried, but okay.’”

Y/N shook her head, laughing softly. “I think I’ll handle it for now.”

They chatted for a little longer, Wade effortlessly slipping between jokes and genuine questions about her life. He was easy to talk to, and despite his over-the-top personality, there was something comforting about his presence. Eventually, the fatigue of the day caught up to her.

“You heading to bed?” Wade asked, noticing her yawn.

“Yeah, I should,” she admitted, gathering her papers.

Wade nodded. “Alright, oh and— if you hear any weird noises in the middle of the night, it’s probably Logan sleep-talking. Or me… well, doing anything, really.”

Y/N smiled, standing up. “I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Wade.”

“Good night, Teach,” Wade said with a wink, making her laugh one last time before she headed to her room.

XXX

[nerdiel-has-no-braincells]

Cat Nap

ft. gojo satoru x gn!reader

summary: gojo had just gotten an earful from his teacher and is seeking you out. what he finds is unexpected ❦

a/n: i’ve been working on this short one for a while deciding on how long i actually wanted it but decided to keep it short but sweet

Satoru stretched as he walked through the halls of Jujutsu college. Yaga had given him another lecture about his lack of attention in the classroom. While Satoru had stayed behind, Shoko and Suguru had snuck off to smoke. You, however, disappeared, and he was trying to find you.

He knew you weren’t inside the school — the sun was shining and the weather itself was perfect for you being late Spring. You enjoyed spending time outside so Satoru knew you were outside somewhere.

Opening the door to the outside hall, his eyes wandered around, looking for that familiar figure.

Hands in his pockets, he wandered outside. You weren’t in the training grounds, you weren’t in the forest nor were you near the vending machines. He had one place to check, which was your favorite tree. The tree was big enough to shade you from the sun without taking away the warmth. Often Satoru would find you there and eventually it became the group’s lunch spot. It had a nice view of the city and the cherry blossoms in the Spring. It easily became his favorite spot as well.

As he neared the tree, Satoru looked up to see the top of your head. A smile appeared on his face as he felt his heart pound as he got closer to you.

Standing in front of you, Satoru tilted his head to the side and let out a quiet chuckle. You had fallen asleep, leaning against your favorite tree, earbuds in your ear and your mp3 player beside you. You were too cute.

Taking out his flip phone, he took a picture of you as you slept, making it his background.

The smile on his face matched the feeling in his heart; warm as he looked at his new background.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, he sat down next to you leaving no space. He told himself that he wanted to be there for you in case you fell over but in actuality he wanted to touch you.

He slowly and gently took your hand and held it, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

Looking at you, he wondered what you were listening to so he reached his free arm around and gently took out one of your ear buds and set it into his ear so that he could also listen to your music.

A warm and comforting song was playing and he immediately recognized what song it was—he’d caught you singing it one day when you were passing the training grounds on your way to the vending machines.

He felt at peace. It was the perfect sunny day where he spent time with the one who was perfect for him listening to the perfect song.

Closing his eyes, he let himself relax and lull into a deep sleep.

Shoko and Geto wandered around looking for the two of you. Satoru was meant to find you but it had been an hour with no word causing them to find Satoru as well.

What surprised them was the sight of you and Satoru sleeping against the tree, holding hands, your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, the two of you connected by earbuds. A smile was formed on your face while you slept as if you were dreaming of this exact moment.

The sight made Shoko and Geto want to let out an audible ‘awww’ but they didn’t want to risk waking you up.

Instead, they took out a camera and took a photo of the two of you.

Shoko planned on printing two copies; one for you and one for Satoru. The two of them knew of your feelings for each other, but the both of you were blind to the other’s feelings. She secretly hoped this would help you understand each other’s feelings and finally, finally get together.

Turning back around, they decided to let the two of you have your time together. They’ll just tell Yaga they couldn’t find you once training started.

tags: @mrsyixingunicorn10 @cinnaa-x @xamilarin @cloudsinthecosmos @rivaiken @vr00m-vr00m @shycreatorsandwich @the-fab-killjoy

Sequel to Cat Nap here

Jujutsu Kaisen belongs to Gege Akutami

©️nerdiel-has-no-braincells Please do not copy, translate, and post as your own. Reblogs, likes, and comments are ok with me!

[silent-stories]

𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐍𝐎𝐀𝐇

aka spending some time with a very sleepy noah at the airport

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

The fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile, harsh glow over the airport terminal, reflecting off the polished floor you were sitting on and highlighting the exhaustion that hung in the air like a thick fog. It was the middle of the night, and the bad weather outside showed no signs of letting up.

The storm had rolled in faster than expected, grounding flights for hours and leaving the terminal packed with travelers who all seemed to be in the same state of weary frustration.

You glanced around, noting the rows of filled seats, people sprawled across chairs, bags tucked under their heads or against their chests, trying to catch any sleep they could. It was a sea of tired faces, everyone resigned to waiting out the storm.

A few rows over, Jolly, Folio, and Nicholas had spread out on the floor, each of them settling in for the long wait. Jolly leaned back against his backpack, scrolling through his phone while tapping his fingers rhythmically against his knee. Folio and Nicholas, crouched by a nearby vending machine, were peering through the glass, trying to decide between stale pretzels and some kind of fruit bar.

You shifted your gaze to Noah. He was standing a few feet away, staring blankly at the departure board, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Even from where you sat, you could see the fatigue etched into every line of his body. The long tour had been relentless, every night spent pouring his heart out on stage, every day moving from one city to the next, barely catching any rest in between.

You knew how much he loved it—how much he lived for the music and the energy of the crowd—but it had taken a toll. Now, with the tour finally over and the promise of home so close, the flight delay was like the final straw.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, the notification you’d been expecting. You unlocked it to check the latest update from the airline. Another two-hour delay. The flight that was supposed to take you back home was now pushed even further into the early hours of the morning. You groaned softly, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand.

Noah caught the sound and turned to you, his brow furrowed.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked, his voice rough, like he was fighting to stay awake.

“Two more hours,” you replied, shaking your head. “Looks like we’re not going anywhere for a while.”

He exhaled sharply, the sound part sigh, part groan. He walked over to you, his steps slow, like he had to remind his legs to move. When he finally reached you, he dropped down beside you on the floor without hesitation, his back resting against the cold wall.

The seats were long gone to other passengers, so the floor was the only option. He slumped there for a moment, his head tilting back to rest against the wall. His eyes drifted shut, his face a mask of sheer exhaustion.

“I don’t even have the energy to be annoyed,” he mumbled, half to himself.

You smiled softly, scooting a little closer to him. “I don’t think anyone here does,” you said, gesturing toward the scattered crowd around you, many of them in similar states of defeat.

He chuckled weakly, but it was a tired sound.

For a few minutes, you both sat in silence, the noise of the airport around you reduced to background static. You watched as his head slowly tilted forward, his chin dropping toward his chest.

He jerked awake once or twice, the familiar battle to stay conscious playing out in the slight twitch of his shoulders, the brief widening of his eyes. It broke your heart a little to see him like this, running on fumes.

Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand in yours, threading your fingers together. His hand was warm, his skin rough from years of playing guitar, but the contact seemed to ground him. His grip tightened around your fingers for a second, as if he was reassuring himself you were there. He glanced at you, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the soft hum of the terminal.

You smiled back, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey.”

Noah sighed, and his shoulders slumped even more, like just holding your hand had taken the last of his strength. He let out a breath, long and slow, and shifted closer, leaning into you slightly. You didn’t mind, scooting a little more to give him space. The floor wasn’t the most comfortable place, but it didn’t matter—not when he needed you like this.

After a few moments, Noah let go of your hand, moving to rest his head on your lap. He hesitated for just a second, his eyes flickering up to meet yours, almost like he was checking if it was okay. You smiled down at him, brushing a strand of his dark hair back from his face.

“It’s fine, Noah. Just rest,” you whispered, gently stroking his hair, encouraging him to relax.

That was all the permission he needed. His body seemed to melt into the floor, and he shifted slightly to get comfortable. His breathing slowed almost instantly, and within minutes, his eyes were closed, his face peaceful as sleep finally claimed him.

You looked down at him, your fingers still gently threading through his hair. He was always so strong, so full of energy when he was on stage, commanding the attention of thousands of fans with just his voice. But here, in the quiet of the terminal, he looked so vulnerable, so tired.

It was rare to see him like this, to see the weight of everything he carried so clearly written in the softness of his features. His features seemed softer in sleep, his lips parted just slightly as he breathed deeply, his body completely still.

The chaos of the terminal faded into the background as you focused on him. You kept running your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle, careful not to wake him. He shifted occasionally, nuzzling deeper into your lap, his breath warm against your leg.

Every time he moved, you smiled, feeling the quiet contentment that came from knowing you could be there for him, that you could give him this moment of peace when he needed it most.

Time seemed to pass in a blur, the minutes stretching into what felt like hours as you sat there, cradling Noah’s head in your lap, your fingers continuing their steady rhythm through his hair.

The sounds of the airport—the distant overhead announcements, the murmur of conversations, the occasional clang of luggage wheels on tile—became a distant hum, lulling you into a sense of calm.

Despite the uncomfortable floor and the exhaustion gnawing at your own body, you didn’t move. You didn’t dare disturb the fragile peace of the moment.

Noah shifted again, this time turning his face slightly toward you, his breath brushing against your thigh. His expression was so relaxed, so open in sleep, and you found yourself smiling down at him, your heart swelling with affection. It was moments like this—small, quiet moments—that reminded you just how much you loved him, how much you cherished these fleeting instants of vulnerability when he let his guard down.

After what felt like an eternity, you heard the faint ding of an announcement over the loudspeaker. The gate attendant’s voice crackled through the terminal, announcing that the weather was clearing and flights would soon be boarding. You checked the time on your phone—it had been almost two hours, just like they said. The wait was almost over.

You glanced down at Noah, who was still fast asleep, his breathing deep and steady. You hated to wake him, but you knew you didn’t have much choice. Leaning down, you brushed your fingers gently over his cheek, your touch light as you whispered, “Noah… Hey, it’s almost time.”

He stirred at the sound of your voice, his eyes fluttering open slowly. For a moment, he looked dazed, like he didn’t quite remember where he was. Then his gaze met yours, and a small, sleepy smile spread across his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he shifted to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. “Did I fall asleep on you?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, “But it’s fine. You needed it.”

He smiled, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned into your touch for a moment longer before sitting up fully. He stretched, his joints popping as he groaned softly.

Then, without a word, he leaned in, his gaze flickering down to your lips just for a second before he closed the distance between you. His lips were soft, warm against yours, and the kiss was gentle, slow, like he was savoring the moment. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his touch tender as he pulled you just a little closer.

You kissed him back, the noise of the busy terminal fading away as the world shrank to just the two of you. There was no rush, no urgency, just the quiet, sweet feeling of being with him in that moment, connected after a long, exhausting journey.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, and he smiled, his voice barely a whisper. “Thank you."

You smiled. “Always.”

As the gate announcement continued, you both stood, gathering your things, reuniting with the rest of the band, and getting ready to finally board the plane.

Despite the long wait and the exhaustion still clinging to both of you, there was a sense of calm between you—a quiet understanding that no matter how chaotic things got, you would always be there for each other.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion

[beansprean]

Exit Interview

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Bust of Nandor on a streaky blue background, leaning forward on one hand, the other raised in the air, palm-up. His eyes are closed on a nonchalant expression, head tipped down, as he casually states "Then it is settled. You are officially released from your service." 1b. Reverse shot of Guillermo, leaning forward as he stands from a chair, looking up at Nandor with a hesitant smile. He asks, "...That's it? I'm not your familiar anymore?" 1c. Close up of Nandor's left hand settling on Guillermo's shoulder as he responds, "Not my familiar, not my bodyguard..." 1d. Wide shot of them both standing in profile, facing each other, the background now streaked with gold. Nandor smiles down proudly at Guillermo, hand on his shoulder, and continues, "...but a fully-fledged member of the household. And my friend." Guillermo happily meets his gaze, lips pressed around a smile of genuine joy. 1e. Close up of Guillermo, the panel back to the streaky blue as the background beyond the panels begins to lighten to the grey of dawn. The next 4 panels are no longer square but angling inwards as if pulled together by an unseen force. Guillermo leans his head toward the hand on his shoulder, his own hand rising up to hold it, and smiles wide even as his gaze dips shyly. He asks, "So...what next?" 1f. Reverse shot of Nandor barking out a nervous laugh, gaze fixed on Guillermo as he replies, "What next indeed!" 1g. Zoom out to them both in profile, Guillermo's hand still on Nandor's hand on Guillermo's shoulder. Guillermo grins affectionately upwards as Nandor straightens and takes a step forward, nervous grin still wide and frozen on his face. He tosses out his free hand in some kind of shrug and says, "Well!" 1h. Repeat. Nandor steps closer still, and his flailing right hand comes to rest, very gingerly, on the side of Guillermo's face. Guillermo's hand slides down Nandor's arm as his left hand shifts to touch his neck, smile gentling as he blinks in surprise. Nandor's expression softens as well, head tilting slightly as he moves his gaze toward where his hand rests on Guillermo's cheek and he continues, "Perhaps..." 1i. Repeat, closer. Nandor has both hands on Guillermo's cheeks now, head dipping down so their noses are only an inch apart. His expression is almost dazed, as he murmurs, "Just..." Guillermo tips his head up as well, lips parted, his left hand sliding up Nandor's side. Their hooded gazes are each fixed on the other's mouth. The center of the panel begins to lighten with a white-gold glow as the shape continues to distort, parts of the characters stepping out of its bounds completely. The background behind the panels continues to get lighter, and the silhouettes of flying birds begin to fly in, closer and closer, growing lighter a step ahead of the background. 1j. Repeat. They move closer, Nandor's eyes now closed and head tilted as their noses slide past each other, lips only centimeters apart. Guillermo's hand slides up further to press against Nandor's ribs, gripping, his eyes still open the slightest amount as if to ensure this moment doesn't disappear. The panel lightens. The birds fly closer.

2a. Repeat. The center of the panel bursts into bright vertical beams of white and gold, the border bleeding from black to a wall of light as they close the final distance between them. Guillermo's eyes finally close, mouth pushing into the gentle kiss. 2b. Repeat, a wider shot as the glowing light inside the panel breaks the borders completely, flooding into the background as it begins to turn to streaks of purple and pink, birds now flying through the broken panel walls. Nandor pushes forward to deepen the kiss, hands clutching at Guillermo's face, Guillermo's head tilting back further as he presses himself close. 2c. Repeat, wider shot of them both now freely standing in the background, streaks of light blooming into yellow and orange. Guillermo is leaning back even further, fingers digging into the back of Nandor's shoulders as he is nearly dipped, their heads tilting the other way as the kiss continues. Nandor, expression blissful, smiles slightly into it. 2d. Close up in a panel bordered by light, the colors inside bolder and brighter: reds and oranges on top, blues and purples on the bottom, the center streaked with light. Both a sunrise and a sunset. They have broken the kiss and Guillermo has straightened, but they do not part from each other. Nandor's right arm curves around Guillermo's back and his left cups the back of his head, keeping him close as he nuzzles their noses together with a serene smile, eyes closed. Guillermo pushes up into the contact, flushed and smiling, one hand at Nandor's back, keeping them pressed together, and the other sliding up Nandor's chest. Guillermo lets out a breathy chuckle and whispers, "Yeah. That could be next..." /end ID

[lsunstreakerl]

Wait, What Video:

[Search History Verse]

Gianpiero stands from his chair, lets his fork ding elegantly against the side of his champagne glass. The reception is beautiful, floral arrangements stretching long down the dining tables, elegant greens and swaths of cream hanging from the beams of the outdoor veranda.

The quiet murmur of side conversations tapers off as everyone turns, gives him their attention. Gianpiero casts his eyes around at all of Max and Charles' precious people, drivers and family and everything in between.

The Redbull table had gotten predictably rowdy earlier when Max had gone over to say hi to everyone, but even they have settled.

He clears his throat. Max and Charles are sitting in their seats of honor, shoulders pressed together in their suits, hair perfectly styled. Max has laugh lines permanently etched around his eyes, and Gianpiero is so, so grateful he gets to see them, that his boy has grown into a man.

"For those of you who don't know me- first off, how?"

There's laughter across the tables, and he sees Christian wink at him from a few seats down.

"My name is Gianpiero, and I'm a father of the groom. If you're wondering which groom, please take a moment to see how much hair I don't have, and then remember who Max is."

Max muffles a giggle into his hand, mouths 'sorry' up at him without looking very sorry at all. Charles is grinning next to him before he looks up at Gianpiero as well.

"I have known Max since he was 16, and I've been bald pretty much that entire time. Having a teenager is stressful, and all the parenting books tell you that, but somehow the warning is never enough."

He takes another second, thinks fondly of teenage Max, shoulders he hadn't grown into yet, lanky legs.

"This might seem like an odd direction to take the conversation, but anyone who knows Max is used to that, so now you all get to find out he actually learned that from me. I have been with Max for every surgery he's ever had. I was there last year when they did the procedure on his eyes, I was there four years ago when his appendix burst, and I was there when he was getting his tonsils removed at eighteen."

Gianpiero looks back over at the Redbull table, sees some of them start to connect the dots. A faint "oh no" can be heard, which sends the other guests into giggles as Max narrows his eyes suspiciously.

"We've learned that Max gets pretty honest out of anesthesia, but I would like us to go back to that first operation, when he was eighteen. It was near the end of his first year at Redbull, and as a team, we'd been learning a lot about him- but also about Charles."

He sees Max's eyes widen, and Charles looks over at him, nudging him with his elbow and making a confused gesture with his hand. Max gives a helpless half shrug.

"Again, for anyone that knows Max, this doesn't seem odd, so I would like to point out that at that time, Charles was still in Formula Two, and they both still thought they were rivals."

More laughter, louder from the current and retired drivers, he can see Checo, Daniel, Pierre, and Carlos all looking at each other and rolling their eyes.

"So what I have here, is a video."

"Oh no- GP- wait-"

Max is making a little frantic face at him and Gianpiero laughs.

"Max is freaking out because he's been hearing about this video for over a decade and hasn't actually seen it yet. Those of you here from Redbull surely know what I'm talking about. If you would please turn your attention to the screen over there."

He sits, so he's not interrupting anyone's view.

The video starts, slightly shaky from being in Gianpiero's hand, as it lifts to show a hospital room. Teenage Max is laid out on the bed, tucked under a blanket. There's an audible noise of a vitals machine in the background as they hear Gianpiero speak, slightly muffled through the speakers.

'Afternoon, Max. How are you feeling?'

Max moves on the bed, eyes fluttering open as he grins in the cameras direction.

'GP! GP, did you know that I love you, and you are so cool, and-'

Gianpiero's giggles are clear in the video as Max cuts off for a moment, furrowing his brows.

'I'm flattered, Max. Clearly your meds have not worn off.'

'I'm on meds?'

Max is obviously thinking very hard for a moment, before his grin stretches even wider.

'Sick! GP that is so cool, I have always wanted to be high- he would be so jealous right now, I bet Charles wishes he was high as balls, GP this is great.'

The GP in the video is audibly trying to muffle his laughter.

'And how do you feel about Charles?'

Max groans, flops his head back on the pillow before immediately sitting up again.

'He is so annoying, and he has Justin Bieber hair, and really it is for the best that they keep drug testing him because it makes him very annoyed and it is funny. Also because he is having a very good season and I do not want anyone to think he's better than me. Did you know we're rivals? He pushed me off the track in karting once and I've never forgiven him, but he is so petty GP, it is like dealing with a woman, I don't know where he learned that from, he has two brothers.'

There's uproarious laughter from most of the drivers, Max has buried his head into his hands on top the table, ears crimson, Lorenzo is cackling, and Arthur looks ready to slide out of his chair from laughter, hand gripping the ring on his necklace laying across his chest.

Charles is smacking Max on the shoulder, and he's also red now, hissing French at him that sends the Leclercs into peals of laughter once again.

The video continues.

'Maybe it is just middle child syndrome, oh, and he also thinks he is gods gift to racing and that he is destined for Ferrari, so we have to build a car that can beat that stupid red team into the dirt, okay?'

The Gianpiero of the video can't hold his laughter anymore, the screen shaking as they see Max finally look over, offended at being recorded as GP speaks.

'Got it Max, we'll build you a car specifically designed to beat Ferrari.'

Teenage Max groans again.

'No, GP, you don't get it, it cannot just be for beating Ferrari, it has to be able to beat Charles in Ferrari, so it needs to be the very best.'

The video is shaky again as Gianpiero laughs, the phone swinging back down, and the audio just barely catches the last bit.

'Right, because we've been half-assing the car every other year.'

The screen fades to black as Lorenzo has to set his head on the table, shoulders shaking. Arthur is so red-faced that Logan, Oscar, and Fred look mildly concerned, but he waves them off with a hand, looking back at Charles for a moment before the giggles start again.

The tips of Max's ears are still bright red, and Charles is caught between laughing and also looking embarrassed, trying to coax his husband back up from the table.

Gianpiero stands again.

"I have been sitting on that video for years, because I knew while I was taking it that it would be played at a wedding. This wedding."

Max finally lifts his head from the table, looks up at GP. He's clearly still mortified, but. That's what parents are for.

"For all of us, this wedding was inevitable. We all knew we would be here eventually, but I want to take a moment, really tell you two that I have seen both of your strength and resilience, I have seen you fight and argue and follow each other to the ends of the Earth. I am so proud of you both."

He smiles at Max, tries to let all of his love and fondness and pride show through his face.

"It's hard, watching one of your kids get married, but it was never going to be anyone else, and I have had the honor and the privilege of watching them grow with each other, push each other to be better, find the love that works for them."

Gianpiero raises his glass, lets the rays of sunlight sparkle through his champagne and reflect on the couple.

"Here's to the newlyweds!"

[libbyfandom]

Let’s take a look inside Modern!Mizu’s Camera Roll! Featuring Reader and BES Characters (Companion Piece)

Screenshot of an undercut with long hair.

Screenshot of a wolf cut.

Picture of her tv screen showing her new high score at a video game. (To rub it in Taigen’s face that she beat his)

Her hand cupping the back of a pretty neck covered in hickeys.

Akemi death-gripping a trash can with her face buried into it as she hurls. The rollercoaster Mizu forced her on is in the background.

Selfie of her and her adoptive father at a baseball game. (She couldn’t get him to smile. He only hummed, which made her laugh)

Video of you asleep on her, your head on her shoulder and your hand curled up on her chest. Her fingers are gently brushing the side of your face for a minute, before your eyebrows pinch in sleep. You make a soft, stressed noise unconsciously. Her lips press to your temple for a long moment. “Shh shh shh.” Your expression relaxes again, and she goes back to gently stroking your cheek.

The full moon.

A video of Ringo coming up silently behind you and Akemi while you're standing in line at a coffee shop. You two turn around and nearly jumps out of your skin when you sees him. (He's always so silent)

Screenshot of a quote “How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become? -Doc Lubel”.

Her torn up jeans and bloodied outer thigh as she sits in the grass along the road, her crashed motorcycle in the background.

A video of her holding your wrists down in bed, oh so slowly pressing kisses all over your chest where she yanked your top up to your collarbone. Every once in a while she bites into your skin without warning, gripping your wrists tighter when your body arches and tries to twitch away with broken whines. She waits each time for you to stop moving, staring intensely up at you with your skin between her teeth, before she licks at the bite to soothe it away and restarts the cycle.

Video of her sitting on her bed practicing knife flipping.

Her hand holding a book titled "Waiting by the Front Door: Children of Parents with Addiction".

A close up of the price tag of the book "Waiting by the Front Door: Children of Parents with Addiction".

Saved selfie Ringo sent of the two of them on a hike.

Screenshot of a dinner reservation confirmation for two at a new restaurant downtown.

Video of Akemi in the middle of some rant in Mizu and Ringo’s living room. The darkness outside the window suggests it’s very late into the night. She gestures wildly at something off camera. “-and Taigen pees in the fucking shower-!” Taigen’s voice comes from somewhere off camera, loud and offended. “I aim for the drain!” You sit in the background behind Akemi, looking disturbed and distressed.

Screenshot of piercings. (For the wish list people are asking for)

A gif of a character going “Some god damn peace and quiet”. (For the wish list people are asking for)

The ocean.

Saved video Ringo sent of you two at the beach bonfire. You’re cuddled up into each other while sitting against a log, your legs overlapping hers. You’re both staring into the fire, absentmindedly playing with each others fingers where you’re holding hands on your lap. She’s never looked more relaxed.

You and Akemi in the backseat asleep on the drive back from the beach.

Saved photo you sent her of her and her adoptive father playing chess. Her brows are furrowed as she thinks over her next move, sitting properly with her hands in her lap. This is instead of how she usually plays with one leg propped up on her chair and elbow leaning on her knee when she plays with Akemi.

The one nice photo of just her and Taigen, posing in a big mirror at a dark, more upscale restaurant wearing suits.

Screenshot of receipt for two concert tickets on your birthday.

Ringo laying head down on a pile of finals notes in defeat at the library.

Screenshot of a text you sent of a grocery list.

A video in her “Hidden” folder that is 37 minutes long and requires a password that only she and you know.

Screenshot of the word “Bitch” in Barbie pink font.

You curled up on the couch fast asleep, wearing Mizu’s oversized college sweatshirt.

Saved photo Ringo sent of Mizu standing in the bathtub making a peace sign with one gloved hand as the other holds Akemi’s newly dyed and wet burgundy hair while Akemi is seen leaning over the tub so Mizu can rinse out the excess dye.

A picture of her hand holding an engagement ring nestled inside a green velvet box. She wanted Akemi’s opinion. So she’ll stop having an anxiety attack over what she picked.

[lilioopdf]

be here and be holy

pairing: reader x anyone! (no names again :p)

notes: 0.9k words, no warnings, all fluff (i think)

a/n: drafted this in like june…… i was just too lazy to actually write and edit it 😶😶 anyway i think this is an awkward timing to be posting a fic but sem break has arrived and i was finally in the right headspace and mood to write so yay 🎉🎉 if you’re reading this, i wish you a lovely day/night ahead! enjoy! 💗💗

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he’s just ended training, and you’re too far away, seperated by 16 hour flights and weird timezones.

his hair is slicked with sweat and plastered to his forehead as he’s sat on a bench in the changing room, back hunched over his phone, watching the little typing bubble that keeps popping up from your end, waiting for you to send the first text.

someone claps his shoulder as they make their way out, but he cannot be bothered to glance up at them, too busy fixated upon the typing bubble in your chat.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, he sees the text.

“how was training?” you ask, it’s short and simple, but he find himself smiling back at his phone nonetheless as he types back a reply, hoping he doesn’t seem too eager, too hopeful.

too in love.

a drop of sweat slides off his fringe and lands onto his phone screen. he knows he should probably go take a shower first, but he can’t help it— not when it’s you on the other end, asking him how his day was.

someone claps his shoulder as they make their way out, but he can’t even be bothered to look up at them, too busy staring at the typing bubble from your side of the chat.

and then it stops.

a call pops up instead. a video call.

he allows himself a quick second to comb his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look presentable for you before he picks up.

there’s laughter on the other end— must be your friends, he thinks.

he hears you hush them, shooing them out of the room before he hears the sound of a door close. your camera turns on, and he feels himself flush the moment he sees you. you’re so pretty, and he can’t help but stare.

it should be night where you’re at, right? that must be why the lighting’s so dim, why the camera’s so grainy, but it doesn’t explain why you still look so sweet, and as lovely as ever.

“hi,” he breathes out, noticing the way a shy smile makes its way onto your face.

“hi,” you reply, voice soft. you take a moment to register where he’s at, taking in his sweat slicked hair and the clear exhaustion present in his face.

your brows furrow, and you tilt your head, “you haven’t showered?”

he stills, stalling a little before shaking his head bashfully. “no, uh, i thought i’d talk to you first.” he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, watching as you try and hide the knowing look on your face.

neither of you know what to say next. you’re both shy, but you do like each others' company, even if it is made a little awkward at times by accidental longing glances and too long eye contact.

you've both been staring at each other through the phone screen for a while, but you're suddenly jolted out of the moment by knocking on your door.

"are you still talking to him?" he hears a friend of yours call out, and he swears he can hear the laughter they're holding back. he finds it amusing, almost endearing, how your face goes pink, stuttering slightly as you tell them you're almost done.

your friends erupt into laughter in the background, and you sit up in embarrasment, shyness covering your face.

"sorry, that's darla... i'll call you back later, okay? go take a shower and stay safe."

he nods, saying a quick goodbye, wishing you the same. he waits for you to hang up first, hand gripping onto his phone just a little too tightly.

he doesn't notice the older driver standing opposite him, watching as he said his goodbyes to you just a few seconds ago.

"is she pretty?" the other driver asks, eyes fixated upon the younger one, an almost teasing smile om his face.

there's a pause, and your sweet boy registers the way his heart is pounding wildly in his chest as he tries to keep his expression neutral.

"yeah," he replies quietly, cheeks tinged pink as he chews on the inside of his mouth, refraining from saying more. (truth is, he'd like to talk about you. about your laugh, your smile, your kindness, and your wit. but a gym locker room is no place for such a topic, and those are not things he should be thinking about a friend.)

the other driver presses on. "she must be nice, if you're hiding her away this much." there's a teasing lilt in their tone, and he ignores it, wishing he could continue his conversation with you instead.

"she is nice,” he replies, tone coming out a little defensive, ever ready to defend your honour. they give him a knowing look, and he clears his throat, speaking again. "she's kind. sweet."

he averts the gaze of the older driver as they try to read his expression. after a long moment, he feels a strong pat on his back. "good for you, son. i mean it."

there's a meaningful look in the eyes of the older driver, and he almost looks... proud. it looks likes he's refraining from saying more as well.

"you've been performing better." a pause. "you look happier too. good for you," they offer him a small smile. "treat her well, son."

and that is that.

he feels the knot in his chest ease a little. he's careful not to get too ahead of himself— you're only still his friend, after all.

one day, he promises himself. soon.

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© lilioopdf 2024 – please do not plagarise, repost, or translate any of my work on this or other platforms

thank you for reading this far! take care of yourselves and remember to stay hydrated and safe 💗💗

[anna-the-undertaker]

Indomitable Will

The human will is a force to be reckoned with... especially when they have something to protect.

Tags: @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @obeyme-sheeplife @caprinaesprout

Part 1: Adrenaline

MC awoke slowly, the sensation of soft sheets against their skin gradually pulling them back to consciousness. Their body felt sore, muscles aching with a dull, persistent throb that reminded them of the intense fight they had survived. As their eyes fluttered open, they recognized the familiar surroundings of their room in the House of Lamentation. The dim light of the Devildom's moon filtered in through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. They wondered how long they had been asleep.

Sitting up, they winced as the memories of what happened began to return in fragments—the ambush, the fight, the overwhelming rush of adrenaline that had kept them going after their body should have given out. They touched their side gingerly, feeling the smooth, unblemished skin where there had once been deep bruises and possibly broken ribs. Simeon must have healed them, though the soreness remained as a stark reminder of how close they had come to losing everything.

Swinging their legs over the side of the bed, MC took a moment to steady themselves before standing. Their limbs felt heavy, but they needed to find the others. They needed to know if Luke was okay.

MC walked slowly through the quiet halls, each step bringing back more of the harrowing ordeal. The house was eerily silent, the usual background noise of the brothers' banter and activity absent. As they neared the living room, they heard hushed voices—a conversation already in progress.

When they reached the doorway, MC saw everyone gathered together. Some were seated while the others were scattered about the room. Luke stood in the center, tears still glistening on his cheeks as he recounted what had happened before and after they had been dragged to the forest. The others listened intently, their expressions ranging from confusion to concern.

Solomon stood nearby, leaning casually against the wall with a sly smile on his face, eyes glinting with a knowing look as the others pressed him for answers.

"How could they have fought off those demons on their own?" Lucifer asked, his brow furrowed in frustration.

"I thought humans were supposed to be fragile," Levi added, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"MC didn't use any spells," Asmo chimed in, looking equally puzzled. "They didn't use our pacts either. So how did they manage to beat up those demons as badly as they did?"

Solomon only smiled more broadly. "That's something you'll have to ask them yourself."

At that moment, MC stepped fully into the room, drawing all eyes to them. Luke was the first to react, his blue eyes widening as he rushed forward and threw his arms around MC, hugging them tightly. “MC! You’re okay!” he cried, his small frame shaking with relief. “Thank you, thank you so much for protecting me…”

Before MC could respond, Simeon moved next, enveloping both MC and Luke in a gentle but firm embrace. “You did something truly brave, MC,” he said softly, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for keeping Luke safe.”

As they finally released MC, Simeon guided them over to the couch, where Mammon and Beel quickly made space between them. MC was barely seated before Belphie climbed onto their lap, his legs draping over Beel’s, while he latched his arms around MC’s torso, burying his face into their stomach.

Mammon's arm came to rest protectively across MC's shoulders, his worry evident in his tight grip. "You had us all scared, ya know," he muttered, though his tone was more gentle than usual.

Beel nodded solemnly, his eyes not leaving MC aa his hand came to rest on Belphies back, an open invitation for MC to hold it. "You shouldn't have had to go through that alone."

"Don't scare us like that again," Belphie grumbled, his voice muffled. "Next time, just summon one of us, okay?"

MC managed a small smile, one hand grabbing Mammon's and the other grabbing Beel's as they looked around at the others. The warmth of their friends’ presence was comforting, and for a moment, they just soaked it in.

But then, the questions started.

Diavolo, who had been standing by the fireplace, finally spoke, his voice filled with both curiosity and concern. "MC, we've heard what happened, but what we don't understand is how you managed to fend off those demons on your own. It's... remarkable."

Lucifer crossed his arms, his gaze sharp but worried. "Indeed. You've shown strength that we didn't expect, even knowing you've grown since coming here."

Barbatos, standing next Diavolo, nodded thoughtfully. "It's almost as if your strength increased dramatically in the heat of the moment. How is that possible?"

MC took a deep breath, gathering their thoughts. "It was the adrenaline," they began. "In situations of extreme stress or danger, the human brain releases a hormone called epinephrine or more commonly known as adrenaline. It makes you stronger, faster, and more focused. It's a survival mechanism."

Solomon, who had been silently observing, offered a knowing smile. "Humans are fascinating in their resilience. Adrenaline can push the body to its limits, allowing them to achieve feats they wouldn't normally be capable of. I've seen it many times in my long life."

“Yeah. There are stories of humans lifting cars to save someone trapped underneath, or running for miles without stopping when they’re in danger, or even fighting off animals like bears or tigers," MC added. "Adrenaline can even be used in medicine to restart someone’s heart if it stops beating.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone processed this information. Asmo looked genuinely impressed, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. “I had no idea humans could be so… fierce,” he admitted.

Levi looked both awed and slightly unnerved. "So, you're saying it's like a temporary power-up? But it's something humans can do naturally?"

MC nodded. "Yes, but it's also dangerous. The effects of adrenaline can wear off quickly, and you're left exhausted, sometimes even in shock, and any pain you have will hit hard. That's why I passed out shortly after you all arrived."

Satan, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his eyes intense. "So, this ‘adrenaline’—it’s something that can be triggered in any human under the right circumstances?"

MC nodded. "Yes. It’s not something we can control easily. It’s just... there, when we need it."

Beel frowned slightly, his protective nature shining through. "But it’s dangerous, right? If you push too hard…"

MC gave a small, tired smile. "Yes. It can be. But in that moment, it was one of the things that kept me going."

Belphie tightened his hold on them, his voice low. "I don’t like the idea of you having to rely on something so dangerous. We’re supposed to protect you."

Lucifer spoke once more. “You’ve explained the physical aspects of adrenaline, but what drove you to fight so fiercely? What was going through your mind?”

MC took a deep breath, their gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before they met Lucifer’s eyes. “Fear was definitely there, but it was overshadowed by my need to protect Luke and to survive, not just for myself, but for all of you.”

Mammon's brow furrowed. "For us?"

MC nodded. “All I could think about was everything we’ve been through together, everything we’ve done, and everything we’ve yet to do. I refused to die there. I refused to let those demons take away everything I’ve fought so hard for.”

Asmo placed a gentle hand on MC’s arm, his usual flamboyance muted. “You were protecting us…even when you were the one in danger?”

MC smiled softly. “It wasn’t just about me. It was about all of us. I felt the adrenaline kick in, and it made my heart race, my mind sharpen…but there was something else, too. I felt all of our pacts. I felt all of you with me.”

Simeon, who had been listening quietly, spoke up. “You felt your pacts? But you didn't use any magic?”

MC shook their head. “No, no magic came from them. It was just…a reminder. A reminder that I had people waiting for me. People who would be hurt if I didn’t make it back. That’s what pushed me to keep fighting.”

Levi looked away, his voice tinged with guilt. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone…”

MC turned to him, their expression earnest. “I wasn’t alone. I had all of you with me in spirit.”

Beel smiled softly. “You fought for us. Even though you were hurt and scared, you fought because you didn’t want us to lose you.”

MC nodded again. “Exactly. I fought because I had things I wanted to protect. The thought of all of you, of everything we’ve done together, gave me strength. The adrenaline pumped my heart harder, but it was the memories of all of you that kept me standing.”

Solomon spoke last. “The human spirit is something remarkable, isn’t it? Even in the face of overwhelming danger, it finds a way to endure, to protect what matters most.”

As the Avatar of Pride and the eldest of the brothers, Lucifer has witnessed countless battles and conquests, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom. He’s seen power in all its forms—brute strength, cunning intelligence, and magical prowess. Yet, MC’s resilience is something altogether different, something that challenges his understanding of power. They have stood against him, faced dangers that would crush most beings, and survived trials that even the strongest demons would falter under. “Humans are fragile, or so I believed. But this one and possibly others… They defy that fragility with every breath. It’s not just physical strength or magical ability—it’s their spirit. They have something that even I, in all my pride, cannot fully grasp. A will to survive that seems almost reckless, yet undeniably admirable.”

"The human will is a force beyond comprehension," Lucifer mused, his expression thoughtful. "Humanities tenacity in the face of danger is something even a demon can admire." He felt a mix of pride and concern—pride in MC’s strength, but concern for what such strength might mean in the future. Their unyielding spirit was an asset, but also a reminder of the unpredictable nature of humans.

Mammon’s feelings for MC are complicated, filled with a mix of protective instincts and admiration he struggles to express. He’s seen them face down enemies that should have easily overpowered them, yet they keep getting back up. He knows what it’s like to fight for survival, to be driven by the fear of loss, but MC’s tenacity is something he both admires and fears for. “They ain't just any human. They’ve been through so much—stuff that would make most people give up. But not them. They fight like they’ve got nothin’ to lose, but I know it’s ‘cause they’ve got everything to lose. They’re strong, yeah, but I can’t help but worry. What if one day they push too hard and…” Mammon shakes his head, unable to finish the thought, the idea of losing them more painful than he’d ever admit.

"How could I have let them face that alone?" he berated himself, but beneath the guilt was a deep-seated respect. "They fought like a demon…no, even fiercer. They fought like a human."

Leviathan has always struggled with self-esteem, envying others for their strengths and abilities. But MC’s courage is something he finds himself in awe of, even as it stirs a familiar jealousy. They don’t back down, even when they’re scared, and that’s something Levi can’t help but admire. “I’ve always thought I was weak, that I couldn’t stand up to anything. But they… they face things that terrify me, and they don’t even flinch. It’s like they have this hidden power, not magic or strength, but something deeper. I wish I could be that brave, to stand up and fight even when everything seems lost.... I always thought humans were weak," Leviathan admitted to himself. "But this human, my Henry… they’re like a protagonist in one of my games and animes, standing up against impossible odds."

As the Avatar of Wrath, Satan understands the drive to fight, the need to stand against what angers and threatens you. Yet, MC’s resilience goes beyond anger—it’s a calm, unwavering determination that he finds perplexing and admirable. He’s watched them endure pain, betrayal, and even death, yet they continue to stand, to fight, to protect those they care about. “I’ve always believed that wrath is what fuels survival, that it’s anger that keeps you going when nothing else can. But they’ve shown me something different. It’s not rage that drives them, but a resolve that’s deeper, more unyielding. Human strength doesn’t come from wrath, but from something else, something I’m still trying to understand."

His final realization is this: "It’s a dangerous thing to corner a human who has something to protect. They will fight beyond their means."

Asmo’s world revolves around beauty, pleasure, and love. He sees beauty in everything, but in MC, he sees something different—an inner strength that shines even in the darkest of times. Their resilience, their refusal to give up, is a kind of beauty he’s never encountered before. “Humans are usually so breakable, so easily swayed by their emotions, but not them. They’ve faced so much darkness, yet they shine brighter for it. There’s a beauty in humanities strength, in the way they keep going, keep fighting. It’s… captivating, really. They’ve shown me that beauty isn’t just in looks or charm, but in the strength to endure.”

Beel is driven by loyalty and a deep sense of family. He’s seen MC put themselves in harm’s way to protect others, something that resonates deeply with his own values. He admires humanities courage, their willingness to sacrifice for those they care about, even when it means facing dangers far beyond their capabilities. “They’re always thinking of others, always putting themselves last. It’s something I understand, something I respect. Humans endure so much, but they never stop fighting, never stop protecting. It makes me want to be stronger, to be there for my family like MC's been there for us.”

Belphie’s relationship with MC is the most complex, haunted by guilt and remorse for what he did to them. He once saw them as weak, a mere human not worth his time. But now, after seeing their resilience firsthand, his view has shifted dramatically. “I tried to break them, to make them give up, but they came back stronger. I used to think humans were weak, that they couldn’t stand up to us. But they’ve proven me wrong, time and time again. They’ve survived things that should have destroyed them, things that would have destroyed me. Now, I can’t help but feel… respect. And maybe a little fear, too.”

Diavolo’s fascination with the human world is well-known, but MC has shown him something even he didn’t expect. Their resilience, their will to survive and protect, has become a testament to the potential he sees in humanity. “Humans are full of surprises. They endure, they adapt, they fight even when all seems lost. It’s that spirit, that unyielding will, that makes them so interesting, that sets them apart, that makes them so valuable to our world. MC has shown us all that humanity has a strength all its own, a strength that’s not just about power, but about their will. It’s a reminder of why this exchange program is so important, why I believe in the potential for our worlds to learn from each other. The human spirit, when allied with demons and angels, could create something truly formidable.”

Barbatos is ever the observer, always watching, always analyzing. He’s seen MC’s journey from the beginning, and their resilience has only confirmed his belief in the importance of Diavolo’s vision. “Humans are more than they seem. MC’s journey has shown us all that their strength lies not in power or magic, but in their will. It’s a strength that defies logic, that challenges the way we see the world. Their resilience is a testament to the potential, a potential that we must not underestimate.”

Simeon has always believed in the potential of all beings, in the power of love, faith, and the human spirit. MC embodies these beliefs in a way that resonates deeply with him. “Humans face so much darkness, yet they refuse to be consumed by it. Their spirit is unyielding. It’s a reminder of the strength that lies within all of us, a strength that comes not from power or magic, but from the heart.”

Luke looks up to MC as a protector, someone who embodies everything he admires about humanity. He’s seen their strength, their courage, and it fills him with a mix of awe and worry. “I’ve always admired them, but now... I realize just how strong they really are. They’re not just a human, they’re my hero. I want to be strong like them, to protect the ones I love like they’ve protected me.”

The young angel realized that a human's actions weren't just about survival—they were about love, loyalty, and an unwavering determination to keep their loved ones safe. It was a lesson in courage that Luke would carry with him forever.

Solomon, with his vast experience and knowledge, sees MC’s actions as a reflection of humanity’s greatest strength. He knows better than anyone the potential within them, and he’s proud to see it realized. “Humans have always been underestimated, but that’s their greatest advantage. In the face of danger, they find strength even they didn’t know they had. MC is a perfect example of Humanities indomitable will. It’s a power that defies nature. And it’s something that, as long as it exists, makes humanity a force to be reckoned with.”

Bonus:

After the story of MC's encounter in the forest spread at RAD, the reactions from the demons became mixed.

Some demons became wary of MC, keeping their distance as they realized that the seemingly "fragile" human was capable of holding their own, even without magic. They whispered about the event, exchanging nervous glances when MC walked by. The idea that a human could take down multiple demons in a fight unnerved them, making them more cautious.

However, not all demons were deterred. A few, intrigued by the tale and eager to test their strength, began trying to pick fights with MC. They saw the story as a challenge, wanting to see for themselves how this "little human" had managed to overpower their kind. These demons would approach MC with sly grins, making snide comments or outright challenging them to duels, eager to provoke a reaction.

Despite this, MC's reputation at RAD began to shift. Some demons now looked at them with a newfound respect, acknowledging their strength and tenacity. Others kept their distance, not wanting to be on the receiving end of that same strength. But whether it was out of fear, respect, or curiosity, one thing was clear: MC was no longer seen as just a human. They had proven that humans were more than capable of surviving in the Devildom, and that alone was enough to make everyone at RAD take notice.

[ollyissleppy]

𝐖𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 = 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲

summary: you and your boyfriend shed blood, sweat and tears in order to have perfectly wrapped christmas gifts. a/n: rafayel cries when really angry (i'm projecting) also you would think that last week of uni before christmas break would be all vibes but no instead you have to fight to survive (he says, as he wrote it during lecture) (I couldn't care less anymore tbh) (the professor literally was poorly reading from a presentation) (like dude you could sent it to us and we all could go home) cw: none

series masterlist

has no clue what is happening, is here for the vibes

"… and then you're done!" The person in the tutorial shows their perfectly wrapped gift. You look down at you, and while it's looking a little funky, it still looks similar to what was shown on the tutorial.

"That was pretty easy, right Xavier?" You look at you boyfriend, smiling. Then, you look down at how his gift looks like and you couldn't help but laugh.

His gift was a mess. The only thing it had the same as the tutorial is the fact that wrapping paper was used.

"Why didn't you say you're struggling? I could help you or we could watch the tutorial again" you look at Xavier, trying to figure out what he's thinking.

"I had fun, there was no point in stopping" the replies, smiling at you. Your heart squeezes at the sight of Xavier and his pure innocence.

good at wrapping, but gets mad easily

The wrapping on your part was going rather smoothly, the gifts you were tasked with wrapping were rather easy with them being simple boxes, since Rafayel decided to do the more complicated ones as the 'master wrapper' he claims to be. You were about to grab another one, signing along to the song that's playing in the background, when you heard Rafayel mumbling swear words under his breath.

"You ok over there?" You ask, looking over at your boyfriend.

"Yeah" he's not and you know that. His voice was shaking and his face was twisted in anger. You looked down at his hands to check what was making him feel that way. He was struggling with wrapping a particularly weird-shaped object.

"Raf, it's impossible to wrap to let's just throw in in a bag or something hm?" You put a hand on his shoulder and rub it in comforting manner.

"Yeah your right" Rafayel looks up to blink away the tears that were trying to spill from his eyes. You grab a bag,one of the few you bought just in case and let your boyfriend put the object in it.

avoids it, would rather pay/force someone else to do it for him

You hear Sylus sigh for like the fifth time in the last hour. It got to the point that you regret wanting to do it with him in the first place.

"Less sighing, more working, Sylus" you don't have to look up at him to know he's rolled his eyes the moment you said that.

"We wouldn't have to work, if you went with my plan" his voice has a sassy tone to it, his arms crossed

"We're not letting other people wrap gifts for OUR friends and family" you stand your ground and another sigh leaves your boyfriend's lips.

Then, out of nowhere, Sylus is right next to you, wrapping his strong arms around you from the back. He starts leaving soft kisses along your neck, hoping it would pull you away from work.

"It's not gonna work, Sylus. Get back to wrapping" you push him away from you.

"Worth a shot" he shrugs.

god-like wrapping skills AND super patient with your lack of skills

You watch Zayne skillfully wrap each and every gift with ease, his face in full focus that you usually see him have when he's doing patients paperwork.

"You know, if you actually did something else other than staring at me, we would be done by now" Zayne doesn't even look up from the gifts he's currently working on.

"How can I focus, when I have my boyfriend looking all hot while wrapping gifts" you lean against the table, smirking at him. "Besides, I have no clue how to wrap that thing"

"I'll show you" and boy he does. After finishing up with the gift he was working on, he comes closer to you. The two of you are so close, you can feel his warmth.

Zayne shows you all the tricks he knows when it comes to wrapping weirdly shaped objects. Even when you mess up something, he's there to help either guiding your hands or taking over and fixing it.

taglist: @leighsartworks216 @faeryminnyx @iloveboysinred @sstar-ggirl @bellagrayson-wayne

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[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

May I build myself a home here? (may I please call you mine?)

you will know me, though I have no name - series masterlist here

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x reader x kozume kenma

length: 1.5k

genre: pure fluff

warnings: this is just like,,, typical workday morning with kuroken, very domestic, deals with trying to grow up and find your footing in the world, trying to make something of yourself blah blah blah the usual, background kagehina bc I can't help it

a/n: no one in the world cares abt this except for me but it's ok we'll deal with it

It's Kenma sliding into bed next to you that wakes you finally, his movements slow and tired as he pulls the covers up to his shoulder. He grumbles when you sit up, the hands that had been reaching for you falling back onto the mattress with a dull thump.

"Sorry, baby," you say quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I gotta get ready for work." He mumbles something unintelligible and his fingers twist into the material of your sleep shirt, pulling you closer. You let him, for just a moment, before carefully prying him off of you, giving each of his fingers a kiss as you pull them away from your shirt, leaving him in bed in favour of standing and stretching.

In the kitchen, Tetsurou is already mostly dressed, dress shirt buttoned and tie hanging loosely over his shoulders. He switches the kettle on when he sees you come in, reaching to take your coffee mug down from the cupboard for you. It hasn't been long since the three of you moved in together, but Tetsurou's always been good at this - at making himself into a home for the people around him. 

"Good morning," you murmur as you walk up to him, leaning forward to let your forehead thump against his back and your arms wrap around him as he checks his phone. He turns in your hold to face you and pulls you closer, a kiss from him finding the crown of your head. 

"Did you see the news?" He asks gently. You groan and reach blindingly for his phone, but he's already reading you the headline. It's something that sounds a little too much like click-bait, a story about how pro volleyball players Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio were spotted in some kind of compromising position in a public restaurant. 

"Compromising position," you repeat, pulling away from Tetsurou to look for your own phone. "What, were they holding hands?" He laughs, a scratchy sort of thing that makes you smile.

"Something like that, I'm sure," he agrees, sliding a hand onto your lower back and pressing a kiss to your cheek as he hands you your phone from the counter. 

"Well, I'm sure you'll be dealing with it, too," you say, opening the article on your own phone just to frown at it. "This isn't exactly good PR."

Tetsurou smiles gently at your words, rolling his shoulders as if that will help the stiffness in them - as if this will be the day the ever-pressing weight is lifted from them. It's never really surprising to the two of you - the fact that people care so much more about the drama of these players than the sport they've given their lives to. But it does, over time, wear you down, and you know that there are times when Tetsurou feels he's fighting a losing battle. You know, because you feel it, too. 

You open your mouth to say something, to promise that, somehow, you'll fix this, when your phone rings. As Hinata's name shows up, you squeeze Tetsurou's arm gently in acknowledgement and slip past him to take the call, huffing out a laugh as he chases after you for one last kiss.

Tetsurou doesn't need to really hear the other side of the phone call to know what's going on, but he listens nonetheless as he switches the kettle off, Hinata's voice loud and hysterical enough that it echoes through the phone. He's seen the article, of course, and he's going on about how it's not their fault, they didn't really do anything - they were just going out to dinner and would you please do something about it, please, Tobio and I will both give you exclusive interviews -

Tetsurou would laugh if he didn't feel so bad for Hinata, because never mind, apparently, that you were their teammate at Karasuno and they give you exclusive interviews any time you ask. Never mind, of course, that you go to their house for New Year's every year and you undoubtedly believe them and will help them in any way you can. Never mind that this is why you do this job, this is why you chose to be a sports reporter of all things - to drive the conversation to where it ought to be.

You're trying, trying, to get Hinata to stop talking long enough to tell him that you'll write him an article, a good article, when his voice cuts out and there's some scuffling on the other line. You've heard this enough, fortunately, to know the sounds of Kageyama wrestling the phone away from his partner and you wait patiently, leaning into Tetsurou to press a kiss to his cheek as he fixes your morning coffee for you, glancing at his watch as he does.  

Eventually, Kageyama succeeds in ceasing Hinata's babbling and he thanks you in that tight, solemn way of his, asking you if you're coming to cover his game on the weekend. Of course, you are - and you tell him as much. It was never really in doubt, but Kageyama likes to be reminded that he has people on his side, and buying you a coffee before the game is as close as he gets to knowing how to say thank you. You don't mind.

By the time you're off the phone, Tetsurou is gone from the kitchen, and you abandon your phone on the counter to chase after him back to the bedroom - because you're sure that's where he's run off to.

Sure enough, you slip through the door in time to see him there harassing a mostly asleep Kenma, cooing and kissing him while Kenma tries to bury his head further under the covers. With his streaming schedule, he sleeps a lot later than you two, always hiding away in the quiet of the mornings. But there's nothing that could stop Tetsurou from getting his goodbye kiss, and you get your own from him, as well, as you slip into bed next to Kenma for a cuddle before you leave, too. 

"You forgot your coffee," Kenma mumbles, his face pressed against your collarbone.

"How did you know that?" You ask quietly.

"Because you do this every morning." Tetsurou laughs at the way you huff at Kenma's words, leaning over to press a kiss to your head before he moves away from the bed, pulling the blackout curtains further shut so that Kenma can sleep. 

"I'll bring it in to you before I leave," He says before stepping out of the room quietly, leaving you in the silence with Kenma. You jostle him slightly as you shift, earning you another groan from him.

"Did you hear us talking in the kitchen?" You ask softly.

"Shoyo screams so loud I could hear him if I was outside. You should turn your phone volume down when he calls."

"I'll remember to next time," you promise. You both know you'll forget. "Anyway, I'm sure people will ask you about it. Don't comment on it, ok? Not until I get something official out, at least." Kenma lifts his head to frown at you, then, his brows furrowed and hair mussed.

"If people are going to come onto my streams and shit talk my best friend, I have to say something," he points out. You rake a hand through his hair, smoothing out the tangles.

"I know, I know - just, take it easy, ok? I want to let them get their side of things out before gossip spreads anymore." Kenma huffs at your words, letting his head thump back down into your neck as he nods. He's much the same as Tetsurou, you think, in how stubbornly he digs his heels in, how much he's willing to fight this fight. You understand it, of course, this need he has to make it known how good this sport is, how important it is to you all - how important it was to him when it saved him in high school.  

You understand, of course, that this is what the three of you do - you help people, you build the bridge, you pull people onto this stage that was once yours and you fight to keep them up there.

The hand that lowers the net, that's what Hinata had once said about it, not long after you saved him from another particularly harsh gossip article. You'd laughed when he'd said it, feeling that it was a bit much to be so grateful for you doing your job. It's humanity, is what you'd told him. And it's what we're here to do.

As Kenma sighs sleepily against you, burying his head further into your neck and letting his hands tangle into your shirt, as Tetsurou slips quietly back into the room to put your coffee on the nightstand and give you one last kiss before he goes, you can't help but think about it all. You can't help but think that you're doing everything you need to do and being everything you need to be - right here in the quiet safety of your home, in a little piece of the world that you can call your own.