#he's got no feelings. he's fine on his own. he pushes them away because he's afraid of showing weakness but he wants them to care

[pemiski]

tags primary teacher! sae x fem! reader, unnecessarily detailed imagery of sae jumpstarting a car because that’s a very beautiful man I do not apologise

author’s note you thought I was never gonna go back to teacher sae again huh?? I know I said I was going to focus on the long fic but I’m unpredictable like that yeah!

The engine gives one last cough before giving up entirely.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.

It’s been a long day— the kind that stretches you thin in ways only a classroom full of five-year-olds can. You love them, of course you do, but Leah had knocked over one of the potted plants during morning circle, and you’d spent your entire break sprinting to the nearest grocery in hopes of finding a halfway decent replacement.

Then Tommy cried for a solid twenty minutes because Jerry (the class mascot, a laminated cartoon mouse with googly eyes) had gone missing. You’d promised he’d be back by one, and had in consequence spent most of lunch break crawling on the floor, only to discover Jerry had slipped behind the blackboard, wedged in a place your arm physically cannot reach. Tommy had been inconsolable when you told him.

And now, after knowing you still have a stack of marking waiting for you on the kitchen table, you hear the engine turn over, and it’s just one thing too many.

You’ll figure it out, you tell yourself. Or at least, you’ll pretend to. All it takes is a little poking around under the hood until someone who actually knows what they’re doing shows up, if the universe ever feels like throwing you a bone.

“Car troubles?”

You turn your head, slower than you mean to, but he’s already walking over: Sae Itoshi. Again. The newest addition to the history department, too pretty for someone who talks so little. He waves at a kid being picked up at the curb who was calling out one last ‘have a nice week-end!’, and then crouches beside your car like this is routine.

“Car troubles?” he says again, quieter this time. maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time.

You blink at him. Your brain works overtime to find a response that doesn’t sound utterly foolish. Gosh, this is not the bone you were talking about.

“Yeah,” you say, brushing your hair back from your face. “It’s, um… not starting. But it’s fine. I know a guy around here, so—”

You smile too quickly. You don’t know a guy around here. In fact, you don’t know a single mechanic in the entire city. But you’re not about to let him be the one to open the hood and fix it, because, ultimately, you’re not sure what’s worse— the car dying, or the thought of Sae Itoshi seeing you like this.

“I can take a look. Mechanics don’t come cheap these days anyway,” he says, almost offhandedly. “Save you the money.”

You want to say no. You should. You want to tell him that it’s fine, really, that you’ve got it under control. But the truth is— you don’t. Not really. And living on a primary teacher’s wage doesn’t exactly leave room for breakdowns, let alone the cost of calling someone out to fix them.

“Errr,” you start, hesitating, “alright then. At your heart’s content.”

You say it with a smile, trying to diffuse the tension, but then again, maybe it’s just you masking up your own discomfort. Your fingers tighten around the edges of your car as he turns to look at you and gives you a small smile in return. The kind that makes your chest twist a little too tightly.

He pops the hood like it’s second nature, leans forward, and peers inside. There’s a quiet sort of concentration on his face, and the contracting muscles under his shirt make it impossibly hard to look away.

And then, something shifts, and his brows pull just slightly together.

“When’s the last time you had your car looked at?”

You blink, unsure how to answer. “I don’t… remember? It’s been a while.”

Sae glances at you over his shoulder, eyebrows raising just slightly. “You know you’re supposed to get it checked every year, right? For MOT?”

Right. The MOT. The mandatory inspection you’ve conveniently pushed to the very back of your mind, somewhere between laundry day and booking a dentist appointment.

“Technically, yes,” you mumble. “Practically, I might’ve forgotten.”

He huffs a soft breath, something between amusement and disbelief, and turns back to the engine. Your heart is still tapping nervously against your ribs, and his slight snicker does nothing to quell said tapping.

You’re standing off to the side, arms crossed loosely over your chest. It’s cooler out than it was earlier, but the sun is still bright and gleams down at your car.

Sae doesn’t say much while he works— not that you expect him to, anyway— and stands with his weight leaned into the open hood, one hand braced against the frame, the other reaching down to fiddle with something you don’t recognize. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, forearms flexing every time he moves.

You try not to stare. You do. But it’s hard not to notice the way his jaw tenses when he leans forward, or the way his shirt lifts slightly when he shifts to one side. He’s always been a little unreadable, but right now, he feels almost close. Like someone you could touch if you weren’t so afraid of what that might do to you.

Eventually, he steps back, letting the hood fall shut with a soft clunk. He turns to you, brushing his hands on his jeans.

“Should be alright for now,” he says, tone as neutral as ever. “But don’t forget to check it out.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The car,” he repeats. A beat passes, and then, slightly softer, “Don’t forget to have it checked out.”

Oh. Right.

The car.

@pemiski 2025 - all rights reserved. I do not authorize any reposting translating or modifying of my content on any platform

[winisayswhat]

Reality check from Kalabhairav dev : Supreme lord of time [PAC] Don't Ignore !

Alot of messages in it were wht to do like cut the ties but how to do it? I m curious to know ur opinion becoz for someone who thinks they r moving on and they got things figured out and controlled how can they know wht and how to do

You have a good question , I was confused for a while , but I guess this is what you meant " How do I know I have healed 100% , is it superficial level or deep level , how to figure that out "

Who is Kalabhairav/Kalabhairava/Kalabhairav dev /Kalabhairaveshwara ?

He isn’t soft, forgiving, or gentle. He is the guardian of time, the cut-off point, and the force that destroys lies, illusions, and attachments. If Shiva is quiet like still water, Kalabhairav is the storm that clears everything fake. He doesn’t guide softly , he rips the truth out, even if it hurts.

🔱 WHO IS KALABHAIRAV?

Name meaning: "Kala" = Time or Death "Bhairava" = One who is terrifying or beyond fear So, Kalabhairav = The terrifying one who controls time.

Appearance: Fierce. Dark. Usually shown in black or red. Carries a trident, drum, skull, and is often seen with a dog , a symbol of loyalty, protection, and raw truth.

What he does:

Destroys ego and fake identities !

Cuts attachments you’ve outgrown.

Keeps you aligned with truth , no matter how hard it is.

Controls time , delays, divine timing, karma.

Gives clarity through chaos.

WHY DO PEOPLE FEAR HIM?

Because he doesn’t lie to you. He shows you yourself, the part you hide, the pain you pretend you’ve moved past, the games you play to avoid change. He’s not here to comfort , he’s here to wake you up.

He’ll strip away everything that’s fake.

He’ll force you to meet the version of you that keeps repeating the same patterns.

He’ll push you to let go of who and what doesn’t belong anymore

He protects outsiders, wanderers, misfits , people who walk their own path

He stands between your past and your future ,making sure you don’t carry the old crap into the next chapter

WHAT DOES HIS ENERGY FEEL LIKE?

Ruthless, but fair.

Heavy, but freeing.

Painful, but honest.

Sharp, but clean.

You don’t call on him for peace. You call on him when you’re done lying to yourself and ready to cut the rope.

He won’t punish you. He’ll just show you exactly where you’re stuck ,and wait to see if you’ll finally move or keep pretending.

WHEN SHOULD YOU TURN TO HIM?

When you’re trapped in toxic loops..

When you know it’s time to let go but can’t.

When you’re being lied to ,or lying to yourself.

When you want truth, not comfort.

When you need the strength to break free , even from people you love.

FINAL TRUTH

If Shiva clears the path, Kalabhairav burns the leftovers. He doesn’t do half-jobs.

He won’t coddle you. He’ll shake your whole life until only what’s real stays standing. And that’s when healing starts ,for real.

When it comes to how he came into existence , and story , i'll keep it for later.

Your answer

"Cut the tie" sounds simple, but when you're the one in it, it's not always clear how to do that , or if you even need to.The fact that this question popped in your mind is a signal that you haven't let go yet !

From a Kalabhairav dev lens ' the one who rules over truth and time ', cutting a tie doesn’t just mean staying away from someone. It means pulling out the roots. It means their thoughts don’t take space in your head. Their choices don’t echo in yours. You don’t shape your future trying to either forget or prove something to them.

So, what if someone thinks they’ve moved on?

Ask yourself,

Do you still flinch a little when you hear their name?

Do you still replay the past when you're alone?

Do you still get quiet when someone brings them up?

Do you try to prove to the world (or to them) that you're fine?

If yes ,even a little , you’re not fully out. You’re just surviving it better.

Now, how do you really cut it?

Mentally When they pop into your head, don’t go down that road. Don’t argue with the memory. Just stop and shift. Be strict with your mind it doesn’t need to keep visiting them.

Emotionally Feel the sadness. The loss. The part of you that still hoped. Let it burn. You can’t move forward by pretending it didn’t matter!

Physically Take out the triggers. Delete, unfollow, block if needed. Stop checking. Stop holding onto proof that “you were right” or “they were wrong.” That proof is a leash.

Say it out loud or write it,

“I cut the tie. You no longer get to live in my head or heart. I take my energy back.”

Say it every day if you have to ,until the cord doesn't pull anymore.

From what my experience Kalabhairav dev doesn’t test you for fun ,but life will bring that person, habit, or old pattern back around at some point. Not as a punishment. Not even as a lesson. Just so you can see if you’ve actually healed , or if you were just pretending to be fine.

And when that wildcard shows up again , through a message, a memory, or a familiar situation , your reaction in that moment says everything. That’s your report card. Not for the world. For you.

Also while praying to him

Ask him to guide you .

Tell him you're ready to taek in any lesson that he has to offer.

Ask him to just be with you and bless you .

Tell him that you're okay with any decision he makes for you !

How to worship ?

I am not a saint , or a sadhu to know everything ! So don't expect that level of knowledge

Everyday chant Kalabhairava stotram by Sri Shankaracharya

Don't harm dogs , it's vahan of Kalabhairav dev . Offer them food and shelter . Atleast show some love and affection .

He won't be impressed by huge donations or show-off of wealth , be grounded , do tyag of anything and everything that is binding you to maya and surrender ![Jewellery, phone,thatone costly bag you carry everywhere ]

I personally think people who follow LAW OF DETACHMENT will connect and understand him well , same with Shani dev

Thank you !

[dennisboobs]

to be completely honest, I don't want macdennis in this finale at all. i want den's plot to stay his own. i want the gang to understand just how much they rely on dennis, and how the pressure is finally wearing him down. dennis' inability to escape these high expectations from all of them. of the responsibility that he hates so much. this has been a part of his plotlines for years, and now he can't even take a day trip to the beach without the gang calling him for dumb shit. he's expected to be there to help the gang whenever they need him, but will they be there to help him?

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Restraint | Bucky Barnes x Reader | Oneshot 1.6k

You rush to Bucky's side when he's hit with a a super serum booster out in the field so that you can...take care...of him.

Warnings: 18+ smut, if you're looking for an medical ethics this isn't it, p in v, oral (m recieving), unprotected sex, orgasm denial, dirty talk. Topping from the bottom a bit? Bucky is restrained/slightly subby Bucky if you squint, but also dominant Bucky. Bucky is horny, reader can't help herself and they're both crazy possessive.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Where is he?”

“Who?” Sam asked, his warning look at Joaquin came too late. 

“Tell me!” You turned on the younger man, “where the fuck have you put him?” 

“He's -”

“No, it's for her own safety,” Sam pulled Joaquin away, trying to dodge around you. 

“Where's Bucky? Tell me - please.” You were desperate, running through the hanger as soon as you heard he'd been hit, you needed to see him- now, needed to know he was okay. 

“I really don't think-”

“Sam I'm going to find him, I don't care if I have to search every inch of this airfield I'll find him. So you might as well just tell me and get it over with.” 

“Fine, but you've gotta leave him to it, he needs to recover and we don't know -”

“Sam!” 

“Upstairs, room 205.” 

You could hear him before you could see him, the sound of metal on metal unmistakable, and then the door to room 205 slammed shut behind a fleeing doctor and his cry of anger was released into the corridor. 

“Bucky?” You pushed the door open again, peering inside. 

“Don't, baby, just go and I'll come to you when -” he cut himself off, thrashing side to side. 

205 was somewhere between an officer's quarters and a hospital room, it was furnished like a bedroom, but away from the mess hall and regular sleeping areas downstairs. You'd expected to see Bucky hooked up to machines, maybe an IV drip, at least a monitor. 

But Bucky was handcuffed to the bed. The vibranium cuffs attached at each corner, spreading his body across the sheets. He’d shed his shirt and leather jacket, but his tactical pants still stretched over his thick thighs, his boots kicking out despite the restraints around his ankles. 

“Bucky, what happened?” 

“Doll, please -” he grit his teeth, jaw ticking, and set his head back on the pillows, “I don't want you to see me like this, go home, I'll come back.”

‘Like this’ was sweating and writhing, veins bulging in his already flexed muscles, sweat forming on his brow. 

“I can't leave you, what happened?” 

“Hit,” he tugged at his bonds again and you noticed red welts forming on his right wrist, "serum booster something, they were trying to - ugh -” he arched up, a vein in his neck pulsing, “enhance, but I - hit. We don't know - ugh - what it will do to me.”

Despite his otherwise out of control appearance, Bucky's blue eyes were clear and pleading. This was painful, you were sure, made worse by his movement in the cuffs. 

“You need to calm down, baby, stop moving.”

“Can't,” he tugged again, rattling the cuffs. 

“Let me help,” you stepped forwarding, shedding the big coat you'd pulled on when you left the house in a hurry. Your nipples pebbled under the flimsy nightdress you'd been wearing when you got the call. Bucky took a deep inhale at the sight. 

“No, no, no - I'm here because I could - fuck, baby, I could hurt someone. I don't wanna hurt you, go - fucking hell you look so damn delicious - go home!” 

But you ignored him. Instead you knelt on the end of the bed and unlaced his tactical boots, sliding them slowly off and setting them to the floor. Bucky kept his eyes squeezed shut. 

It did feel better to have them off though, and he rolled his ankles in relief, despite the cuffs. 

“Better, baby?” Your hand was on his leg and he managed to get out a quick nod before your hand moved higher, higher. He thrashed. 

“Seriously, you have to stop, what if I -” 

“You won't hurt me, you're a good man, Bucky. And look at you.” 

Your hand left his leg, the bed moved and he cracked his eyes open in time to see you settle in his lap. He bucked up, involuntarily he was sure, and revealed in your giggle as you grabbed his tac belt for stability. 

“Hmm, later, Bucky baby. Let me take care of you first.”

Your hands were back, sliding up his chest. He'd put on weight, since moving in with you, coming home to a hot dinner every night, desserts on the weekend, treats on dates. You liked seeing him well and happy. Beneath your hands the feel of his abs was still there, an undeniable strength, but he was so soft too and you loved that about him. The softness that he only shared with you, that he had gained through your love and care.

“Doll-” his warnings were beginning to sound whiny, pleading, and you could feel his familiar hardness growing beneath you now. 

“Just let me look after you,” you repeated, though you weren't sure if this was for him or you.

Your hands grazed higher, over his pecs, brushing your thumbs against his nipples, and up to his tense shoulders. It would hurt, you knew, to have his arms pulled like that. Especially his left, where the vibranium met skin and muscle. You'd massaged that spot enough times to know exactly where to dig your thumbs to make him say - 

“Fuck - I can't -" the cuffs rattled again, his hips driving upwards and knocking you off balance, leaving you in one of your favourite places, sprawled over his chest. He was thick beneath you, spreading your thighs wide, his cock straining against his zipper and pressing up between your legs.

“Bucky - let me take some of that pressure off, I love you so much - I” 

He tipped his head, catching your lips in a bruising kiss. Your hands clutched at his hair, turning his head to the perfect angle, lips parted you kissed him back fiercly in a whirlwind of his desperation and your need.

“We shouldn't - the doctor said -” 

Your hands were gone again, leaving his hair mussed on the pillow. 

“You're mine, Bucky, I won't have anyone else telling us how I take care of you.” 

The zip on his pants was close to splitting and so was Bucky's sanity, back arched from the bed, teeth bared. Slowly you popped the button and lowered the zip, allowing the hard length of his cock to spring free.

Like the rest of him, Bucky's cock was beautiful, thick and ready, the vein running up the side pulsed beneath your palm, precum beading at his red tip. He looked delicious.

“Do something,” Bucky's hips pumped again and again, thrusting up into your grip. You let go and he growled, low and throaty, body straining against his bonds. “Get your hands back on my dick right now.” 

You shivered, lust coursing through your body like fire. "I thought you told me to leave? Besides, wouldn’t you rather have something else?” You teased, leaning forward and licking a long stripe from his base to his weeping tip, gathering his pre-cum on your tongue and groaning lewdly in satisfaction. 

“Fuck!” He tugged again and the bed groaned. “Do that again.” Instinctively, you lent forwards and wrapped your lips around his head, sucking slowly and dipping your tongue into his slit. It was Bucky’s turn to groan now, head tipped back. 

He was thrusting up, trying to get himself as deep into your mouth as possible and - fuck - you loved him like this. Raw and wild and passionate. You had to have him, the need was so strong you could feel your heartbeat between your legs, arousal making your thighs slide together when you moved to sit up. 

“No, no, no, doll, please, what are you doing?” He pleaded, eyes wide in understanding when you climbed up to sit in his lap. 

Bucky’s cock lay hard against his soft stomach, your lips perfectly molded around it to push the tip against your clit when you rocked back and forth. It was delicious, this temptation, the tease. But Bucky was beyond teasing. He needed to be inside of you now.

With one last pull he broke free of the restraints. His hands, vibranium cuffs still hanging from his wrists, went straight to your waist, lifting you enough to impale you on his cock. 

He was so ready, throbbing inside of you, and the sensation of being empty and then so wonderfully full had you clenching around him immediately, teetering on the edge of an orgasm you weren't prepared for.

“No, no, Doll, this was your idea so you can fucking wait for me.” 

You wailed but clenched down, willing yourself to hold on for now.

Bucky set a bruising rhythm, holding you still as he thrust up into you, using your body to chase his own pleasure.

“Bucky I'm gonna -”

“No you're fucking not, you're gonna hold it like a good girl and cum when I say.” His voice was low, gravelly from shouting.

God. You needed it. It was like an electric shock, the power looking for an escape and ricocheting around your body until every muscle felt sore from holding back. 

“I can't, Bucky, I've got to-” you sobbed, tears welling in your eyes from the effort. 

“Cum,” he grunted, holding you down and grinding you onto his cock while your body went tight, light exploding behind your eyes, “look at me.” 

You opened your eyes and met his, dark with lust, and you twitched again, milking him as he filled you in three harsh pumps.

“Fuck,” he dropped his hands to the bed and you rolled off him. 

“Well, at least you didn't get sick from the serum, right?” You flopped back onto the bed. 

Bucky rolled into his side, looking down at you with a grin on his face, hand pumping his already hard dick again. 

“No ill effects, anyway.” He laughed, before sliding back between your legs. 

[yuzujjn]

` ꣑꣒‎ ONE WIN, ONE DATE : 심재윤 ─── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

ʬʬ. football player!jake x cheerleader!reader 𖥔 ݁ ARCHiVE 7OO wordcount fluff . . . skinship, kisses ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ happy bday to jakey, && for my juni bby

YOU'RE STANDING ON THE SIDELINES, pom-poms in hand, watching jake tear through the field like he owns it. he’s got this intensity in his eyes, the kind that makes your pulse pick up because you know he’s giving it his all—just to win this game. all for one reason: he bet you that if he wins, he gets to ask you out.

it’s been a fun, flirty thing between you two for weeks now, but this? this is new. he made sure the whole team knew about his little bet, which has them teasing him endlessly about finally "making a move on his dream girl." you catch a few of his teammates smirking and nudging him before the game starts, and jake just rolls his eyes with a lopsided grin, eyes glancing at you every now and then. you swear you can feel his gaze even from across the field.

the game is close, way too close for your liking. you’re on edge, practically jumping each time he gets the ball, and maybe you’re clapping a little louder than anyone else (not that you liked him, or maybe you did). in the final minutes, it’s tied, and jake’s team has the ball. you watch as he gets the ball, weaving through the opposing team with an ease.

the crowd holds its breath, and so do you.

with a swift, clean kick, jake scores, sealing the win. the stadium erupts, but jake’s eyes find you instantly, a smug, triumphant smile on his face as he’s mobbed by his teammates. when they finally let him go, he sprints over to you, his eyes lighting up with joy.

“so…” he starts, leaning over, hands on his knees, slightly out of breath but still managing to look cocky. “still gonna pretend you’re not into me?”

you roll your eyes, though your cheeks are definitely giving you away. “who said i was ever into you?”

“i could tell.” jake flashes that heart-melting smile, moving closer. you’re aware of the other cheerleaders watching, and you’re definitely aware of his hand grazing your waist, lingering just long enough to make your heart race.

“oh, yeah? you’re that confident?” you ask, trying to sound unaffected, but your voice betrays you.

“confident enough to win a game for you,” he says with a smirk. “and i did say i’d ask you out if i won.”

“so ask away, sim,” you challenge, folding your arms.

he lets out a chuckle, his fingers brushing yours as if testing the waters. “okay, let me ask properly, then.” jake clears his throat dramatically, taking your hand in his. “y/n, would you do me the honor of going out with me?”

you’re pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach are doing somersaults, but you manage to keep your cool—sort of. “hmm… maybe. depends. what kind of date are we talking about?”

jake grins, squeezing your hand gently. “whatever you want. something fun. something that’ll make you smile like that.” he nods at you, obviously noticing the way your lips are curving, despite your attempt to stay composed.

“fine,” you say, relenting with a playful eye roll. “but only because you tried so hard.”

he leans in, closer than before, his voice just above a whisper. “only the best for you.”

your heart skips, and you glance down, trying to hide the way his words affect you. but jake isn’t done; he tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze. "guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“guess so,” you whisper, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you realize he’s not moving back. his hand is still at your waist, his thumb gently tracing circles on your hip. the stadium is still loud around you, but it feels like it’s just the two of you here, his face inches from yours.

“think i can get a ‘good game’ kiss?” he asks with a wink, his voice teasing but hopeful. you roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way you’re smiling now.

“don’t push your luck, sim.” but before he can respond, you lean up, giving him the quickest, softest peck on the lips. it’s barely there, but it’s enough to make his eyes widen in surprise and a smile spread across his face.

“you’re making me want to win every game now,” he says, looking down at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“i guess you’ll just have to keep scoring, then,” you reply with a grin, stepping back slightly, though your hand stays in his, fingers tangled together.

“oh, trust me, y/n,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on you, “i’ll be scoring a lot.”

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[bigheartbuck]

8.17 fix it/canon divergent

"Eddie," Tommy says, and he sounds like he does at work. Firm. Calm. He's navigated helicopters through much worse than this. Raging storms and hurricanes. "Eddie, step away."

Eddie whips around, head snapping at him, eyes angry. Finger still pointed. Nostrils flaring. Buck is looking wide eyed. The tension in the air is palpable. Thick and heavy. "What are you doing here?" Eddie asks sharply and Tommy raises an eyebrow. Holds up the empty food containers. After the funeral, they'd all eaten at Hen's place. Buck had brought food for everyone. No one had really eaten anything. But it'd been nice, regardless. Or well, as nice as it gets when your captain dies and you have to do normal things after his funeral, such as eating and sleeping. Tommy had stayed behind to help Hen clean up. Had promised to drop off the food containers at Buck's.

So here he is. Backdoor wasn't shut and he walked in on Buck's face twisting into shame and grief and guilt and Eddie's raised voice.

Tommy puts the containers on the counter. Tries to meet Evan's eyes. It's charged in here. Tommy feels his stomach knot at the way Evan curls in on himself. Something isn't right. "Just came to bring these back," Tommy says, and then finally Evan looks back at him. "You okay?" Tommy asks.

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms. “He’s fine. We're okay. Buck doesn't need you.” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “Eddie, come on…”

But Eddie ignores him, stepping closer to Tommy. “You’re not part of this team. You don’t know what we’ve been through.” It's a grief response, probably. Eddie is hot headed. Can be arrogant and mean. Buck's mentioned it jokingly before but it doesn't seem funny now. Nothing about it is fucking funny.

Tommy meets Eddie's gaze, unyielding. "I’m just here for Evan.”

Buck pushes past Eddie and towards Tommy and Tommy can see it in his tense shoulders, his set jaw. He's going to cry. And he definitely doesn't want Eddie to see right now. Whatever their argument was about, he needs to get out of here. "You wanted to catch that movie, right?" Evan says, voice brittle and sharp and he pointedly ignores Eddie. Tommy doesn't even blink. He touches the small of Evan's back. "Yeah," he says gently. "We're running late, come on."

Evan doesn't say anything on the drive. He stares down at his phone and bites his lip, and then out of the window and then back at his phone again. Fiddles with the seam of his jeans. Bounces his leg. At a red light stop, Tommy reaches over. Places his hand on Evan's thigh. Evan stills underneath his palm. Outside it's starting to rain. Drizzle, really. "My place okay?" Tommy asks and keeps his hand right there. Eyes on the road.

"Please." Buck's voice is rough, hoarse. Another beat. "I don't need you to save me, by the way. This isn't -- I was handling it fine."

Tommy glances at him. His chest clenches. "Hey, I know. That's not what--"

"He said I always make it about me." Buck blurts out, and he's angry and hurt. Grips Tommy's hand with his own, squeezes tightly. "Said I-- I don't know. Doesn't matter." His breath hitches. "I tried so hard to be okay, Tommy, I really did. And I - I know I'm a lot but I really thought I-" He lets out a wet huff. "I was there for everyone, I really tried to be. Like he said. To be what they needed but I was selfish, apparently and I-"

Tommy parks the car. They're here. He kills the engine and twists in his seat to look at Buck properly. The rain is picking up now, drumming against the windows.

"You're not selfish," he says firmly. "You're grieving and taking care of everyone. You're the least selfish person I know." Throat working, Buck shakes his head, looking down at their hands. His eyes are wet.

"Come on, let's head inside. Got some sweats you can borrow." Steal. Buck used to steal them. Sleep in them, sleep in Tommy's shirts. Buck seems to remember too because he manages a small, soft smile.

They get inside and Tommy flicks on the lights, door falling shut behind them. He's barely out of his shoes when Evan steps into his space, crashes into him. Tommy lets out an oomph sound and then folds his arms around him. He's put on muscle, has become so solid and filled out but he buries himself deep into Tommy's chest. Tommy thinks about watching Buck through the monitors and how badly he wanted to hold him then. How badly he wanted to catch his pain with his bare hands. "I got you," he whispers and presses his nose into the curls. "I got you, baby." The pet name slips out like that. Evan doesn't seem to notice, he's trembling and shaking, and Tommy can feel him crying more than he can hear him.

Tommy holds him. Holds him through it all.

[mostly-imagines]

answering a question nobody asked: what are jason's love languages ranked?

giving:

5 ) gift giving is bottom tier for him. i just dont see how he could value that more than any of the above because of the way he grew up. like material things and money seem like something he’d reject more than anything to me. but he does still give you presents, of course. he’ll buy you flowers randomly and jewelry and little things he’d noticed you admiring. but i dont think he really does it as a method of expressing his love for you so much as just like a little nice thing to do for you. its not his preferred method of communication, at least.

4 ) a little lower on the list comes words of affirmation because i don’t think it comes as naturally to him. he’s a man of few words and those chosen are caked in sarcasm and dry in a way that attempts to push people away, even if he doesn’t mean to. i just think his words can be rough around the edges even if his meaning isn’t. when he can work through it though, his words are very gentle and genuine. not one for hyperbole but really truly means what he says. he hears that you’re insecure about how a dress looks on you and he’s telling you to ‘shut up, you look good.’ or you’re nervous and he’ll say “you’re fine, don’t worry about it.” to someone else’s ears it might sound dismissive but you know that not how he means it. there’s a lot of unsaid words with him that are more significant than whats coming out of his mouth. like i said though, only like level 10 acquaintances and you will ever know him well enough to decipher those secret meanings.

3 ) he tends to treat himself like a loner, pulling away from people like second nature, but after he met you he found himself wanting to be around you all the time. he’s not the best with words or romantic gestures so quality time is an easier way of reminding you he loves you. he likes just sitting with you and letting you ramble about your day—listening to your voice is a big part of his calming down process every night. but sitting in comfortable silence with you is probably his favorite. he doesn’t get that with a lot of people. silence—sure; comfortable—not so much. he loves the implied intimacy and trust of quietly cooking, napping together, or doing your own things in the same space.

2 ) physical touch is another big one for him. only unlockable after entering a relationship with him. he does it for a lot of reasons, common ones include: as a reminder that he’s there, to ease anxiety (yours or his own), as a sort of fidget, or if he’s feeling a little possessive. its honestly going to shock his family how much he initiates touch with you. he’ll shove them off of him when they try to hug him and is likely to throw hands if they get too touchy. so when they meet you for the first time and he’s squeezing your hand in his the whole night, shoulder to shoulder with you—they’re surprised, to say the least. as time goes on they start to notice that he looks borderline uncomfortable when he’s not touching you—like he doesn’t know what to do with his body. his favorite ways to touch you (non sexually) include: keeping you pressed back to his chest, having your leg hooked atop his when you’re sitting hanging out, hand on the back of your neck, and hands on your hips are a must.

1 ) jason's prime method of communication is through acts of service. he fully believes it’s his responsibility to take care of you and doing things for you comes very naturally to him anyways. he’s known to refuse to let you carry things, let you have the comfortable chair, give you the last of his snack, that kind of thing. he also wants to make your life easier as much as possible—he’ll insist on you telling him about things you need, especially things you aren’t able to do yourself. you never ever have to hire a guy to come look at anything broken in your apartment, jason’s got that shit under wraps. he’d honestly be a little hurt if you did. he’s got a wide array of skills under his belt, he can fix leaky pipes, install locks, build furniture, repair cars, you name it.

receiving:

5 ) he always appreciates getting gifts from you but it’s not necessarily his preferred way of receiving your love. gift giving and acts of service are bottom tier because they’re the only ones that he feels like are taking away from you. costing you money or energy, wasting it on him—he doesn’t want you to do that. he can’t feel loved by the gesture when he’s busy concerning himself with the idea that he’s putting you out for it. when you do give him gifts he likes it most when they’re little things, especially things that you made. make him a friendship bracelet, a simple painting, a fucking paper crane—he’ll love it. with things like that, it makes him really happy to see how excited you are to show him and that’s when he feels the love from you.

4 ) it’s always a little hit or miss with acts of service. he has a hard time accepting help, especially from you. he tends to feel like its his job to take care of you and if you have to help him, he’s doing something wrong. the best way to perform acts of service for him is through littler things. cooking his favorite dinner, checking up on how his stitches are healing, covering him up when its cold and he’s too busy/stubborn to go get a blanket. don’t make a whole thing about it, just do it and he’ll notice and he’ll be thinking about it for a while.

3 ) for the same reasons as mentioned earlier, he loves quality time with you. he prefers being on the receiving end of it though because he is a little insecure and absolutely loves when you go out of your way to spend time with him. tell him you want to be around him, tell him you miss him, tell him you’re happy he’s here. warning: he might cry.

2 ) you’ll notice this one because his breath will literally hitch. physical touch is one of the most prominent methods of affection in your relationship and he never gets used to it. the presence of just your head on his shoulder or your hand in his provides such a noticeable release of tension for him. he’s a huge huge fan of you tracing patterns anywhere on his skin, playing with his hair, and wrapping your arms around his middle so you can hold him close. climb on his lap unexpectedly and his heart will skip a few beats.

1 ) he won't ever admit it, but words of affirmation are his absolute biggest weakness. your boy has a praise kink, but i also think it's difficult for him to accept that so you have to be subtle about it and work up. it gets him really blushy and if you can manage to get him talking, he’s stammering. he can’t hold eye contact for shit when you call him pretty and it’s very amusing to you to see such a quick and drastic shift in his disposition. things that have straight up put him out of commission include: calling him “my pretty boy,” or “sweet boy,” “you always take such good care of me,” “you’re so strong,” “you’re the love of my life.” “i’m proud of you” will literally put him on his knees.

[maskedbyghost]

ghost with a reader who’s really anxious/overthinker during sex 😩😩🥺

i got another request asking for a virgin!reader with some nervous energy but a lot of enthusiasm, so i just combined them and made it soft and clingy and a little bit feral. thank you to the anons who sent those, y’all own my brain. cw: smut, anxiety and overthinking, soft dom simon, lots of reassurance and praise, possessive but gentle vibes, aftercare, clinginess, mentions of crying (but like overwhelmed/happy crying).

you’re already hiding your face in your hands when he leans over you again, big and warm and heavy in the way that feels reassuring instead of overwhelming, and even though you’ve already said “wait” a few times and squirmed away more than once, he hasn’t gotten frustrated or pulled back.

he’s just watching you now, calm as ever, mouth pulled into a faint smile like he finds you endearing instead of difficult, and that only makes you feel more self-conscious.

“we can stop,” he says plainly, and somehow it doesn’t sound like he’s disappointed. “we don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. i’d rather you be comfortable than push through something that doesn’t feel right.”

you groan and keep your face covered. “it’s not that,” you mutter. “i do want to. i just… i don’t know what i’m doing. i’m nervous. and overthinking everything. and probably being really weird right now.”

he kisses your wrist, then gently tugs your hands away from your face. “you’re not weird,” he says, looking down at you with the kind of patience that makes your chest ache a little. “you’re nervous. and that’s fine. it doesn’t scare me off, alright?”

you nod, even though your cheeks are burning and your whole body feels tense and unsure.

he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, and then lower, to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone—slowly, not rushed, nor pushing for more.

“you don’t need to have it all figured out. you don’t need to impress me,” he says. “just be here. with me.”

he says it so simply, so easily, and you believe him, even if your body still feels stiff and your mind won’t stop racing. you want this, you want him, but the anxiety is crawling all over your skin and your heart’s pounding so loud it’s hard to stay in the moment.

he settles between your legs again, not moving too fast, one of his hands resting over your stomach like he knows you need the weight there, something to ground you and warm to hold you still.

“just breathe,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you. we’ll take it slow. nothing has to happen all at once.”

you feel tears sting your eyes, not because anything’s wrong, but because he’s being so good to you. so calm, so kind, and it makes everything a little easier to manage.

when he starts to push in, it’s barely anything, just the tip, and your fingers immediately grip his shoulders and your whole body goes tense, not from pain but from how big it feels and how intense it suddenly is.

he doesn’t move. just kisses your temple and waits, his breathing shaky but controlled.

“you’re alright. you’re doing so well,” he says, brushing your hair back from your face. “just tell me what you need, and i’ll give it to you. we’re not in a rush.”

you nod, and he murmurs, “that’s my girl,” in a way that makes your heart clench and your body relax just a little more.

when you whisper, “okay,” he starts to move again, gently easing in until he’s fully buried inside you, and even though it’s a lot, it doesn’t feel too much—not with the way he’s looking at you, not with the way he’s holding you.

“you feel so good around me,” he says, his voice thick with restraint. “you’re doing so fucking good, sweetheart. i know it’s a lot. you’re taking me so well.”

you let out a whimper, both from the stretch and the weight of it all, and his hands are everywhere—holding your hips, stroking your sides, curling around your thigh like he doesn’t want to let go.

he stays slow, keeps his movements careful, and he doesn’t stop talking, just keeps giving you little things to focus on.

“you’re not too much,” he murmurs when you try to hide your face again. “you’re not doing anything wrong. you don’t need to worry about how you look or sound. i want you just like this.”

you try to believe him. and it gets easier when you stop thinking and just feel—his body against yours, his hands gripping tight, his mouth at your neck, the little praises he keeps whispering in between shaky breaths.

when he reaches between you, his fingers find your clit, and you jerk a little in surprise, but he doesn’t stop—just keeps rubbing you gently, patiently, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters to him.

“there you go,” he says. “that’s it. let me help you.”

and somehow, despite how nervous you were, despite how unsure everything felt just moments ago, you’re already on the edge before you even realize it, gasping into his shoulder as your body starts to tremble.

“you gonna come for me?” he says, and his voice is rough now, but still so sweet. “yeah? let go, baby. i’ve got you. you’re safe.”

and you do—you come with a shudder, gripping him tight, burying your face in his neck as your whole body goes hot and soft and overwhelmed in the best way, and he holds you through it, breathing hard and kissing the side of your head, whispering, “that’s my girl, fuck, that’s it, you did so good.”

he doesn’t last long after that, not with how tightly you’re wrapped around him and how much he’s clearly been holding back, and when he finishes, it’s with a low groan and a few rough thrusts, then stillness as he stays inside you and clutches you like he never wants to let go.

you’re both quiet for a moment, your limbs tangled, your skin flushed, and you’re not thinking anymore—you’re just tired and happy and full and feeling safe in his arms.

he kisses your shoulder and pulls you closer.

“you don’t have to be brave with me,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “you just have to be mine. i’ll take care of the rest.”

he doesn’t pull out right away. he just stays there, breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling against yours like he’s trying to memorize your body's rhythm.

you’re still a little dazed, arms limp around his shoulders, and your thighs are trembling but you don’t want him to move either, not when you feel so full and warm and safe like this, not when he’s still murmuring little things against your neck like, “you did so good,” and “you were made for me.”

and then, eventually, he does move, carefully easing out of you, and he makes this low, strained sound like it physically pains him to separate from you.

“fuck,” he mutters, half to himself, dragging his hand down his face like he’s trying to stay composed, but his brain’s still short-circuited. “you—fuckin’ hell, you just…”

he glances at you, cheeks flushed, eyes dark, mouth twitching like he’s trying not to say something too intense.

“you alright?”

you nod, still catching your breath. “tired. but yeah.”

and then he’s back on you in a second, cupping your face, brushing sweaty hair off your forehead, kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw, like he needs to check every part of you to make sure you’re okay.

“good,” he breathes. “that’s good. ‘cause you were perfect. you don’t even know—”

he cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds a little overwhelmed, like he’s trying to play it cool and failing.

“what?” you ask, half asleep and smiling now, because he’s acting like you just knocked him flat.

“you don’t get it,” he says, dragging the sheet over your bodies as he settles beside you, still so close his thigh is hooked over yours. “i’ve been picturing this—wanting this—for so long, and now that i’ve had you, now that i’ve seen how good you look like that…”

he kisses you again, this time slower, deeper, like he’s trying to anchor himself back down. “you’re in trouble, sweetheart.”

you snort. “me?”

he nods seriously, brushing your lip with his thumb. “yeah. you. ‘cause now i’m not gonna let you go. ever.”

you laugh, but your stomach flips a little, because the way he says it isn’t a joke—he means it.

he means mine in a way that’s not just possessive, but protective, like he’s decided you’re the most important thing in the world and he’s not letting the universe take you from him.

he’s back to touching you again, tracing patterns over your shoulder, your waist, your hip—hands never still, like he can’t help himself.

“you’re sore?” he asks after a few minutes, voice quieter now.

“a little.”

he hums and shifts. “stay here,” he says. “don’t move.”

you close your eyes, already half-asleep, but he’s back fast—warm towel, glass of water, his shirt that he slides over your arms even though it’s way too big on you.

“you didn’t have to do all that,” you mumble, but he just shushes you and kisses your forehead.

“yes i did.”

you end up curled in his chest, limbs tangled, your face tucked into his neck while he rubs your back in lazy circles. he’s not even pretending to sleep—he’s just staring at you with this dumb little proud look like he just won the lottery and doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“you’re mine now,” he says again, softer this time, like a promise more than a claim.

“i always was,” you whisper.

and the way he holds you tighter after that, you feel it in your bones.

----------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs

[theemporium]

[5.1k] with the hughes bowl around the corner, luke is finding it hard to push away his doubtful thoughts. fortunately, he has a friend who’s willing to keep his mind preoccupied with far more sinful thoughts. unfortunately, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with said friend. (smut)

series masterlist

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Luke Hughes felt lost. 

Not physically, fortunately. He was very much aware of where he was—on his bed in the apartment he shared with his older brother, just to prove his point—but it brought him little to no comfort to be in the place he called home for the majority of the year. 

To be completely honest, Luke didn’t even know what he considered home anymore. Whether it was the house he grew up in in Toronto. Or the one in Michigan. Or the crappy shared house he moved into with the boys in college. Or even the lakehouse he has spent the last few summers in.

They felt familiar and homely at points in his life, but now he wasn’t sure. 

There was a voice in the back of his head that told him New Jersey was his home now, that he had accepted as much the day his name was called in the draft. He knew he would be following in Jack’s footsteps, he would be moving to a new state and he would be integrating himself into the city. That he was now a part of the hockey team that the locals held near and dear to their heart, that they saw him as one of them now. 

And for a little while, he got it. 

He found a sense of comfort in their shared apartment, in living with his brother again after years of only sharing summers together. He found comfort in the days after games where he would come back home and collapse on his bed, or after roadies where he could finally return to normalcy. 

He was fine with it.

Hockey was all about adapting and persevering to new environments. He could handle the hotel rooms and stiff pillows because he knew he would eventually come back to the place he called home. 

But something felt off this time around. 

They had landed pretty late in New Jersey coming off their ten day roadie and Luke had expected to find a sense of solace in the fact he would be able to fall face first into his own bed with no alarms or annoying brothers prepared to wake him up at some ungodly hour the next day. 

Instead, Luke just felt…lost. 

It was the only way he could describe the tenseness in his body for the last two weeks. He felt on edge, constantly alert. He felt like his body was moving through his daily routine but his head was far, far away. He felt like he was trying to catch up with everything, like he was seeing everything happen through his own two eyes but couldn’t quite seem to process what was happening. 

His body was on autopilot and he was clawing on the inside for some control. 

It wasn’t a completely foreign feeling to him. He had felt similarly through the later years in high school and college, when the classes started getting a little harder and he was fighting to stay afloat to the point his brain just shut down and his body kept moving.

He had never really felt that way about hockey before but it was just another one of those things that professional hockey threw at him whilst he desperately tried to cling on to what he knew. 

There was a voice in the back of his head that told him he should be responsible and logical and tell someone. He should say something to Jack, to see if his brother had any advice. Or maybe even Quinn. Or even Nico, since the captain had reassured him time and time again that Luke was one of his boys too. 

He should tell someone because he knew what he was feeling wasn’t normal and wasn’t good in the long run. But unfortunately that logical voice was completely overshadowed by the one telling him that he couldn’t go running to others whenever he had a problem, that he had to learn to cope and adapt, that he couldn’t face saying to the people around him that he was struggling when they were all so excited he finally made it to the big leagues. 

His parents. His friends. The hundreds of fans that had been counting down the days until all three Hughes brothers would make it to the NHL. 

He couldn’t let them think he wasn’t made for the tough life of professional hockey, but he felt like he was going to go out of his mind if he didn’t tell someone. If he didn’t have someone who would get it, who wouldn’t judge him for the doubts plaguing his mind. 

It was close to two in the morning when Luke reached for his phone, opening up his contacts and pressing your name far quicker than should have been possible. But it felt like muscle memory as he clicked your contact, his thumbs typing a message and hitting send before he could think twice. 

hockey boy: hey u up?

Luke wasn’t really expecting you to reply, if he was being honest. Maybe a follow up message in the morning but he assumed you would be fast asleep by now, as any normal person would be. He let out a huff as his head dropped back against his pillow, his eyes blankly staring at the ceiling above as he contemplated what he could do to fall asleep quicker. However, he was pleasantly surprised when his phone buzzed on his chest. 

cherry🍒: oooh i think i know how this one goes 

cherry🍒: i hope you’re wearing something sexy ;) 

Luke breathed out a laugh, shaking his head fondly as he quickly typed a response.

hockey boy: no no

hockey boy: just wanted to talk 

hockey boy: couldn’t get to sleep

Your reply came much faster this time.

cherry🍒: everything okay?? 

hockey boy: yeah don’t worry about it 

cherry🍒: bullshit

cherry🍒: get dressed, see in fifteen minutes 

hockey boy: ????? 

However, your reply never came. Instead, Luke was left staring at his phone screen for a few minutes with his brows furrowed in utter confusion before his brain seemed to snap on. He scrambled to push the duvet off of him and quickly shuffle towards his wardrobe, picking clothes that he is pretty sure were clean before shoving his keys and phone into his pocket. 

He glanced down, seeing another message from you telling him to come outside and his chest tightened a little. It felt something close to the adrenaline he got before he stepped on the ice, that rush that he was really doing this—except this time he was sneaking out like some rebellious teenager who was trying not to wake his brother up. 

God knows what wild assumptions Jack would come up with as to why his little brother was sneaking out at two in the morning.

You were already smiling at him when he spotted your car, waving him over as the cold winter night chill made him regret not grabbing another layer beyond the hoodie he slipped on. He quickly rushed over, letting out a sigh of relief when he was instantly hit with warmth as he slipped into the passenger seat before he turned to look at you.

“Hi,” he whispered, because it just felt right to do so.

“Hi,” you grinned back at him before nodding at him. “Put your seatbelt on.” 

He raised his brows, but he did as he was told. “You gonna tell me where we are going?” 

Your grin widened. “Nope.” 

Luke tilted his head. “Are you taking me somewhere to kill me or something?” 

“Yeah because killing a six foot something hockey player who could probably throw me into the Hudson River with ease is exactly what I planned to do with my Wednesday night,” you snorted, shaking your head as you began to pull out of your parking spot.

“You could push me in when I’m not looking,” Luke countered.

Your lips twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind but that’s not the plan for tonight.” 

“Remind me never to go to the river with you.”

…

“You know, I’m pretty sure this is the exact opposite of what the trainers recommended.” 

“I don’t see you complaining.” 

“Oh, I’m not. Just pointing out a fact.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you lightly shoved the boy settled in the backseat next to you whilst he beamed in response. You were parked in some random, empty parking lot. You weren’t exactly sure where but it was far away enough from the rest of the world for you to deem it the perfect spot. 

After annoying you for five minutes, Luke had fallen silent when you pulled into a McDonald’s drive thru and proceeded to order far more than was necessary for two people. But Luke only grinned, making some comment about dragging you into the river with him if his trainers found out that you just snorted at. 

And now, the two of you were huddled into the backseat of your car, eating away whilst his phone played some country album he was insistent to get you to like in the front of the car in one of the cupholders that was meant for your drinks. 

“So,” Luke started, leaning over to steal a fry from your stash before you could slap his hand away. “Why are we here? Decided to give me a pity meal before you killed me?” 

“Maybe,” you grinned, leaning over to steal a handful of his fries before he had the chance to stop you. “You just seemed like you needed to get out of your head a bit. This is what I do.” 

He raised his brows. “A midnight McDonald’s run?” 

“Sometimes it’s McDonald’s, sometimes it’s cookies,” you shrugged in response. “The snack changes. But the drive away from everything is what helps. God knows how many times I’ve done it when I was drowning in assignments or at work.”

He swallowed. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” your smile softened a little. “What’s up, bud? What’s got you like this?” 

“I…” Luke paused, trying to string his thoughts together but it was hard when they were swirling around in his head. “I don’t know. I just feel like I have spent the last few weeks like a robot, doing what I was supposed to be doing. But not…doing it. If that makes sense.” 

You nodded, your face remaining serious even if Luke was pretty sure he would have laughed at how bizarre it sounded if the roles were reversed. “You’re playing some intense games. Maybe your brain just needed a break.” 

“But I don’t want a break,” he said with a huff, frustrated at himself more than anything. “This is what I’ve been training for all my life. I should be able to fucking handle it.” 

“You can and you are,” you said to him. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t get some extra help along the way.” 

“Like what?” Luke snorted. “The other boys on the team—”

“Probably understand exactly what you’re going through,” you interrupted, nudging your knee against his. “You’d be surprised what you don’t know about a person, Luke.” 

He hummed, not saying much more as he stared at you with an inquisitive look. 

“You’re still playing really well,” you assured him, shifting your gaze away from him and back towards your food. “At least, most of the commenters are saying that. A few of them are dicks though. I have made a list of the ones I don’t like.” 

Luke laughed, somehow not surprised by that. “Yeah, kinda comes with the territory. I’m not gonna be everyone’s favourite player.” 

“Well, I think they are stupid,” you told him, your nose scrunched up slightly. “You’re my favourite player.” 

“Because you’re not biassed at all,” he teased.

“Hm, you’re right. I should be fairer,” you grinned at him, something quite like mischief shining in your eyes. “You’re playing the Canucks soon, right? I heard there’s this Hughes guy on the team that is really good—”

“Ha, ha,” Luke deadpanned before frowning a little. “I’m surprised you know.” 

“Please, it’s the only thing I’ve heard about for your last few days,” you said, scoffing a little in disbelief. Then again, Luke was rarely watching his games back with the running commentary over them. “The Hughes Bowl has quite a name to it though, I’m excited.” 

“Do you want to watch it?” Luke blurted out. “Like, in person.” 

You paused. “As in watching it in the arena?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing back his nerves. “I can get you a ticket. I happen to know a guy on the team or something.” 

You snorted. “Really? I’m happy to just watch it from home. I don’t want to put you in a tight position trying to get a ticket or anything.” 

“Nah, I can get you a ticket,” Luke reassured you, waving off your concerns. “Just one condition.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh?” 

“You gotta wear number forty-three,” he said with a grin. “Painted on your cheek or something. Proper puck bunny.” 

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder but his heart stuttered a little at the sound of your laugh.

“Alright, Hughes, I’ll be your puck bunny for the night because I’m a good friend like that.” 

And he chose to ignore the way the taste in his mouth instantly soured at that, instead leaning over to try and steal one of the chicken nuggets from your box instead. 

…

When Luke thought of going pro, he thought of high-speed skating and fast-paced games against some of the best players in the world. 

Never once in his daydreams as a child did he ever consider the media aspect of the job. Nor did he consider the fact it would be so fascinating to people that three brothers would be playing in one game. 

Which, in retrospect, he did understand why. He just really wished he was not one of the brothers. 

The whole week had been countless interviews and conferences of journalists asking the same question in different ways and Luke was losing his mind. 

How does it feel to play with your brothers in the NHL? 

Did you ever think the three of you would be playing in a NHL game together? 

Will your parents support different teams or both?

Are you excited to finally play Quinn on the ice after being on the same team as Jack for a few months now? 

Are your parents proud of all three sons playing together? 

Luke was surprised his mind hadn’t exploded after the third day of the insistent questioning. And he knew both Quinn and Jack were getting the same treatment, getting thrown questions every few minutes about Luke finally joining them in the big leagues. 

But it did little to squash the anxiety that had been bubbling in his chest all week. 

It felt like everyone was expecting a spectacle. It felt like suddenly all eyes were on them, on him. He wasn’t just a normal rookie anymore, suddenly he was the third Hughes brother that was meant to show how great and amazing he was compared to his brothers. Suddenly, it felt way more intense than an average game in the season. 

And yet, everyone else seemed excited whilst he felt like the only one who was drowning once again. 

“This is a cop out! You have to pick one!” 

“She’s trying to save your feelings because she would have obviously chosen a Canucks jersey.” 

“You’re both so immature,” Ellen commented, rolling her eyes fondly at her two eldest sons. “Luke hasn’t complained once.” 

Luke snapped out of his daze when all eyes turned to him. “Uh, yeah, the shirts are cool, Mom.” 

Ellen frowned a little. “Are you okay, honey? Jack, are you taking care of your little brother?” 

“Oh, he’s fine,” Jack waved off his parents, his legs swinging as he sat on the kitchen counter with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face. “Lukey just has performance anxiety because his girlfriend is watching tonight.” 

“Girlfriend?” Ellen repeated before turning to her youngest with a smile. “You didn’t tell us we were meeting your girlfriend tonight.”

“Because you’re not,” Luke quickly bit out, shooting Jack an exasperated look. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend. And her seat is in a different section.” 

“Just a friend,” Quinn snorted. “Sure, bud.” 

“Be nice,” Jim shot his eldest son a look. 

“Actually,” Luke suddenly shot up onto his feet. “I have to give her her ticket so I should get going. I’ll see you guys at the arena.” 

Ellen frowned. “Luke—” 

“Didn’t you say her ticket was waiting at the front office?” Jack questioned with a confused frown.

“Change of plans! I have to take it to her! Bye!” 

Luke didn’t give anyone in his family much chance to further question his behaviour before he was barrelling out the door, bag in one hand and his car keys (because yes, he did finally purchase his own car after Jack kept bitching) in the other. 

His brain was in overdrive as he started the car, his body once again working on muscle memory as he started the route to your apartment. It occurred to him as a passing thought that he should have messaged you to warn you, or check you were even home. But he never did.

Instead, he showed up at your door, knocking exactly three times before he paced his spot until the door swung open. 

And then every single thought left his brain the second he saw you. 

“Luke?” 

He cleared his throat. “I…game…ticket?” 

You laughed, a little nervous. “What?” 

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he murmured, shaking his head as he tried to get ahold of himself. “Everyone was talking about the game and I started spiralling and…here I am!” 

“Come in,” you said in a softer voice, your fingers wrapped around his wrist as you pulled him into the apartment, letting the door close behind him.

You guided him through the apartment, pulling him towards the kitchen and letting him settle back against the counter as he watched you grab a glass from the cupboard to fill it up with water for him. Or at least, he was trying to passively watch you and not focus on your attire that was making his head spin for a whole new reason. 

“I, uh,” he paused, clearing his throat. “I like your outfit.” 

“Yeah?” You grinned at him over your shoulder, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the deep red lipstick staining your mouth. “Is it puck bunny enough?” 

His eyes moved from your red lips to the number 43 painted on both cheeks before glancing down at the oversized Devils hoodie you had on. It had his number on the front, and on the sleeve. In fact, he was surprised they even sold those hoodies considering— 

“Is that my hoodie?” He questioned, straightening up a little whilst you just shrugged innocently. 

“I was working on a time crunch for merch to wear,” you answered with a smile. “And it was easier to steal considering you left it here the other day.”

“I would have given you it if you asked,” Luke murmured, thanking you as he took the glass of water from you and took a small sip. “Or I would have given you my jersey.”

Your nose scrunched. “Pretty sure you need that.” 

“I have spare ones,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes when you laughed in response. “You look good.” 

“I’m glad I passed the test,” you teased as you leaned against the counter beside him. “Now, wanna tell me what’s up? I thought you were going to talk to someone about this.” 

“I was. I just…didn’t know when,” Luke admitted shyly before sighing, placing the glass behind him on the counter. “I don’t know, I just feel like my head is spinning with so many thoughts and I don’t know how to shut it off. And that’s, like, the last thing I need before a game. Let alone this game!” 

You nodded in understanding.

“I just feel like there’s so many people I might possibly let down and I just can’t shake it off,” Luke added, his lips turned downwards. “I just want it to stop.” 

“You know,” you started. “I may have a temporary solution.” 

“Yes. Whatever it is. Yes.” 

“Luke,” you shot him a look. “You don’t even know what it is. Remember what we said about consent?” 

“I thought that was about sex stuff, why—” He paused, his lips parting in surprise. “Is your solution a sex thing?” 

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s a sex thing. Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah,” Luke replied instantly. “Of course I do.” 

“Okay, good, then just let me take care of you,” you murmured before you leaned in to kiss him. 

Luke felt his shoulders drop a little the second he felt your lips on his, the second he felt your tongue darting out and teasing his own. His hands dropped to your waist to pull you closer, a soft moan leaving his lips as his hands slipped down to palm your ass. 

He was so lost in the sensation of kissing you—something he hadn’t done in a few days, thank you very much—that he barely noticed the way your fingers traced along the waistband of his trousers until the heel of your palm pressed down against his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Luke muttered under his breath, his brain lagging behind as he tried to keep up with your kisses as you began to palm his cock over his clothes. “Cherry, I—” 

“We can stop, if you want,” you reassured him, lightly nudging your nose against his. “Just say the word.” 

“Please don’t stop,” Luke rasped. 

Luke barely had a chance to process the wolfish smile on your face before you slid to your knees in front of him, one hand continuing to stroke him whilst the other moved to unbutton his pants. His mouth went dry at the sight.

“Cherry—” 

“Trust me, yeah?” 

Luke nodded. 

“Good boy,” you smiled before pulling his trousers down to his ankles. 

His hands shifted to grasp the counter behind him, leaning against it for support as he watched you lean forward and press a soft, feather-light kiss over his boxers. And then another. And another. All along the length of his cock before you reached the tip and lightly sucked over the material of his boxers. 

“Oh shit,” Luke swore, his knuckles going white at how hard he was holding onto the counter. 

“Just relax,” you hummed, your words vibrating against him as your fingers hooked on the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs until they joined his pants by his ankles. “Gonna take care of you, help you get out of your head a little.

“Mhm,” Luke nodded, his voice a little more high-pitched than he would have liked. 

His eyes were glued to you, like he couldn’t even look away if he wanted to (not that he did). His eyes were transfixed on the way your hands gripped the base of his cock, the way his tip teased the same red painted lips he had been losing his mind over since you opened the door. 

Luke tucked his bottom lip between his teeth to try save some of his dignity when you shamelessly sucked on the head of his cock, moaning around him like it you were the one being pleasured. 

His chest felt like it was about to be caved in from his heavy pants, his fingers itching to pull the rest of his clothes off as you started moving your head, as you started bobbing and stroking him. 

He let out a choked out noise, something stuck between a moan and a whine as you took him deeper into your mouth. As your red lips wrapped around his cock, painting his skin the same colour as your lipstick. As your cheeks hallowed and the sight of his number painted on your face whilst you stared up at him with wide eyes became his favourite fucking sight in the whole world. 

And then you were moaning too, the feeling of your mouth vibrating around his cock so overwhelming that he could have sworn his knees actually buckled.

You pulled off, your hand still pumping up and down the length of his cock as you grinned up at him, unbothered and uncaring about the mess. Your lips were wet and smudged, a string of saliva just breaking from your lip to the tip of his cock. You leaned back on your knees, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks, glossy eyes and red lips he had bitten raw trying to hold back his moans. 

“God, look at you,” you mused, your thumb sliding over the slit on the tip of his cock. Your smile widened when he let out a shaky, breathless moan. “You look so pretty like this, Luke, wish you could see yourself.” 

“Bet—” He took a deep breath. “—my perspective is so much better.” 

“Yeah?” You hummed, leaning in to lick the beads of precome leaking from his lip. “You like this baby?” 

He nodded. “So much.”

“Good,” you smiled up at him, your eyes remaining on his face as you teased his cock along your lips again. “Be a good boy and come for me then.” 

There wasn’t a single thought in his head other than youyouyouyouyou. He could barely care about the state he was in or the fact he was probably due to head to rink soon because you were on your knees in front of him, bobbing your head up and down on his cock, taking him so deep that your nose was brushing the curls at the base of his cock. 

He could feel his muscles tensing, his hands grasping onto the counter like a lifeline as he shamelessly moaned your name as you kept going and going and going until he was coming down your throat. 

Luke wasn’t even sure at what point he closed his eyes, his head spinning as his orgasm washed over him and almost knocked him off his feet. He let out a shaky breath, slowly blinking his eyes open to look down and find you slowly swiping a dribble of his come that escaped and sucking it back into your mouth.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his dick pathetically twitching at the sight. He almost wished he could take a picture of you, just for himself to hoard. “You’re going to kill. Like, actually kill me.”

You laughed, your eyes glittering with an emotion he couldn’t quite understand. “Don’t die on me before I see you play in person, Hughes. You’ll let down your favourite puck bunny.” 

Luke could only roll his eyes fondly. “I’ll score a couple of goals for you to say thank you for the blowjob.” 

“I want a hatrick, Hughes.”

…

Luke did manage to score a goal at the end of the second period. 

And just to make it a little bit sweeter, the Devils did win the Hughes Bowl, much to Quinn’s dismay. 

But the lingering anxiety that had been gnawing at him for the last week was nowhere to be found as he felt his teammates laugh and hug and cheer around him, buzzing as they huddled their way down the tunnel and back towards the locker room. 

Jack was grinning as wide as he was as they peeled off their gear, rushing through their post-game routine and speeches so they could meet their parents and Quinn outside. He was letting himself get sucked into the celebrations, listening to whatever god awful playlist Nate had put on as they continued to mess about in the locker room, high off their win. 

“You should invite your friend to dinner,” was the first thing Ellen said once he and Jack exited the locker room. “To celebrate your win.” 

“And Quinn’s loss,” Jack added with a grin.

“Watch it,” Jim murmured, but it was fond as he wrapped his arm around Quinn. “We are proud of all three of you.”

“And we will kick your asses next time,” Quinn said in that quiet, confident tone only he could do. 

“Yeah, she should be hanging about. Let me text her,” Luke said, still riding off high spirits as he stepped away from his family and pulled his phone out. He couldn’t fight back the smile off his face when he found some messages already waiting from you.

cherry🍒: YOU SCOOOOORED!!! 

cherry🍒: i’m taking that as payment for earlier 

cherry🍒: you guys won because of a lucky blowjob

cherry🍒: wooooo!! you won my first live hockey game!! congrats!! 

hockey boy: hey u still around? 

cherry🍒: no sorry :( 

cherry🍒: i left after the final buzzer 

cherry🍒: why? what’s up?

Luke frowned a little, trying to fight the way his stomach twisted at the fact you left so quickly. He thought the unspoken invite to hang behind with him was obvious but apparently not. 

hockey boy: just wanted to see u after the game

hockey boy: jack keeps talking about u so my parents invited you to dinner 

cherry🍒: aw that’s nice of them, tell them thanks!

cherry🍒: but this night should be for you and your family!!

cherry🍒: not exactly a place for a friend haha 

cherry🍒: but we can celebrate together tomorrow after practice?

hockey boy: yeah sure 

hockey boy: i’ll come over 

cherry🍒: enjoy rubbing in the win to your brother ;)

“Luke?”

Luke cleared his throat, quickly locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket before he turned back to his parents. He put on a smile, one that felt far too similar to the media smile he gave the cameras, and shrugged his shoulders in response. 

“My friend is busy, other plans or something,” he lied through his teeth. “She said thank you for the offer though.” 

“Aw, maybe next time,” Ellen smiled. 

Luke only nodded in response, following his parents and his brothers out into the players’ car park as he ignored the bitter, ugly feeling bubbling in his stomach at the use of friend. He knew that’s what the two of you were, you had said so multiple times and so had he.

But Luke couldn’t help but wonder if there was a chance for something more. He couldn’t help but imagine a world where you would attend more games, where he would leave the locker room and you would be waiting for him beside his parents. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if you had been more than a friend in his head for far longer than he cared to admit. 

And he really couldn’t help but wonder if he was stuck in the friendzone for good with you. 

.

[rosierin]

it suits you | atsumu miya

synopsis; (y/n) pushes atsumu's hair back one day and says it suits him. he has never changed his hair since.

this could potentially be a continuation for this fic

a/n; in my mind this is canon and this is what inspired his post-time skip hairstyle

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

It wasn’t that deep.

At least not to (y/n).

It was just a regular night in the apartment—TV on, a bowl of popcorn half-finished between them, and the comforting weight of doing absolutely nothing together.

Osamu was working late again, some last-minute rush order at the restaurant. Suna had disappeared into the loft hours ago and hadn’t been seen since, probably swallowed whole by anime, gaming, or sleep.

Which left just the two of them.

Atsumu was slouched on the floor, back against the couch, legs stretched out like he owned the place. (Y/n) sat behind him, perched with her knees tucked under her chin, nursing a mug of tea and lazily tossing popcorn at his head.

“Missed again,” he said without looking, one hand catching the flying kernel mid-air like he had a sixth sense. He huffed a laugh before plopping the popcorn into his mouth. “How are ya missin’ at this range?”

(Y/n) frowned, but a smile was forming. “Pretty sure your hair's just deflecting it or something. Probably got repelled from the amount of bleach you use."

He clicked his tongue and turned slightly, one knee propped, tossing her a smirk over his shoulder. “Uh. Excuse you. My hair’s flawless, thanks. Not my fault ya got bad aim.”

“My aim is fine,” she said, before promptly pelting another piece at him. It hit him square in the forehead and bounced off with a sad little thud. She grinned. “See?”

He grumbled, rubbing at the spot with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Ugh. Ya got grease on me.”

(Y/n) watched, amused, as he fussed over the tiniest mark on his skin—rubbing like she’d somehow sabotaged his entire skincare routine. Not that she could blame him. He actually looked good lately. Ever since she'd bullied him into trying toner a few weeks back, his complexion had been clearer, brighter. Almost dewy.

An idea sprung to mind.

She reached forward without thinking, brushing her fingers through his bangs—light, casual, a little absentminded. Her hand swept them gently back, smoothing the front of his hair away from his face, tucking a few strands behind his ear as she looked at him.

“There,” she murmured, mostly to herself. Then, with a pleasant brightness to her voice, “Huh. That actually looks really good on you.”

Atsumu blinked.

The world did not blink with him. Time very rudely continued.

He swallowed. “Huh?”

“Your hair. Pushed back.”

She tilted her head, smiling in that simple, nonchalant way that meant she didn’t realize she was casually sending his heart into overdrive.

“It suits you. Makes you look… mature or something.”

“Mature or somethin',” he repeated, still frozen in place like he was having a hard time catching up.

She leaned back onto her palms, shrugging. “Dunno. Just a thought. Maybe you should keep it like that.”

And just like that, she went back to drinking her tea, eyes trained on the TV.

Meanwhile, Atsumu was sitting there like he’d just heard the prophecy of his destiny. Like someone had revealed the cheat code to life. The code being: wear your hair the way she likes it.

“Right,” he mumbled, ears faintly pink. “Sure. I mean—yeah. I might.”

And the next day?

Hair. Pushed. Back.

No announcement. No explanation. Just a casual new era that he absolutely pretended was his idea.

Osamu noticed. Suna noticed. Suna definitely gave him a knowing look.

But Atsumu didn’t say a word.

Didn’t feel like he had to.

Because when (y/n) passed him in the hallway that morning and gave his hair a light pat, smiled, and said, “See? Told you it suits you,”

…Well. That was that.

He never changed it back.

[k1mbe3rly]

hi dear I hope you’re doing well.

could you please make a sieun x reader where sieun is envious cuz the reader (his gf) is getting too close to suho. thank you!

Jealousy looks good on you

warnings: smut,

Ever since you and suho met each other y’all were quick to become best friends as well, he even taught you a bit of fighting moves and third wheels you and Sieun, but lately it’s like sieun is third wheeling you both, Sieun was quick to notice you and Suho closeness and how quickly y’all connected, he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous because of it. At first he was gonna ignore but he couldn’t

After having lunch with both of them, Suho had to go to his job leaving you and Sieun alone, you smiled softly wrapping your arm around his arm while walking home, you groaned “Ughhh i’m so full! are you?” you said making a conversation, he looked over at you and just nodded looking foward, you raised an eyebrow “Are you okay Sieun? why the long face?” you said with a cheeky smile pointing his cheek, he gently shoved your hand away, “I’m fine..just thinking.” he said plainly

“About?” you asked him still looking up at him, he hesitated to tell you and just shaked his head, once yall arrived to his place it’s been a tiny bit awkward, still noticing his plain expression, “Are you sure your okay? what’s wrong?” you asked him, he sighed softly, “What’s going on between you and suho..yall been, i don’t know hanging out a lot?” he simply asked, you raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean? we’re just good friends” you told him, “You sure about that?” he said with no hesitation, than realization hit you, he was jealous as you smirked a bit, “Why? jealous Sieun?” you teased

He just stared at him his back against the headboard, you crawled on his lap, “You have no reason to be jealousss, i’ve never seen you jealous, it’s look good on you..” you whispered to him, he got a bit flustered, “Seriously tho. What’s going on?” he asked again, “Nothing, i swear, i’ll distant myself for you baby” you said kissing his cheek

He hummed a bit, you than kissed him which he kissed you back, his hands slightly going to your hips, you slightly pushed your tongue in his mouth which made him grunt in surprise, but he went along with it, your tongue on his dancing around it, finally pulling back you took off your own shirt, his eyes soften at your body admiring it, your hand took his off which he didn’t resist, “I’ll make sure you never feel jealous again okay..?” you told him as he just nodded feeling excited

His hands exploring your body, he then unhooks your bra letting your bra fall off. You lifted up a bit to slide down your pants as he watches, his breath going heavy a bit as he realizes he should undress too quickly fumbling with his pants and pulling them down as well, he waited until he saw you take off your panties to take his boxers off, which was right after your pants were off

He quickly removes his boxers, positioning you directly above his cock, he slowly lowers you down onto his length, filling you completely with one smooth thrust, you moaned softly, as he let out a tiny noise at the sudden hot and tight feeling, as you begin slowly riding him, his hands begin roaming over your stomach and chest possessively, slowly guiding you as well, his cock hitting all the right spots nice and slowly, soft moans falling out your mouth, while riding him you kissed all over his face making sure he feels completely loved and that nothing is happening

You slowly picked up the pace, his eyes closing and his mouth opening slightly, enjoying the feeling of you doing all the work, “I’ll make sure you feel good okay? you just sit there” you whispered to him as he just nodded, he was practically hugging you, his arms around your waist and your chest on his chest, his face in your neck moaning softly, as you pick up the pace again, his whines become more frequent. He loves how you're treating him so gently

You paused for a moment steadying him, wanting him to be able to cum, you slowly bounced on him, second by second going faster, he moaned out feeling your ass crash down onto his hips as you kept going faster, he watches your boobs bounce with your movements, he tilts his head back, a loud moan escaping his lips as you bounce faster on him. His fingers clutch desperately at your thighs, his nails leaving marks. His hands move up to your bouncing hips, trying to slow you down but your relentless pace makes his arms weak, “Just wanna make you cum..” you moaned to him as he nodded feeling his orgasm build up

You started moaning as well feeling your orgasm build as well, his hands move to the bed sheets quickly clawing at the bed sheets, “Oh my-.. i’m gonna- i’m gonna cum!” he whimpered out, you tried to speed up as you suddenly came on him, your cum making a mess on his cock as he looked down biting his lip, watching as his length disappears in and out, he moans loudly as he also cums, you panted stopping

Both of yall taking a breath as you fell onto him hugging him slightly, “Feeling better..?” you asked him, he nodded as a small smile formed on his face being glad to have you with him.

[moonstruckme]

Hello hello!! In love w you and all your writing 🙈 such a fan!! For a request, was thinking it would be so so cute to see cuddles where Sirius decides to comfort r in his animagus form (perhaps because r is sick or just had a surgery? seen so many cute vids where dogs can tell their human is not well and comforts them 😢) could be with just Sirius or wolfstar or poly etc etc! Thank you!!

Thank you for requesting angel!!

cw: hospital, brief non-sexual nudity

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“What’s your plan if a nurse comes in?” you ask in a murmur. 

Padfoot only looks at you with his big, black dog eyes. Guileless. You draw your pinkie up the line of his snout and between his brows. 

“Someone’s going to come eventually. I won’t let them take you to the pound or anything, but there’ll be a lot of questions for me. Why is it that you always have to make trouble?” 

He bumps his nose up into your palm. You could almost swear he’s raising one of his furry brows. 

You aren’t really expecting a reply. Secretly you’re happy he’s here, having somehow managed to sneak in before the hospital visiting hours and lying so calmly beside you in the small bed, getting incriminating pawprints and black dog fur on the white sheets. It’s a comfort. You hadn’t liked spending the night away from your own bed; you’d missed your boyfriends to the point of embarrassment, and Padfoot makes for a very cuddly companion after your long night. 

“Do you think that maybe if I hide you under the covers,” you tease, petting his head, “they won’t notice?” 

You fear you may have to put your half-formed plan into action when the door to your room unlatches. You look up, something that feels frighteningly like nervous laughter brewing in your chest, but it’s only Remus. He opens the door slowly, quiet in case you’re asleep, but his eyes widen when he sees who’s sharing your bed. 

“Sirius!” he hisses, hastily shutting the door behind him. “I’ve been looking for you, you twat.” 

You look down at your boyfriend’s canine form in dismay. “You didn’t tell him you were coming?” 

“He did not.” Remus’ expression is exasperated. “He said that he wanted to come see you, but I told him we had to wait until visiting hours.” 

Beside you, Padfoot snuffles moodily.

“Yes, well.” Remus pulls up the chair that’s along the wall for visitors, dragging it closer to your bed. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do when someone asks how you got here, seeing as only I signed in, but that’s your problem.” 

You bite down on a smile. Padfoot seems unconcerned by your boyfriend’s threats; you understand why. Though Remus talks stern, you both know he’ll step in with a lie if anyone actually does question how Sirius got into your room. 

Remus sees your poor attempts at concealing your amusement and tsks, his own lips curving. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” 

“I’m okay,” you answer honestly. You don’t feel your best, but you certainly don’t feel like someone who needs to be in a hospital. “Ready to go home.” 

“I’m sure it won’t be much longer,” he says. “They’ll likely just want to make sure you’re still recovering well before letting you go.” 

Remus is sitting close enough to reach you. His hand has begun rubbing your side soothingly; from your thigh, over the hill of your hip, to your waist and back again. It’s a fond, absentminded kind of touching. Petting you as you’re petting Padfoot. 

“How was your night?” he asks. 

You shrug feebly. “Okay.” You feel a humiliating need for his attention, and though your dignity puts up a fight the truth yanks its way out of you. “Lonely.” 

Padfoot makes a low whining noise, pushing his snout against your hand. Remus’ pitying expression suggests they’re in agreement for the first time today. 

“It was fine,” you say in a soft voice. Appease Padfoot by scratching under his chin. 

Remus’ thumb strokes over your hip. “Did you get much sleep?” 

“Some.” 

“Yeah?” 

You’re quiet, shrugging again. 

He gives you a soft look. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look rather tired.” 

Padfoot’s head whips around so fast, you nearly jump out of the bed in alarm. 

“I said not to take it the wrong way,” Remus defends himself. 

Padfoot makes a grunt-like warning noise. Not quite a bark, but almost. 

Remus looks at you beseechingly. “Sweetheart, you know what I mean. You look lovely, of course you do, it’s only—” 

“Yeah.” You put him out of his misery, stroking Padfoot pacifyingly as you suppress a smile. “No, I know, I didn’t get much sleep. It’s just never really quiet here. And nurses kept coming in.” 

Remus breathes out, a mixture of relief and sympathy. “Maybe you’ll be able to have a nap when we get home,” he suggests. 

The mere prospect makes your chest ache with longing. “That sounds really nice.” 

“You didn’t have much problem napping here yesterday, though I suppose there may have still been some medicine in you then. That, and you had more of the bed to yourself.” He cuts a meaningful look to the dog currently lying beside you. 

Padfoot’s head tilts in innocent confusion.

“Yes, you. Visiting hours have started, you can sit in a chair like everyone else now.” 

It seems almost like the dog rolls his eyes, but then he’s transforming. Padfoot is a big dog, but Sirius is bigger still, nearly falling off the bed but for the hand Remus sets on his back to keep him from it. Remus looks appalled. 

“Fuck’s sake, Sirius, I meant you could change back in the loo or something! Do you even have any clothes?” 

“Oh, simmer down.” Sirius’ voice is smooth, untroubled. “I think she rather likes having a bed companion, don’t you, darling?” 

A blazing heat has risen to your cheeks at your boyfriend’s sudden nudity. “I haven’t minded sharing.” 

He grins. “I thought you might enjoy the company. And it was a long night for us without you, too, you know.” The kiss he places on your lips is sweet. 

“Sirius.” Remus is beginning to look rather distressed, one eye on the door. 

“I appreciate you coming to see me,” you tell Sirius, “but I think you need to get dressed now.” 

“Hear that? She appreciates me.” He looks over his shoulder at Remus, who appears unamused. Sirius rolls out of your bed. “Alright, fine, I stowed some clothes here last night. Here it is, see?” He pulls a small shopping bag from beneath your bed, standing to kiss Remus before patting him on the cheek. “Mind the door for me, would you, handsome? I’ll just be a moment.”

[sourdeers]

☰ ❝ONE CONDITION❞

— content warning: third year! reader & katsuki. profanity. lower case intended. katsuki has hearing aids. bakugou parents mentioned. alcohol consumption - not by reader or katsuki. minor angst. — word count ﹕ 1,497

“what do you want?”

katsuki has an attitude. his face is pulled into a pretty scowl, brows furrowed just the slightest bit, and his voice has a certain . . . edge to it. you disregard his attitude and smile widely. “katsuki! just the guy i was looking for.”

he blinks at you for a moment, then narrows his eyes. “you’re at my dorm.” another blink, a shake of his head. “whatever. what do you want?”

you push past him into his room, ignoring the grunt of annoyance that he gives you, and sit down on his desk chair. this is a normal occurrence—you barging into his room and talking his ear off. since second year, when you were officially adopted into what denki calls “the baku-squad,” his room has become one of your favorite places to be. 

unlike denki’s messy room, and mina’s completely cluttered room, katsuki’s room is clean, cozy, and neat. there’s a few posters on the wall, two of all might and one of katsuki’s favorite band. he absolutely never has the big light on, always opting for the lamp in the corner of his room that gives off an orange-ish hue. 

“i have a problem,” you state simply. he swings the door shut and walks to his bed—you take that as a sign to keep talking. “so, there’s that test in present mic’s coming up and—”

“no.” he lays down on his bed, resting the back of his head against the wall, and pulls out his phone.

“you didn’t even let me finish my sentence!”

“you want me to help you study.” he grumbles, eyes briefly flicking over to meet your own. “and i said no. go ask mina or shittyhair, or something.”

now it’s your turn to blink. because, while you love them both so very dearly, you and katsuki both know that they aren’t the brightest when it comes to grammar.

“please!” you exclaim, standing quickly and walking to the side of his bed. you sit down and feel your weight making a dip. “i am literally desperate, katsuki. like, name anything and i’ll do it. you want me to do your laundry? done. want me to make dinner for a week? i can’t promise it will be good, but that’s fine. want me to . . . to . . . i don’t know, beat the shit out of somebody? done!”

he looks up from his phone now, a smile on his face. a terrifying, creepy, mischievous grin. you narrow your eyes slightly. “anything?” he repeats.

you swallow hard. “with- within reason, of course.”

“alright, y/n.” he pushes himself up into an upright position, discarding his phone off to the side. “i’ll help you study for mic’s test. on one condition.”

—

“this is . . . not what i had in mind when you ‘one condition,’ katsuki.”

he clicks his tongue and turns to you, now facing away from the mirror. “what did you think i was gonna ask for? don’t got nothing for you to do that i can’t do myself.” his hands are messily fumbling with his tie, the same scowl from earlier plastered on his face. “are you gonna help me with this damn thing, or are you just going to stand there and gawk at me?”

you flush. because, yes, you were gawking, but there’s no reason for him to know that. “i was not gawking at you, just wondering how you have fashion designers for parents and don’t know how to properly tie a tie.” you roll your eyes, but walk over to him, fingers shaking as they reach for the red fabric around his neck. “i can’t even believe you come to these types of things. didn’t think you’d be into dinner parties.”

he doesn’t answer immediately, but you can feel his gaze in your face. you refuse to meet his eyes, not when you’re this close to him. 

there’s always been . . . something between you and katsuki. he’s always been nicer to you—well, as nice as katsuki can get, at least. ”accidentally” making extra of your favorite food; movie night, when he kicks kirishima off the couch so you don’t have to sit on the floor; texting you first, rather than never responding to your texts like he does to the rest of your guys’ friends.

you’ve noticed it, of course. how could you not? you notice him staring when he thinks he’s being discreet. you’ve noticed the small, barely there smiles that he gives you when you’re talking to him about something random.

“we’re going to be late,” you say, hands dropping to your side awkwardly. you take a step back, eyes still glued to the tie. “it’s fixed. come on, let's get out there before your mom kills us.”

you turn before he can say anything else. 

you can hear everyone before you even open the door. but once you do, the sound is almost magnified. you turn back to katsuki with narrowed eyes. “do not turn your hearing aids off during this dinner, or i will strangle you.”

he rolls his eyes and sighs heavily. “i won’t. i think my mom would kick my ass harder than you would.”

“oh, please,” you roll your eyes as you make your way down the hallway.

the party is . . . fine. it’s mostly adults—older women who work with mitsuki, accompanied by their husbands. a few of the men there work alongside masaru, as well. you’re not really sure why katsuki had to come, or why you both had to dress up so fancy, but you don’t ask him about it.

there are a few awkward moments when the said older women ask you two how long you’ve been together, or if you’re thinking about marriage and kids yet, but katsuki takes it like a pro.

“we’re not together,” he says, more than once.

“she’s not my girlfriend,” he says through gritted teeth, more than once.

“we’re friends.” he rolls his eyes and sends you a pleading look.

each time, it’s another stab to your heart. you’re well aware that katsuki does not have girlfriends. he has friends and he has school and he has being a pro-hero and, for him, that’s enough.

even when he invites you to a dinner party with his parents and their co-workers.

by the end of the night, your stomach is full, your head hurts, and you need probably ten hours of sleep to be caught up.

“that was . . .” you trail off, staring down at your heels as they click against the concrete. “i did not realize your parents were that big into parties. they go hard, huh?”

he huffs out a laugh, but it sounds more like a scoff. it always does. “yeah, it’s fuckin’ ridiculous. one glass of wine and the hag goes off the rails.”

you snicker, shoving his shoulder with your own. “how many times do i have to tell you not to call her that?” you playfully scowl, shaking your head. “your mother is a very nice woman.”

he stops in his tracks, and you do the same. his brows furrow and he jerks a thumb in the direction of his house. “my mother? bakugou mitsuki? are you sure we met the same person in there? blonde, loud, an asshole. sounding familiar?”

“very,” you hum, a small smile on your face.

“that is so not funny, y/n.”

he jogs back up to you just as you reach your car. “well,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “that was . . . i won’t say fun, but i had an okay time. thanks for inviting me.”

“i didn’t really invite you. you kind of had to come.” he shrugs too, shoving his hands in his pockets. “but, uh, thanks. for coming, i mean. i didn’t want to do that by myself.”

“no problem, kats.” 

there’s a silence that falls over you two, like you both want to say something but won’t—or can’t. he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again.

“i should probably go home,” you mumble, eyes drifting to your car. “my mom said be home by eleven.”

“right.” he nods once. you reach for your door handle, but he clears his throat and you freeze. “uh, hold on.” you turn to look at him again, head tilted. “my parents are doing another one of these things next weekend,” he explains, scratching the back of his neck. “do you wanna, uh, come?”

it’s not a confession. it’s not him asking you out on a date. hell, it’s not even him showing any interest towards you. but . . . your heart thumps in your chest and the smile that stretches across your face is almost involuntary.

“eat masaru’s food and gossip with drunk older women?” you ask, resting a hand on your hip. “count me in.” he starts to snicker, but you hold up a finger. “on one condition.”

the groan that leaves his mouth is the funniest thing that night.

and the smile on his face as you drive away is the prettiest goddamn thing you’ve ever seen. 

[invincibledc]

OMG I NEED MORE JACK QUINN IM GNAWING AT MY CAGES AHHH ONESHOTS, STORY, KIDNAPPED TROPE ANYTHING AHHHG

۶ৎ𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐧’ 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫

────୨ৎ────

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐎!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

ᯓ★ Synopsis: it’s sweet when he cares for you, and then it’s sour when he wants to be funny.

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff oneshot

ᯓ★ Info: this OC is an OC I’m written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. I got bored. Reader is the twin brother of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome.

ᯓ★ Word count: 826

It was a dark and stormy night, and you were dressed in matching slick pajamas while Jack wore grey sweatpants and a white shirt. You were at his condo, a refuge for him away from his father, The Joker. Or just from the world itself.

He sat entranced by the TV, oblivious to your approach with a bowl of popcorn. His blonde hair was damp, clinging to his forehead, and his blue eyes were lost in thought.

“Jack?” you called, breaking through his distraction. A smile instantly appeared on his face as you took a seat beside him, placing the popcorn on your lap. “Yeah, puddin'?” he responded in his raspy voice. But you shot him a look, one that immediately wiped the grin off his face.

“You’re not fine,” you stated firmly. “Just because you're the Joker's son doesn’t mean you have to be like him.” Your tone was soft yet resolute, and he leaned into your fingers as you brushed through his hair.

“Of course, baby…” he replied, his eyes softening with sincerity. You could see the love in his gaze as he pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Your thighs pressed firmly together as you locked eyes with Jack, exuding confidence. He leaned in and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

“Alright, what movie are we watching this time?” he asked, diverting his attention to the bowl of buttery popcorn.

“I’ve picked The Exorcist. It’s the perfect choice for a dark and stormy night,” you declared confidently, wearing an assertive smile. Jack couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re so cute, baby.” As you got off his lap, he started playing the movie you selected. You settled next to him with the popcorn bowl in your lap. The movie began, and Jack rested his head on yours, his hand securely on your waist as he took a generous handful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth.

When it gets to the part of Regan spider walking down the stairs with blood in her mouth, you can't help but cringe. In fear, of course, it was so scary, a spider walking down the stairs, blood dripping from her mouth.

Jack noticed this, inside he was smirking, realizing this was such a good boyfriend moment. On the outside, he frowns, pushing your head into his neck.

There you smelt his woody scent, you also felt his breathing pattern. “It's okay baby, I'm here,” he says softly, his natural hoarse voice soothing you.

Throughout the movie, you were relaxed against the blonde-haired male, as he was your protector from the scares of the movie. Finally, it was midnight, Jack yawned, stretching his arms whilst looking at you.

“You good, babe?” he asked, noticing your calm demeanor, even though he knew your feelings about horror movies despite being the one to choose them.

“I’m completely fine,” you replied confidently. Jack raised an eyebrow and stood up from the couch, prompting you to look at him directly.

With his hair finally dry, he added, “If you say so, I’ll be in bed waiting for you. Just wash the bowl, alright, love?” His tone was soft yet firm. Nodding, you stood up and walked to the kitchen, hearing his footsteps as he headed upstairs.

You prepared to wash the bowl, filling it with soup and warm water while scrubbing away the remnants of butter. You hummed a soft tune, deliberately ignoring the rain tapping against the window of the condo.

The room was dimly lit by the moonlight, creating a surprisingly relaxing atmosphere despite everything else. Once you finished with the bowl and dried your hands, you made your way to the stairs.

As you approached the bedroom, you halted, noticing the door was ajar. Jack wasn’t fond of closed doors—or even slightly open ones. You raised an eyebrow and approached the door cautiously, calling out his name with a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Jack?” you said softly, pushing the door open. The bed was untouched, and your heart raced as you scanned the room, anxiety creeping in.

“Jack?!” you exclaimed, ready to turn and run when suddenly, Jack popped up.

“Boo!” he exclaimed, catching you completely off guard.

You didn't even scream, you punched him in his face on instinct, even flipping him onto his back. Your killer instinct ended before you could kick his head in, he yells for mercy with a slightly scared but amused face.

“Babe! It's me! Calm down puddin'.” he says. You scoffed and got off him. “Jack. That wasn't funny.” Jack couldn't help but laugh, standing up and dusting himself off.

“Sorry sorry, but you lied about being fine. You can't even handle scary movies,” he says, going to hug you, but you swiftly move from him.

“Nah uh. Nope, you’re sleeping on the couch,” you said firmly and laid in the bed, ignoring the kicked puppy face from Jack who whined.

“Noooo cmonnn…”

“Nope.”

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

can u pleasee write mean jason todd feeling bad for making reader tear up , and he tries to make it up to her in his own weird way

Save Your Tears for Another Day

Mean!Jason Todd x Reader

Guys, hate to say it, but it's probably been 6 months since I got this ask. I'm so sorry to everybody who's sent in requests that I haven't gotten to😭

Jason Todd was not a nice person.

Not to you, not to anyone.

You’d known that from the start. You knew it when he barely spoke to you outside of the bedroom. When he never asked how your day was, never let you too close, never kissed you unless it was for something more.

You weren’t dating. That wasn’t what this was.

Still, sometimes he let little things slip. A hand lingering on your waist a second too long. A gruff “Be careful” when you left his place late at night. The way he always, always came back.

It was enough to keep you around.

Until tonight.

Because tonight, Jason made you cry.

And you weren’t sure you could forgive him for it.

It started with a scar.

You were in his apartment, lying on his bed in nothing but one of his old shirts, tracing idle patterns across his chest. He let you, eyes closed, arm slung lazily over his forehead.

Your fingers ghosted over a raised line of skin, just below his ribs. One you hadn’t noticed before.

“Where’d this one come from?” you asked softly.

Jason cracked an eye open, glancing down. He barely spared it a second before shrugging. “Don’t remember.”

You frowned. “It’s pretty big.”

He yawned. “They all blend together after a while.”

You traced the scar again, a little more deliberately. “Do any of them bother you?”

Jason huffed, shifting away from your touch. “Jesus, what is this, twenty questions?”

You froze. “I was just asking.”

“Well, don’t.” His voice was sharper now, that familiar edge creeping in. “You wanna screw around? Fine. But don’t go getting all sentimental on me.”

You swallowed hard, pulling your hand back. “I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, you were.” He sat up, running a hand through his hair. “You always do this. Act like there’s something here when there’s not.”

Something in your chest twisted.

Jason must have noticed, because he sighed and pushed himself off the bed. “I don’t need you digging through my past like some therapist. Just drop it.”

He left the room without another word, and you sat there, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes.

It wasn’t the words themselves that hurt. It was the way he said them—like the very idea of you caring was a burden. Like you meant nothing to him.Maybe you didn’t.

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to breathe. You wouldn’t cry over Jason Todd. You wouldn’t. But that night, when you left his place and walked home alone, you did.

Jason knew he’d fucked up before you even left.

He hadn’t meant to snap. It just… happened. The moment you started asking about his scars, something inside him twisted, pulling tight. You didn’t get it. What it was like to die, to come back, to carry every wound like a reminder of the boy he used to be. And you—soft, warm, good—you had no place in any of it.

That’s what he told himself.

But when he heard the front door click shut, something ugly settled in his stomach. You always stayed the night.

Not this time.

Jason spent the next day trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest. He went out on patrol, cracked a few skulls, kept moving. But even when he was standing over some lowlife, breathing hard, knuckles bloody, all he could think about was the look on your face before you left. By the time he got back to his apartment, it was nearly three in the morning. He hesitated, then grabbed his phone.

Still mad?

The message sat unread. Jason scowled, tossing the phone onto the couch. He wasn’t good at this. At fixing things. At people. So he did what he always did when he needed answers. He found Roy.

“You what?” Roy blinked at him, halfway through a beer.

Jason sighed. “I made her cry.”

Roy let out a low whistle, setting his drink down. “Damn. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Not helping.”

“I am helping. I’m making you feel worse so you’ll actually fix it.”

Jason glared. “You’re about to feel worse when I put you through a wall.”

Roy smirked, but then his expression softened. “Alright, man. What happened?”

Jason exhaled sharply. “She started asking about my scars, and I… snapped.”

Roy tilted his head. “Did she ask in a pushy way?”

Jason hesitated. “…No.”

“Did she try to make it about herself?”

“No.”

Roy leaned back. “Then why’d you lose it?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, okay? It’s just—” He clenched his jaw. “It’s easier when she doesn’t care.”

Roy studied him for a long moment, then shook his head with a small, knowing smile.

“She does care, Jay. That’s the whole point.”

Jason didn’t reply.

Roy sighed. “Look, you can either keep pushing her away until she stops trying, or you can stop being a dumbass and make it up to her.”

Jason scowled. “Yeah? And how do I do that?”

Roy smirked. “You figure it out.”

Two days later, there was a knock at your door.

You opened it to find Jason standing there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Hey,” he said gruffly.

You crossed your arms. “Hey.”

He shifted his weight. “Can I come in?”

You considered slamming the door in his face. Instead, you stepped aside.

Jason walked in, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes scanning your apartment like he’d never seen it before.

Silence stretched between you.

Finally, he exhaled hard. “I shouldn’t have said that shit the other night.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Which part? The part where you told me to drop it, or the part where you basically said I was imagining things between us?”

Jason winced. “Both.”

You didn’t let up. “And do you actually mean that, or did Roy bully you into coming here?”

His jaw tightened. “Roy made me realize I was being an asshole. Coming here was my own choice.”

You studied him, searching for any sign of insincerity.

Jason sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t do… feelings. Not well. And when you started asking about my scars, I panicked. I pushed you away because—” He hesitated, like the words were caught in his throat.

You swallowed. “Because what?”

His gaze met yours, sharp and unguarded. “Because I don’t want you to care about me.”

Your breath caught.

Jason let out a humorless laugh. “Because if you care, it means I can lose you. And I’ve lost enough people already.”

Something in your chest cracked open.

Jason wasn’t heartless. He wasn’t cruel. He was just… scared.

You took a slow step forward. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He searched your face like he didn’t quite believe it. “For now.”

“For as long as you let me,” you corrected softly.

Jason exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders. Then, hesitantly, he reached for your hand, rough fingers curling around yours.

It wasn’t an apology, not exactly. And it wasn't him asking you to be something more than just a recurring fling, either.

But it was something.

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