#my fingers have been itching to make this

[scap34]

No one touches what’s yours ♡

sub! sugar baby! Toji x sadistic! rich! dom! younger! male! reader

warnings: cussing, mild daddy kink, oral sex, dirty talk, degradation, implied sex, mild manipulation, mention of murder

Another shitty gala. What was this one for? A charity? Who even cared? If half the money wasted on flaunting wealth actually went to the cause, he was pretty sure there wouldn’t even be a need for charity anymore.

Instead, it was just another popularity contest. And lucky him, you happened to be the star of the show—the hot, rich jock everyone loved to worship.

What did that make him? Your cheerleader? 

Toji scowled as he downed the wine in his glass. Expensive, yet it tasted like shit. He’d already had three in the last half hour, and the buzz was barely there—a waste of both time and money.

But that wasn’t what bothered him. It was all the eyes on you. The overly flattering tone, and greedy eyes people looked at you with. His fingers itched for his blade. To paint the shiny white floor red with their blood. 

You were his. So why the hell were people so fucking close to you?

Then your cold gaze met his, and for a moment, that disinterested look melted into faint amusement. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him, leaving behind a trail of disappointed murmurs and bitter faces, none daring to voice their complaints aloud. 

Toji stayed rooted in place, arms crossed, waiting for you to come to him. When you finally did, he didn’t bother hiding his irritation. “Why the hell did you drag me to this?” he grumbled, his tone bordering on petulant—not that he’d ever admit it outright.

You had the audacity to chuckle, a soft, amused sound that only annoyed him more. “I didn’t.” You replied smoothly. “I told you, you wouldn't like it, but you insisted on coming anyway.”

Did he say that? Yes. 

Did he care? No.

“What was I supposed to do? Sit around at home like some miserable housewife?” He snapped back. 

You didn’t respond immediately, but the gleam in your eyes said everything. It was that look—the one you got right before one of your ideas. The kind that left him sore in all the right places and utterly, blissfully wrecked. 

Was it the housewife comment? Fuck, would you care about fucking him here? 

“Yeah, baby? Need your husband to make you happy?” you practically purred, your voice low and husky, dripping with amusement.

The tone alone had him shifting in place, a rush of heat racing down his body. Damn tux was too tight, but he knew better than to blame it on the suit. Knowing you, the control freak you were, you’d probably had it tailored perfectly to his measurements ages ago. Made perfectly to hug every curve of his body, all on display for your eyes.

Getting a fucking boner right now would like public exposure. 

You must have been rubbing off on him, cause the thought only served to make him more aroused.

“Y/N! What a delight to see you here!”

Your eyes shifted lazily from Toji to the man approaching, your expression unreadable. He was in his late forties, with hair that was clearly dyed to hide the gray creeping in—an attempt to cling to his youth. Everything about him screamed smug, from his tailored suit to the self-assured smirk plastered across his face.

The man practically radiated envy as he took you in. Of course he did. You were everything he wasn’t—young, rich, and devastatingly handsome. Flawless in a way that made people resent you the moment you walked into a room. And you were all his. 

“I wasn’t planning on coming,” he said, voice dripping with fake humility, “but luckily, I managed to find a spot in my schedule. I’m sure you didn’t have that problem. After all, you always attend these things, don’t you?”

He spoke loud enough for others nearby to hear, as if trying to gain some kind of upper hand in the conversation. 

You didn’t look fazed by it. The coldness in your eyes was sharp, daunting even as your lips curled into a fake, practiced smile.

“Isn’t it customary for the host to attend their own gala?” Your words were curt and polite to the point of biting cold. Throwing his words right back at him with chilling precision. 

Toji could almost hear the man’s teeth grind together in outrage at being one upped in the rich people dick measuring contest. Not that you were playing along. You didn’t need to. He could attest to how big your dick was. 

He let out a huff of laughter. The man’s eyes landed on him. The annoyance in his eyes shifted to interest as he took in Toji’s body. The tux, obviously not doing anything to hide his body. 

If this had happened anywhere else, he would’ve beaten the shit out of him. But this was your fancy gala, surrounded by those rich assholes who eyed your wealth like pesky flies. He wasn’t stupid enough to mess up your business. You’d be pissed at him, and not in a good way.

“And who is this? Your date?” The man’s slimy gazed trailed down his body. Toji had to resist the urge to shove a wine glass into his throat. 

“Yes. This is Toji.” You replied seemingly unbothered but he could see the way annoyance crept into your eyes. The way you shifted slightly closer to him. You didn’t bother introducing the man to him like you couldn’t bother with it. 

Toji bit down on his tongue, fighting the smug smile that threatened to tug at his lips. The man wasn’t important? Good, he didn’t want to play nice anyway. Toji’s eyes didn’t leave you. 

Fuck. He didn’t think you could get hotter. But you were hell bent on proving him wrong weren’t you? 

The confident, uninterested attitude of your that pissed everyone off was such a fucking turn on. Why the hell were you so hot? 

Your eyes met Toji’s heated look. Your eyes rovered down his body, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. “My sugar baby.” You added on as an afterthought. 

He hated you. You knew exactly what you were doing to him. That confident smug gleam in your eyes. You sipped your wine with a smug smile. 

Damn you. You had fucked him before coming here. So why was he getting horny again? He got less boners as a teenager during puberty. 

“Then do you mind if I have a taste? What’s a bit of sharing between business partners?” The man’s slimy voice cut between the tension. 

Your smile disappeared in a flash. Before he could react, you had an arm around his waist. A possessive hand pulling him to you. Half his body pressed against your warmth.

“He’s not a toy.” You half snarled the polite facade in your face slipping. Your arm wrapped around Toji’s waist, a possessive gesture. 

Toji’s mind short circuited at the firm possessive touch. All he could hear was his heart thumping in his chest, and feel your firm muscles against his. Your fingers felt like a brand, marking him, claiming him as yours. 

He knew he was yours. But this just cemented it. It wasn’t something that had been there but never acknowledged anymore. It was real. He was yours. And you were his. 

He barely remembered anything past the man paleing at the thunderous look on your face. Stuttering half apologies even as his face burned with embarrassment and anger. Leaving as soon as possible. 

Toji didn’t give a fuck about him anymore. 

The innocent touch of your hand on his waist, made heat pool in his stomach. Your gesture was possessive, and demanding. He loved it. 

Despite the fact that he could have easily defended himself, or even killed that scumbag, this was better. You defending him with possessive anger burning in your eyes. A scowl on your lips as you protect him. This was so much better. 

He didn’t even notice when you led him out the hall. Only when your eyes met his, did he kiss you. Pushing you up against the wall, body grinding against yours. 

His lips pressed against yours, hungry for more. You easily took back control, after your initial surprise. Kissing back ruthlessly, plundering Toji’s mouth. Fucking his mouth with your tongue. 

He pulled away panting softly, and leaned his body against yours. The hard line of his erection pressing against your thighs. He resisted the urge to grind against you. 

You recovered quickly, a sadistic smile spreading on your lips. “Hard from a kiss, baby?” You cooed, your hand moving to cup his clothed cock. Your thumb flicked the head of his cock. The movement had him moaning, expensive fabric rubbing against his sensitive head in delicious ecstasy 

“It’s your fault.” He whined, shifting his body to hump your thigh, more dog in heat than an experienced killer. Need burned in his body like a drug. He wanted you. Wanted your cock in his hole, taking what was yours. Making him yours inside and out. 

“What a needy slut.” Your eyes were dark, all consuming. He wanted you so fucking bad. He humped against your thigh, pants falling for his kiss swollen lips. “Need to be fucked that bad?”

“Yes,” he practically whined. The thought of your cock had him salivating. His hips rolling against yours. You didn’t even look bothered, the dark look in your eyes only gave it away. 

“My needy cock whore,” you cooed lowly, your tone anything but sweet. “Don’t worry, daddy will fuck you good.” The nickname and the way your fingers squeezed his ass, had him melting into your arms like putty. 

“Mhmm yes please.”

…

“Who was that guy anyway?” He asked suddenly, a few days after the gala. You looked over at him, your fingers paused typing. All your attention on him, he almost wanted to change the topic, just so your focus stayed on him.  

A live horse race played on the tv. Like a typical day, you spent your time working near him, like the possessive asshole you were.

“What guy?” 

“That asshole who tried to hit on me.” He said vaguely unsure how to describe him. All he could remember was getting fucking into the sheets. Your voice muttering praises into his ear each time you started a new round. 

“Him? Don’t worry about it. I got rid of him.” You said turning back to typing on your computer. He blinked at you incedulously. That was it?

You got rid of him? 

“What,” his throat felt dry, he licked his lips. “Did you do?” He didn’t even know what he was expecting to hear. 

You didn’t even look away from your laptop to answer. “Exposed a few scandals and destroyed his company. His reputation and business are gone now.” You retorted coldly, working on your laptop.

He blinked at you, dazed, bewildered by your words. He knew you were cruel. The words tycoon most commonly used with you. You had to be cruel to make it to the top at such a young age. He knew that too. But it felt different experiencing it firsthand. You’d destroyed someone’s business and reputation for him.

He didn’t want to bring up that he could take care of himself. That he was the sorcerer killer. A weak human was nothing to him. He’d been taunted all his life for being the black sheep of the Zen’in family. For running away. For all the money he lost gambling. 

But you were different. You were a bastard. He knew that. You’d humiliate him. Push his body to the limit. But you’d also caress his cheeks and praise him. He was yours and you found nothing wrong with him. You were an oddity he didn’t mind.

He tugged your computer away from you. You let him, looking a bit bemused. He gently placed it on the table and straddled your thighs, his knees on either side of you.

His hard cock pressed against yours. You looked up at him with a raised brow. Your hands wrapped around his waist, rubbing circles. He grinded down on your cock, making your breath hitch, eyes darkening with lust. 

“Toji? What are you doing?” You asked huskily. Your hands encouraged his hips as he grinded down. Your cock rapidly growing harder. 

“Nothing,” he replied mischievously. His hands ran up his thigh, and disappeared under his shirt. Under your hungry gaze he played with his chest. Moaning when he pinched his dusty pink nipple, the pain mixed with pleasure.

“Yeah? How about I give you something to do then baby?” you muttered huskily. Your hands held his hips as you smirked. “Why don’t you suck my cock, baby?” 

His grinding nearly stopped if it wasn’t for your hands moving his hips, in slow circles. His cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment. 

Suck your dick? He’d never done that before. But he couldn't help but want it. The idea made him harder. 

You could see his reluctance and palmed his clothed cock. “Be a good boy, Toji and suck me off.” He flushed darker, at your blunt words. His cock strained against his flimy pants, pre-cum smeared onto it. 

He nodded weakly. There wasn’t any chance he’d refuse anyway. He was weak for you.

…

“I can’t,” he sobbed, around your cock. The sound sent bolts of pleasure. Red marks on your thighs, where your baby dug his fingers in too hard. The pain barely registered to you. Not when the pleasure was so strong. 

You held back a smirk and frowned. “Already baby? I haven’t even cum yet.” Toji let out another frustrated sob. The sound reverberated through you making you bite back a groan.

“Please please ple’se can’t,” he begged, rubbing his cheek against your cock like a puppy. Like it would make you give in. You wouldn’t say it’s Toji’s fault for not making you cum. That was all you. Making him take a dildo as he sucked you off. You conveniently forget to tell it was also a vibrator. He’d came immediately when the vibrations started. And again when you increased it. 

The view didn’t help you. Fat pecs bouncing with each movement, trembling thighs parted lewdly, showing off his useless cock. His own cum staining his thighs messily. You had half a mind to turn him around so you can see the way his hole took the toy. 

But then you’d miss the dumb slutty look on his face. The fucked dumb look on your baby’s face. Cheeks flushed red, tears clinging to his lashes too stubborn to fall, lips bitten red and swollen, expression scrunched in pleasure and overstimulation. 

His pretty lips stretched obscenely around your cock. Messily sucking your dick, licking it like a pathetic kitten. The sight of his face could make you cum but you were holding out. After all, you had a goal in mind. 

“Come on Toji. You’re really going to leave me hanging?” You usually never called him by his name during sex. Your baby caught on. His hands clenched tighter and he tried to please you. Messy and sloppy. You loved it. 

“Ple’se t’rn it off,” he pleaded looking at you with desperate tear filled eyes. It just made you want to shove your cock back into his mouth and fuck his throat till his voice was hoarse. 

“Make me cum first, baby.” You replied like that other times he asked. He let out a choked sob, body trembling when you turned up the vibrations. Desperate and wreaked was the best look on your baby. 

“That needy, baby?” You can see the conflict in his eyes, all his previous confidence thrown out. Only a hazy of need and wanting to please in his eyes. He nodded lips around the head of your cock. 

“I’m going to fuck your throat then baby. Can you take it for me like a good slut?” He shivered from your words and nodded quickly. Opening his mouth obediently. 

You smirked. “Use your words baby.” He flashed a pretty red. 

“Ple’se, fuck my throat,” he pleaded weakly voice a bit hoarse. 

“As you wish, baby.” You smirked, your hands holding his hair a bit roughly. He barely winched, his cock twitching with interest. 

You had to hold back a grin as you pressed your cock into your baby’s mouth. He didn’t even gag. The perfect cock slut. You let out a groan and started to face fuck him. 

Toji barely protested, his moans sending heat pooling. Within minutes you finished onto your baby’s tongue. Toji obediently swallowed it. Hazy adoring eyes meeting yours, begging for praise. 

You chuckled and wiped your cum off his lips. “Good boy.” Your perfect baby. 

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 3

(Part 1 | Part 2)

I had jacked in. Unauthorized. Unbidden.

When I finally disconnected from Morrigan's tender embrace, the reality of my situation had come slamming into me.

I had used my access to a multi billion dollar war machine for my own personal ends. I had risked my job, my career, my fucking life maybe... and for what? A bad dream?

I returned to my quarters, mechanically showered and ate breakfast and reported to my station, all but certain that security would arrive at any minute to quietly escort me out of the facility to a hole somewhere no one would ever see me again.

But they never came.

Despite the anomalous access logs, they never came.

Burning the midnight oil? one of the techs had asked jokingly.

Fuck.

They all fucking knew I had been there, but it never crossed any of their minds what I was really doing.

Once that initial panic abated, a whole new kind of terror set in.

Command might be fooled. Security and the techs might be fooled. But there's one person who knows. There's one other person who has the kind of access to Morrigan that I do.

Fuck fuck fuck.

No. She doesn't have the same access I do. I'm the fucking interloper here. It's her fucking machine. She has deeper access than I ever could. Morrigan was tailor made for her pilot. All the while, the pilot was broken and remade to forge connections I could only ever dream of. They're two halves of a whole. They can't hide anything from each other even if they wanted to.

It takes three days before the moment I have been dreading finally crystallizes into sharp reality.

I sit alone in a corner of the cafeteria, as I always do. I poke listlessly at something that I think is supposed to be fruit cocktail. I have read the same paragraph on my datapad three times already. I have just started on my fourth attempt when a figure slides onto the bench across from me.

I know exactly who it is before I glance halfway up to see the long slender fingers, one hand tapping restlessly, the other clenching a spoon as she surveys the mess of nutrient gel that they serve pilots. The sleeves of her sweatshirt are rolled up, revealing the skinsuit over skeletal arms.

I can't bring myself to do more than that quick glance at her hands.

I remember those piercing ice blue eyes… jesus fuck, it's only been three weeks since that moment we passed in the access corridor, when those eyes had pinned me in place.

I imagine those eyes boring into me now.

I know she's been to see Morrigan. The two of them had a training sim yesterday. They have another one in a couple of hours.

Her spoon scrapes against the cheap plastic of the bowl. The nutrient paste makes a sickening wet sound as it rises.

I am frozen in place. I can't leave. I can't read my datapad. I can't even pretend to eat any more.

The thing they never reveal in the propaganda vids is just how frail pilots are. The training, the conditioning, the hours and hours jacked into the machine being pumped full of a cocktail of artificial stress and reward hormones, they all ravage the body. The figure seated across from me can't be more than half my weight. In a stand up fight, I could probably break her in half.

I'm fucking terrified of her. I can barely breath as she takes another spoonful of gel.

The skin around the ports on my rig itch. Like my rig itself knows how inadequate it is in comparison to hers.

The spoon comes to rest on the tray alongside her bowl. She says nothing. Even in silence, she's a creature of action, unable to remain still. Her leg bounces just slightly. Her fingers tap out a complicated rhythm.

I force myself to look up, to meet her gaze.

The eyes are sharp. Sharper and clearer than I remembered when they wheeled her past me. But it is that same intensity that I remember.

She isn't smiling. She isn't frowning either. Her expression isn't doing much of anything, like she's forgotten how to express like a human being. Beneath the restless energy, she looks tired, all sunken cheeks and shadowed eyes, with a sickly pallor to her skin.

She looks like a pilot. If I hadn't broken, if I hadn't washed out, it is what I would have looked like.

An image flashes through my mind unbidden. I see us swapped. Me: hard, broken, tired. Her: soft, muscular, healthy… lonely.

The feeling washes over me, that horrible familiar, desperate loneliness.

She twitches, head cocking slightly as she sees something in my expression.

Oh… oh fuck.

She knows.

I had been so fucking scared of being caught out that I never considered how much had actually been revealed, how much of my aching soul left its mark in that cockpit like so many greasy fingerprints.

I have dreamed Morrigan's dreams. I have caught myself humming snatches of her song.

Neural bleed.

It always comes back to fucking neural bleed. Limited as my rig is, Morrigan has been in my head just as I have been in hers… and Morrigan is half of a whole.

The woman sitting across from me doesn't just recognize my face, she has seen the very core of me.

I let out a ragged breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding.

When she finally does speak, her voice is husky murmur, hoarse from disuse.

“We should talk,” she says.

I nod weakly.

[loveesiren]

𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 (𝖯𝗍. 4)

Thanos x american!reader | Forever Masterlist

a/n: This is the final part of Forever! Or atleast the main part :) I'll still be writing for these two so let me know if you have any requests for them! Thanks so much for enjoying this series :)

synopsis: After everything that has happened, Y/n finally feels like she can begin to heal and move forward with her life. She is grateful for her new friends and boyfriend starring in this next chapter of her life.

warnings: language, quick smut, canon divergence, fluff :)

wc: 4.7k+

Two weeks at your grandmother’s house had been both a blessing and a test of patience. You adored your Halmeoni and were endlessly grateful for her unwavering love and hospitality, but you were beginning to feel the itch to return to your own space. She had welcomed Se-mi, Min-su, and Thanos with open arms, her joy evident in the way she doted on everyone. After losing her husband, son, and grandson, you were all she had left, and it was clear that having a full house again brought her an unexpected kind of comfort.

For Halmeoni, the bustle of activity filled a void she’d silently carried for years. She thrived on looking after her “kids,” as she called you, eagerly cooking up elaborate meals and bossing everyone around with the kind of endearing authority only a grandmother could manage. It didn’t matter that two of those “kids” were fully grown men—Min-su and Thanos followed her orders as if they were back in grade school, mostly because they loved seeing her smile.

She had set up Min-su and Thanos in the living room with makeshift beds, fluffing their pillows and insisting they eat a second helping of dinner before settling in. Thanos had gotten a free pass to share your bed the first night, but Halmeoni quickly put a stop to that.

“Not under my roof,” she’d said sternly, wagging a finger at you. “Not unless that purple-haired monster puts a ring on your finger!” Her tone was firm, but the twinkle in her eye betrayed her affection for him. The nickname stuck—“purple-haired monster”—and Thanos wore it like a badge of honor.

You and Se-mi, on the other hand, shared your childhood bedroom. It was surreal, almost like stepping into a time capsule. The walls were still painted a faded lavender, and the bookshelf held relics of your younger self—dusty paperbacks, old trophies, and trinkets you’d collected over the years. Sharing that space with Se-mi felt like a gift. Growing up, you’d never had a best friend, and now, staying up late talking about everything and nothing, you felt like you were finally making up for lost time.

The two of you would huddle under the covers, whispering secrets and playing your favorite songs on your phone, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the room. When Halmeoni finally fell asleep, you’d tiptoe out to the living room, heart pounding with the thrill of sneaking around like a teenager.

Thanos would already be awake, waiting for you with a sleepy smile. His arms opened as you slid onto the couch beside him, and for an hour or two, the world shrank down to just the two of you. Min-su’s soft snores from the other couch provided the perfect soundtrack as you whispered sweet nothings, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. Before the sun rose, you’d steal one last kiss and sneak back to your room, feeling like you’d unlocked a part of yourself you hadn’t known was missing.

But the truth was, you weren’t teenagers anymore. You were all in your twenties, and the time had come to reclaim your independence. While you cherished the warmth and care Halmeoni had lavished on you, you were ready to return to the chaos of your small, cramped apartment—a place where you could be loud, messy, and completely yourselves without judgment.

The morning of your departure was a flurry of activity. Halmeoni insisted on packing containers of leftover food, shoving them at Min-su, piling them so high in his arms he could barely see over the top. She tried one last time to convince Se-mi to take out her piercings, her voice laced with exasperation and love. And she turned her attention to Thanos, pulling him aside for a quiet word.

“You take care of her, you hear me?” she said, her hands resting firmly on his shoulders. “She’s my only treasure.”

“I will,” Thanos promised, his voice low and sincere. The two of them had developed an unlikely bond during the past two weeks, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him bending slightly to match her height, listening to her every word like a dutiful grandson.

These people were your family now—the only family you had left—and you couldn’t imagine life without them.

Your mother was arrested the night she had shown up at your grandmother's house. Not only for public intoxication but for an illegal relationship with a North Korean inmate, Nam-gyu’s father. The secrets of your family were all out in the open now and it hurt. But it also filled the void in some strange way. You finally felt like you could begin to move forward in life. 

In the week that followed, things began to shift. Min-su and Se-mi started reconnecting with their families, often spending afternoons out visiting their parents and siblings. Seeing them rediscover those relationships brought you a quiet kind of happiness, even as it left you and Thanos alone in the apartment more often.

Those afternoons with him became your favorite moments—uninterrupted hours where you could simply exist together. Whether you were lounging on the couch, cooking dinner side by side, curled up in bed talking about your dreams for the future, or tangled together in your sheets as he pulled multiple orgasms from you.

-

The moment the apartment door clicked shut, Thanos was on you, his hands gripping your waist like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. Between two agonizing weeks of stolen glances and fleeting touches at your grandmother’s house and spending days out with your friends exploring Seoul, you both had been on edge, craving each other with an intensity that bordered on madness. Now, finally alone in your tiny apartment, there was nothing to hold either of you back.

He kissed you with a hunger that made your knees weak, his lips trailing down your neck as he guided you backward toward the bed. Clothes were discarded hastily, your laughter mingling with the sound of fabric hitting the floor. By the time your bare skin pressed against the sheets, his mouth was on you again, exploring every inch of you like it was the first time.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough with desire.

His hands roamed over your body, strong and commanding yet achingly tender. He touched you like he was savoring a work of art, every brush of his fingers igniting sparks that spread through your veins. The anticipation alone was enough to make you tremble, but when he finally pushed himself inside of you, a moan escaped your lips that could have shaken the walls.

“God, I fucking love you…” he panted into your ear, his breath hot and uneven as his hips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he drove into you, his intensity stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, your nails dragging down his back as he buried himself deeper. He filled you completely, his every thrust pulling soft, desperate cries from your lips. You were losing yourself in him, the world outside the two of you dissolving into nothingness.

“I love you, Su-Bong,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked into his eyes, your heart laid bare.

Hearing his real name fall from your lips made him falter, his rhythm breaking as a deep groan escaped him. “Fuck…” he growled, the sound vibrating against your skin. The sheer intimacy of that moment pushed you both over the edge, and with one final thrust, he came undone, his body shuddering against yours.

He pressed his lips to yours in a lingering kiss before collapsing beside you, both of you panting as the sweat cooled on your skin. You turned to rest your head on his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear. His arm draped over you protectively, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your back.

For a while, the two of you lay in contented silence, the weight of the world kept at bay by the warmth of each other’s presence. Finally, he broke the quiet, his voice soft and thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about something…”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your fingers trailing over the ridges of his chest. “What’s that?”

“Well…” He hesitated, his lips curving into a small smile. “You know I have my place downtown…”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, recalling the times he’d casually mentioned it. He’d always said you, Se-mi, and Min-su were welcome there, but you’d never given it much thought. Your little apartment felt like home—a chaotic, messy, wonderful home.

“I’d love for you to come see it,” he continued cautiously. “Maybe we could even stay there. Together.”

The suggestion made your heart race, a mix of excitement and apprehension flooding your senses. You’d been living together for the past three weeks in an unspoken, unofficial way. But moving into his place downtown? That felt monumental, like crossing a line you couldn’t uncross.

“I, uh…” you started, your voice faltering. Thinking about how much loss you’d endured. What if that happened again?

Thanos watched you carefully, his gaze filled with hope and vulnerability. He wanted to give you everything—a life of comfort and joy, a place where you could be free from worry. In his mind, he saw a future filled with late nights in front of a roaring fireplace, a spacious closet for all the clothes he wanted to buy you, and lazy mornings wrapped in each other’s arms on a bed far larger than the one you currently shared.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the sound of the apartment door swinging open shattered the moment.

“Whoaaa, our bad!” Se-mi’s voice rang out, followed by her laughter. She quickly spun Min-su around, ushering him back toward the door as he muttered something about how they “really didn’t need to see that.”

Thanos groaned, yanking the covers over the two of you, while you scrambled to sit up, your face burning with embarrassment. “Let’s talk about this later…” you whispered, fumbling to find your clothes in the pile on the floor.

Thanos chuckled softly, leaning back against the headboard as he watched you with a lazy, satisfied grin. “We will,” he said, his voice a quiet promise.

Though your heart was still pounding from the interruption, part of you couldn’t help but wonder about the life he was offering. A place that was all yours, a new chapter with the man who had completely stolen your heart. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to take that leap.

-

Later that night, after dinner, the small apartment buzzed with laughter and the faint clinking of glass as Thanos and Min-su dove headfirst into a spirited debate over American football. The half-empty bottle of soju between them stood as a testament to the evening’s indulgence.

“Look, I’m just saying,” Thanos argued, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol, “the Patriots have the best legacy. You can’t argue with the stats, man.”

Min-su scoffed, leaning back dramatically. “Stats? Stats don’t mean jack shit when your team has zero soul. Cowboys all the way.”

You and Se-mi sat on the couch, clutching your sides as you tried to stifle your laughter. “I regret ever introducing them to football,” you said through giggles, shaking your head.

“It’s like watching two dads at a barbecue,” Se-mi added, wiping tears from her eyes. She stood up, grabbing another bottle of soju from the table. “Come on, let’s go to the roof. I need some air before they drag us into this.”

The roof of your building was as familiar to you as your own bedroom. It wasn’t much to look at—worn-down concrete, rusting railings, and the occasional stray chair someone had abandoned years ago. Maintenance clearly hadn’t bothered with it in ages, but that was part of its charm. It was a quiet, forgotten place, a secret retreat above the bustling streets below.

The city’s lights stretched out in every direction, casting a glow against the dark sky. You and Se-mi sat cross-legged on the cold concrete, passing the bottle of soju between you as the sounds of the city hummed softly in the distance.

Se-mi sparked a cigarette, the flicker of the lighter briefly illuminating her face. She took a drag before handing it to you and tipping the bottle to her lips. The bitter warmth of the soju was familiar, comforting in its own way.

“So,” she began, exhaling a stream of smoke that swirled into the night air, “my family’s doing really well.”

A smile spread across your face. “That’s good! I’m glad you’ve been reconnecting with them.”

“Yeah…” she said softly, her gaze fixed on the glowing end of the cigarette. She hesitated, then continued, “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Your chest tightened at her words. You already knew what was coming, but hearing it would make it real.

“Min-su and I were talking today,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “Now that we’ve been back for a while, and, you know, making amends with our families… I think it might be time we go home. At least for now.”

You took a long sip from the bottle, letting the warmth steady you as you stared up at the stars. They blinked back at you like distant reminders of how vast the world was.

“It’s just… the games made me realize so much,” Se-mi continued, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I don’t want to miss out on spending time with my family while I still can. I-I don’t want to live with regrets.”

Your throat tightened, but you smiled, even as your eyes grew glassy. “Se-mi, I think it’s a great idea.”

Her head snapped toward you, surprise flashing across her face. “Really?”

“Of course,” you said, sitting up and taking her hands in yours. “Look, I love having you guys here. You’ve been the best friends anyone could ever ask for. But I don’t want you to miss out on being with your family, okay? You deserve that.” Your lips curved into a small smile. “Besides, we all live in Seoul. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”

A tear slipped down Se-mi’s cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, her smile trembling. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“You’re my best friend, too,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. You took the cigarette from her, taking a long drag before exhaling slowly and wiping away your own tears. Then, with a mischievous grin, you added, “Besides, I’d like to be able to fuck my boyfriend whenever I want without being so rudely interrupted.”

Se-mi snorted, her laughter breaking the tension. “You two are actually sick, you know that?”

“And you love it,” you teased, nudging her shoulder with yours.

“Unfortunately,” she joked, laughing as she sipped on the bottle. “I definitely won’t miss the ‘Oh-OH mY GOd! SU-BonG!” She imitated your moaning and you laughed. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault he’s good in bed!” You giggled.

The two of you sat there a little longer, sharing stories, laughter, and a few more quiet tears. It wasn’t goodbye, not really. But it was the beginning of a new chapter, one that would reshape the bonds you’d built over the past few weeks. The thought was bittersweet, but as you looked out over the city with your best friend by your side, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for everything you’d shared—and for everything that was still to come.

-

The next day, you helped Se-mi and Min-su pack their belongings. Even though they’d only be 20 minutes away, it felt like they were moving to the other side of the world. The apartment, once filled with their laughter and presence, seemed emptier with every item they packed into their small bags.

“I can’t believe we’re really leaving,” Se-mi said softly, her voice tinged with emotion as she hugged you tightly.

“I’m gonna miss you guys so much,” you murmured, tears brimming in your eyes as you clung to her. Min-su stepped in next, pulling you into a bear hug that made you laugh even as tears slipped down your cheeks.

“Don’t get all sappy on us,” he teased, though his voice cracked slightly. “We’ll still see each other, you know.”

You smiled through your tears, nodding. “I know. It’s just… it won’t be the same.”

When they finally left, you stood in the doorway, watching them disappear down the hallway. Your heart felt heavier with each step they took away from your little apartment. You closed the door softly, turning to Thanos with a pout, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to hold yourself together.

He was already waiting for you, his expression gentle and understanding. “Come here, honey,” he said, opening his arms.

You walked into his embrace, burying your face in his chest as he wrapped you up tightly. His hand slid into your hair, stroking softly as you sniffled against him.

“It’s going to be so weird without them,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt.

“I know,” he said, his tone soothing. “But we’ll see them soon, okay? And I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. His dark eyes met yours, steady and full of reassurance. “Promise?” you whispered, needing to hear it again.

He cupped your cheeks in his hands, his thumbs brushing away a stray tear. “Cross my heart,” he said with a tender smile before leaning down to kiss you. The kiss was soft and unhurried, his lips lingering on yours as if to remind you of everything he’d promised.

The next two days passed in a quiet rhythm. With your friends gone, the apartment felt different, but you and Thanos filled the space with your own kind of warmth. You cooked dinner together, bumping into each other playfully in the small kitchen. You made love lazily in the afternoons, your bodies tangling in the sheets as the sunlight streamed through the window. And in the evenings, you binged trashy TV, laughing at ridiculous plots and stealing kisses during commercial breaks.

One night, as you lay tangled together under the blankets, his hand lazily traced soft patterns across your bare skin. Your head rested on his shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a state of peaceful contentment. The sound of the TV droned in the background, but you weren’t paying attention anymore.

You turned your face slightly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Let’s go see your place tomorrow.”

Thanos froze for a moment, his fingers stilling on your skin. “Yeah?” he asked cautiously, his tone laced with a hint of surprise.

“Yeah,” you said, tilting your head to look up at him. “I want to see the luxurious life you live.” A teasing smile tugged at your lips. “Besides, you’ve been holed up in my crappy apartment for weeks. I should at least see what you’re offering.”

A grin spread across his face, but it quickly softened into something more serious. “I want you to know,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentle tone, “I’m happy anywhere, as long as it’s with you. Okay?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. It was slow and sweet, a quiet promise shared between you. As the night carried on, the two of you drifted into a peaceful sleep, his arms wrapped securely around you.

But Thanos didn’t sleep for long. As your breaths evened out, he carefully reached for his phone, his fingers moving quickly across the screen. He messaged his team, instructing them to ensure the penthouse was spotless by morning. The car would be there at 11 a.m. sharp, ready to pick you both up.

Tomorrow was the day he’d been waiting for—the day he’d finally share his sanctuary with you. It wasn’t just about showing you his home; it was about letting you into a part of his life he’d kept hidden from everyone else.

He exhaled deeply, staring at the glowing screen for a moment longer. Ever since he’d been spotted with you at a club, the media frenzy had reignited, fans clamoring for his return. His manager was desperate to get him back in the studio but Thanos had ignored him. None of that mattered to him—not the attention, not the pressure. All that mattered was you.

He set his phone down, his gaze shifting to your peaceful face, your hair fanned out across the pillow. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering into the quiet room, “Tomorrow, everything changes.”

-

The morning sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting soft streaks of gold across the bed. You stirred, rolling over to reach for your boyfriend, but your hand met only the cool, empty space where he should have been.

Sitting up, you scanned the small studio apartment, hoping to see him in the kitchen or shifting around in the bathroom, but the room was still. A flicker of unease crept in, but then you grabbed your phone from the nightstand.

Thanos: Be back soon :)

You stared at the message, your brows furrowing in curiosity. What was he up to this early? Shaking your head, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, deciding not to dwell on it.

With a stretch and a yawn, you moved to your closet to find something to wear, only to be met with the realization that nearly all your clothes were in desperate need of a wash. Sifting through the hangers, your fingers landed on an old camo dress you hadn’t worn in years. It hugged you in all the right places, and paired with your favorite jean jacket and sneakers, it felt like the perfect mix of casual and cute.

Just as you were smoothing the dress over your hips, the apartment door burst open. Thanos stood there, looking effortlessly breathtaking. His black jeans fit snugly against his toned frame, and his white button-up shirt was open at the collar, revealing just enough of his chest to make your heart race. His purple hair was styled perfectly, the strands catching the morning light.

“Well, don’t you look nice,” you said with a smirk, eyeing him appreciatively.

His lips curled into a grin as his gaze swept over you, lingering on the way the dress accentuated your curves. “And you’re one to talk,” he replied, his voice low and teasing. “You look perfect.”

You raised a brow. “I thought we were just going to see your place today. Do I need to change?”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, stepping closer and offering you his hand. His eyes softened as he added, “You look beautiful.”

Blushing, you took his hand, letting him guide you out of your apartment. Outside, a sleek black Hyundai Genesis waited, gleaming in the morning sun. Thanos opened the door for you, his touch gentle as he helped you into the car.

The interior smelled like leather and luxury, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers over the smooth seats as he spoke softly to the driver. “I’m excited to finally show you my place,” he said, his voice tinged with nervous energy.

You smiled at him, warmth blossoming in your chest. “I’m excited to see it,” you said, though a small part of you sensed there was more to this visit than he was letting on.

When the car pulled up to a towering building in downtown Seoul, your jaw dropped. The sleek architecture gleamed against the sky, its modern design a stark contrast to the cozy familiarity of your small apartment.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, unable to take your eyes off the building.

Thanos sighed as he noticed the paparazzi beginning to gather outside, their cameras already flashing. His hand tightened around yours. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low with frustration. “I thought this would be handled. I didn’t want them ruining today.”

You placed a reassuring hand on his arm, meeting his gaze. “It’s okay,” you said softly, giving him a small smile. “I’m here. With you. That’s all that matters.”

His tension melted under your touch, and he brushed his thumb over your knuckles before stepping out of the car and helping you to your feet. Fans screamed his name, and cameras clicked furiously as he wrapped a protective arm around your waist and led you toward the building.

Inside, the chaos of the crowd was replaced by the quiet elegance of the lobby. The doorman greeted you both with a polite bow and handed each of you a glass of champagne. “Thanos! Been travelling?” He asked in Korean.

“Something like that.” Thanos replied with a sly grin.

“New girlfriend?” the doorman asked excitedly in English, his eyes lighting up as he looked at you.

“Yeong-wonhi,” Thanos replied, his voice steady and full of meaning.

The word made your chest tighten with emotion. He’d whispered it to you countless times in the stillness of the night—forever.

The elevator ride to the top floor was quiet, the anticipation building with every passing second. When the doors opened into the foyer of his penthouse, the sight before you stole your breath.

The walls were painted a rich red, adorned with carefully chosen pieces of art that told stories of culture and passion. The floors gleamed under the sunlight streaming through massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The open layout led into a spacious living room, the furniture modern and luxurious, yet inviting.

“Whoa,” you breathed, stepping inside.

Thanos followed closely, his hand on the small of your back as you took it all in. “Let me give you the tour,” he said, his voice tinged with pride.

He led you through the guest bedrooms—each immaculate and equipped with its own bathroom. “Se-mi and Min-su can stay here when they visit,” he said with a small smile, glancing at you for a reaction.

Next was his studio, filled with shelves of vinyl records and stacks of notebooks. You could feel the weight of his passion in this space, and it made your heart swell.

Finally, he brought you to the master bedroom. The king-sized bed was draped in black velvet, and a modern fireplace sat under a large mounted television. He opened the door to a massive bathroom, complete with a glass-walled shower, a jacuzzi tub, and a double vanity. The adjacent closet was spacious and well-organized, but one side stood completely empty.

“I want to see all your pretty clothes hung up here,” he said softly, trailing his fingers along the empty rail.

You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with emotion. “T, this is…”

“Let me show you the balcony,” he said quickly, taking your hand and guiding you outside. The view was nothing short of breathtaking. The entire city of Seoul stretched out before you, glittering under the sunlight.

“It’s almost as beautiful as you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to him, tears brimming in your eyes. “T, I… I love it.”

Relief flooded his face. “You do?”

You nodded, smiling through your tears. “It’s perfect.”

“I’ve never brought anyone here,” he admitted, his voice shaking slightly. “This place has always been just mine. My sanctuary. But with you… I want to share it. I want this to be our place.”

Your heart swelled as his words sank in. Without thinking, you reached up to cup his face. “Thank you for letting me in,” you whispered. Then, with a playful smile, you added, “Now, will you please make love to me on our bed?”

Thanos stared at you for a moment, his shock quickly melting into a grin. “You’ll move in?”

“On one condition,” you said, stepping closer and peeling off your jacket. “I’m your one and only. Yeong-wonhi.”

He didn’t hesitate, scooping you into his arms and carrying you back inside, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as full of love as it was passion. “Forever,” he promised.

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[silentsneezes]

I’m adoring all of your Ar/cane content! It’s really feeding my current arcane brain rot , thank you for sharing your work!

Manifesting a sick Jay/ce fic 🤞

thank you anon!! I'm so glad other people can enjoy my writing, especially as the a/rcane brain rot persists

flattery will get you everywhere, so here's a 1.8k word sick j/ayce fic in which he tries to attend a council meeting! (and suffers the consequences of his own actions)

I wrote half of this on a plane and half of it while procrastinating my schoolwork, so if it's not my best work forgive me lol, it's mostly self indulgent pathetically sick j/ayce (cw for mess, but not in great detail)

Jayce’s throat is aching and coated with a thick layer of bothersome, phlegmy congestion. He can feel it rise in his throat after every swallow, only worsening his discomfort. Admittedly, it’s partially his fault; he should’ve realized this morning that attending a council meeting with a cold was a poor choice.

His alternative had been to tell Mel he was sick, and request that she pass on the word and make apologies on his behalf. In hindsight, he'd obviously made the wrong decision in going; Mel’s soft spoken assurances would've been an improvement over Jayce’s evident illness and lack of composure. 

As if showing up sick wasn’t bad enough in and of itself, Jayce showed up sick and twenty minutes late, bursting into the room with an uncharacteristic display of clumsiness. Upon first glance, Mel could tell he had one hell of a fever, and yet she excused the muttered frustrations of her colleagues with a polite, “Counselor Talis, so glad you could join us today.”

Jayce offered everyone an apologetic nod as he took his seat, his head swimming dizzily with every step he took. His hair was plastered to his skin in a few places, sweaty and damp due to fever. And god was it hot in there. He looked around, scanning the other counselors for any signs of discomfort at the sweltering temperature of the room, but they all appeared to be just fine. In his observation of the room, he accidentally caught Mel’s eye, attempting to give her a look of reassurance at her obvious concern. 

Jayce forced himself to focus on the discussions taking place, having heard they’d be assessing the value of HexTec theories and their continued funding. He needed to defend his and Viktor’s work; he needed to have some hope, however irrational, that HexTec might help his partner. 

His hearing swam in and out of focus as the meeting dragged on, the bickering of the privileged numbing Jayce’s mind. He only snapped back to reality as he felt a burning itch settle in the back of his sinuses. He sniffed experimentally, temporarily dissuading the sensation and letting out a breath of relief. 

Of course it wasn’t that easy, the itch returning with a vengeance just a second later and forcing his breath to catch loudly, “hHH-“. Luckily, the “civil discussion” of the council members had turned into a full on argument— as it often does— and the sound was only noticed by Mel. Jayce squashed the upturned tip of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, holding his breath as best he could to avoid more vocal hitches. Soon enough, his head snapped forwards with a painfully stifled “hhHNGSXXT’ch!” 

The single stifle did nothing to alleviate the problem, but rather encouraged the itch to travel further up Jayce’s nose. His nostrils attempted to flare beneath his fingers, the absolute need to sneeze taking hold of his entire focus. 

Somehow, Jayce managed to contain his typically vocal build ups, once again squashing a sneeze into submission, “hhHGGSXCHh’huh!” He could feel the pressure of snot building up behind his pinched fingers, searching through his pockets for a handkerchief with his other hand. He felt Mel’s eyes trained on him, his stomach twisting at her attentiveness. 

His stomach dropped as he suddenly recalled setting the handkerchief down in his bedroom in his brainless haste to not be entirely late. Fuck fuck fuck. His sneezes are typically forceful, accompanied by some spray and occasionally requiring a nose blow in the aftermath. But when he’s sick, it’s an entirely different story, and without a handkerchief he's fucked. 

Jayce dropped his hand to his lap, quick to wipe his other wrist against the underside of his nose. He cringed at the thick liquid trail it left behind, barely giving him enough relief to keep the mess from dripping down his upper lip. 

At the sound of the word “HexTec” being spoken by Salo, Jayce forced his attention back to the discussion at hand. His body ached, exhausted and riddled with discomfort, but he listened to every word. After a few minutes, Mel gave him a pointed look: ‘now’s your time’. 

Jayce cleared his throat, both to gain the attention of his colleagues and out of necessity, “I know you fear HexTec. Believe me, I understand your hesitance at exploring such an unknown possibilit-hhy.” Fuck, not now, “But I’ve seen what it can do with my own eyes, the lives it could hh s-hhH-save.”

Jayce continued speaking with a steadfast determination. He needed to get his point across, for the sake of his research… for the sake of his partner. 

“I believe HexTec could be the next great innovation of Piltover. Why wait when we could be helping people now?” 

As Jayce spoke, he could feel the moisture pooling at the base of his nose begin to slip onto his upper lip. He was quick to wipe it away, wishing the councilmembers didn’t all have their eyes trained on him. As soon as his fabric-clad wrist brushed against the base of his nose, the itch returned with urgent demand. 

“Exc-hhH-cuse hhehme- hHHNNGGZXXCHh!” Even stifled to his best ability and muffled into his elbow, Jayce’s sneeze rang through the room. He could feel the mess clinging between his nose and elbow, grateful as he heard Mel’s voice intervene. 

“I believe what Counselor Talis is saying is that HexTec offers great promise for Piltover. It would put us on the map, increasing our trade repertoire and minimizing the risk of losing goods to thieves.” Mel spoke clearly, attempting to persuade with financial and economic tactics rather than the pathos of saving lives. As Mel recovered the point Jayce was about to lose, he managed to clean himself up using his sleeve— at least enough so that the snot clinging to his nose was no longer visible. 

“Counselor Talis,” Salo drawled, almost mocking in his use of the title, “how are we supposed to trust your research? It’s unsanctioned, and with a Zaunite nonetheless.” 

Jayce felt a flush of anger at the insult towards Viktor, tempted to tell Salo off in his fever ridden state. He took a moment, reminding himself that Viktor is fully capable of defending himself should the time ever come. Besides, Viktor would likely dismiss the criticism with ease, summing it up to the privileged ignorance of the undercity. 

“We’ve done extensive worgk. All of our experimendts habve been recorded and we plan on submidding themb to academy researchers for approval,” Jayce answered, his unwavering commitment clear despite the congestion clouding certain letters of his speech. 

To his utmost relief, there was no further rebuttal of his or Mel’s points. Jayce felt his posture relax ever so slightly, rubbing his left temple as the room continued to spin. How he had managed to compose not just one, but a few coherent sentences is beyond him. 

The rest of the meeting is short, only dawdling on for another 20 minutes before the counselors are excused. Mel made a beeline towards Jayce as they all started getting up, giving him an expression somewhere between admonishment and concern, “you shouldn’t have come today.” 

“They would’ve- sNRK- denied mby research if I didn’t show ub,” Jayce mumbled, putting both hands on the desk in front of him in order to shove himself upright. His vision blurred momentarily, his broad frame swaying with the head rush. 

“I had someone retrieve Viktor for you,” Mel offered as a hand came out to brace Jayce’s side, “he was quite upset to hear that you attended this meeting.”

Jayce sighed, his shoulders drooping further in exhaustion. He had told Viktor he’d rest, but he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing when he had the opportunity to advocate for their work. Even though he chastises Viktor for his poor self-preservation, Jayce acts similarly to him: pushing himself past his body’s limits out of sheer stubbornness.

Jayce allowed Mel to guide him towards the exit, too deep in his exhausted haze to entirely register what’s happening. He paused as they neared the door, his breath catching in a quick “hhH-“ and then faltering for a second. The itch tickled back through his sinuses, and a throat-burning build up began, “hhIHh- hHHH’uhH- hhhHRRSZZDCHHhew!”

Jayce practically bent in two with the expulsion, misting the air and leaving a string of mess hanging from his nose. He blinked away a few tears clinging to his lashes, swallowing against his painful, aching throat. 

“Gesundheit,” Viktor’s voice sounded from a few steps away from Jayce, his cane clicking against the floor as he drew nearer. Without hesitation, Viktor pressed his handkerchief into Jayce’s hand, his eyes lingering on his partner's sodden sleeve. 

“Thank you Mel, for alerting me of Jayce’s decision to attend this meeting,” Viktor said politely, expressing his gratitude with a thinly veiled criticism at Jayce’s stupidity. 

“Of course, Viktor. Make sure he gets some rest, hm?” Mel replied with a flicker of amusement before taking her leave, allowing Viktor to manage the mess that is Jayce. 

Once Mel took her leave, Jayce looked at Viktor with a guilty expression. 

“You snuck out of our place. Like an idiot with no self preservation,” Viktor admonished, his words frustrated, but his actions affectionate; he placed a hand on Jayce’s back, leading him out to the hall slowly. 

“I kdow-“ Jayce rasped, only to be interrupted. 

“Don’t speak. You sound terrible,” Viktor reprimanded in concern, “Foolish. You were foolish for leaving.” 

“hhHhuh… hhh…”

Viktor kept a hand on Jayce’s back, feeling every hitch and gasp that wracked Jayce’s body.

“hhHhHeh-“

The build up lasted for a painfully long time, intermixed with whimpers from the pain in Jayce’s throat. Finally, he pitched forwards with a spraying sneeze, nearly tripping over himself, “hhHHGGSZZCHhhew!” 

“Bless you,” Viktor tutted as he laced a hand around Jayce’s waist, helping him straighten up again and glancing at the spray cast upon the floor’s tiled surface. “Are you okay to continue?”

“I’mb’uh- ogkay- snnNRFF-“ Jayce snuffled, steepling the handkerchief over his nose as he remembered Viktor had given it to him. Viktor felt a flutter of sympathy at Jayce’s pathetic attempt to clear his nose; the blow sounded more like a blocked up honk than anything else, making the sick man flush in embarrassment.

“Let us get you home,” Viktor murmured, turning in the direction of Jayce’s apartment in the academy. It took a while for the two of them to arrive back at his place, having to stop with every sneeze and cough so Jayce didn’t stumble over himself. By the time they got to Jayce’s place, he was dizzyingly feverish, sweating through his shirt and evidently on the verge of collapsing. In short, he was much in need of some medicine and caretaking. 

i will likely be making a second part to this... and i might make edits to this part if i feel motivated. anyways, i hope it was worth the wait anon!! thank you for the kind words

[wee-chlo]

Doing a little character study of my De Riva Rook from a mixed Spite/Lucanis POV.

Smidgen of spice at the beginning but nothing explicit. Also Pepa is autistic.

Lucanis wants.

What he wants depends on… something. Spite hasn't figured out what. But the longer they're in the Lighthouse, the more his Wants center around Rook.

Sometimes, when Rook wrenches a blade from the throat of an Antaam, or blocks an arrow perfectly with a flick of the wrist, or just laughs low in her throat, head tilted, eyes half-lidded and lips curled, Lucanis wants heat. Teeth and tongue and gasped out names, hips twitching up or thrusting down, a hand twisting in his hair, fingers in his mouth, nails carving out divots on his back, her lips on his, her hand splayed across his chest, her taking, claiming.

And then he wants some privacy. Or a very cold bath. 

Sometimes, when Rook is sitting in the kitchen with him, humming and making something soft with a hook and yarn, he wants quiet. On his knees, head in her lap, eyes closed because he's so tired, arms wrapped around her waist while she runs her hands down his back, through his hair, humming and singing.

And then he swallows past a jagged lump in his throat and banishes the idea from his mind.

And sometimes, when he leaves the kitchen to stretch his legs and sees Rook playing with Assan, he wants soft. Rook's hands cupping his face as she peppers it with kisses, on his cheeks and his lips and his nose and his forehead, like he's precious, like he's sweet, like she adores him.

And then he feels deeply stupid, because he's jealous of a baby griffon. 

Spite likes Rook too. She's always something: moving, talking, singing, changing, disrupting. She's funny and bright, but not blindingly so. She's kind but not grating. She thanks Spite when he brings things from the Fade, and once laughed for five minutes when he pulled a bridge of human bone. 

Spite wants to talk to her. He never gets to talk to her. Lucanis gets to talk to her all the time, but he never says what he wants to, never asks the questions Spite wants to ask.

They talk about contracts and hard lessons from distant childhoods. They talk about hot drinks and first kisses neither of them have had. They talk about yarn and food and songs and other crows Spite doesn't care about. 

They don't talk about how Rook smells. How it shifts as things change. How at first her magic smells like ozone and the sweet scent of rot, but then after Wiesshaupt it smells like fire, and after the Venatori kidnap the Dalish it smells sharply of ice. 

Her perfume is a constant: a Trevisian mix that starts as woodsmoke and ends as vanilla. When Lucanis’ fingers itch to stroke and pet and feel, Spite wants to bury his face in her throat and inhale.

“Stop that,” Lucanis more pleads than demands, his voice slightly strangled. You want it too, Spite accuses. You've been looking. Lucanis doesn't respond.

They don't talk about how Rook is never quiet or still, always rocking or humming or snapping her fingers. Sometimes, if she is very angry or very happy or very anything, she flaps her arms and hands like bird wings or paces in circles for hours or rocks back and forth. Spite doesn't know why, but sometimes it feels like he can see things smooth out around her when she does it. A roughness is gone and she is softened, relaxed. He wants to learn how to do that, but Lucanis won't ask.

Good mystical morning, everyone!

It’s WIP Wednesday Thursday!

Just:

Reblog this post with a snippet of (one of) your current project(s) and I’ll reblog it again with commentary/encouragement !

It doesn’t need to be DA related, you can share whatever you want!

Very chill, no pressure at all! Hope you all are having fun writing/drawing/creating!

[neroushalvaus]

And why did we meet in the middle of a war? What a silly thing for anyone to do.

Jak Malone as Hester Leggatt in Operation Mincemeat

Footage by @lasagnatrades

[jichanxo]

date outfit kitakata save me......... save me....

[doppelnatur]

When does something stop being a stim and start becoming a tick?

Like it's probably still stimming but it occasionally feels so. Mmm physical and out of control?

[viktorwithhextech]

viktor grinned, unable to contain the laughter that spilled from his lips. "at least you get a few hours," he teased, taking a rather large sip of his coffee. "don't ask me the last time I got even an hour or sleep. i probably wouldn't be able to tell. i know it's bad, but like, it's good for my creativity. if you don't mind me asking, what do you normally do after dark? are you working on science projects, or music, or..." he trailed off, a little red when he realised he was rambling. "sorry... this sort of stuff just really excites me."

though her attitude was a tiny bit amusing, he couldn't help but feel incredibly fond of her efforts to protect him. the best part was that he knew she meant it, a fact that was so jarring it made him feel as if the world had been swept from beneath his feet.

"thank you," he said, wondering to himself how many times he had uttered those two words. his fingers twiddled with the fraying hem of his vest. "i must admit, i wish i could have seen you get into fights. i used to always watch other kids in the lanes tousle with the enforcers. embarrassingly enough, i was in awe of them. if i wasn't so shy, i probably would have joined in too. a cane can make an excellent weapon, if you learn how to wield it right."

the silence that washed over them after that was the peaceful sort, and vik found himself wanting to drown in it. it was easy... this was easy, and now that he had it- had her- he wasn't sure how he had ever lived on his own. if he were a louder person, he would have shouted about how happy he felt to the entire town, but he would keep it to his journals instead. even now, he itched to write- to spill the truth of Efa's companionship into the lines of his most precious possession. only the star flecked notebook deserved to know how much she meant to him.

his thoughts were interrupted, however, when she began to cry. immediately, he stood, rushing over to engulf her in a hug. "if i can cry, so can you," he assured her. "and i know what you mean... about all of this feeling strange and new and scary, in a way, but i'm glad it's happened. i... i think you were the piece of me i’ve been missing. it feels like there’s always been this string tying us together, even if we can only see it now.”

when Efa agreed to go to dinner, viktor felt even more excited than he had before. ever since he was little, he’d dreaded endings, afraid they meant he’d never see the people he said goodbye to again. to know she still wanted to spend time with him made him thrilled.

grabbing his coat from the rack near the door, he led her out of the lab, locking it behind him before they made their way outside. it was cold, and when he noticed she had no scarf, he offered his own, unwilling to let a friend go cold.

“here we are,” he declared when they reached the diner, the bell jingling when they stepped inside. “it’s never too busy here, which i like. order whatever. i’ll pay.”

( @efa-solheim )

[natasha-in-space]

You ever read a fic that's so good, you just have to lay there and stare at the ceiling in complete silence for like 15 minutes or so while your brain is basically vibrating with hundreds of thoughts? Yeah, that's one of the best feelings in the world, holy molly

[xenovair]

wassup wassup i am finished with my second prac course as of after my exam tomorrow morning + then i have a week off so if we rally i will write

[bookishjules]

okay so i know it's midnight. i also know if i'm gonna do anything with my time it should be reading to finish the books i'm on before the end of the year... However. what if i finally put together the elaborate spreadsheet that exists only in my head for my sizzy playlist instead

[chaos-has-theories]

just remembered about @monthlyartprompts and now I want to sketch soooo badly but It's 1 a.m. and I need my sleep

[stunie]

ok so i hit 30 tags pretty early so i wanted to add extra thoughts under here i am SOOO SORRY OMFG ITS SO MUCH 😭😭 GOD

attempt 1 at reading - thoughts:

i love how you wrote the nervousness and hesitation of both reader and atsumu ): this relationship feels so genuine and realistic, like every thought is so real and complex and it all just plays out soooo vividly in my head. i can literally feel every single thing in MY SOUL. it got me holding my breath, my heart racing, my stomach churning

the kiss . the first kiss where mr suna interrupted . when i tell you i read it like this >//////< EXCEPT MY HAND WAS CLASPED SO TIGHTLY OVER MY MIUTH. oh my god the reaction i had. it really felt like a first kiss all over again, i was genuinely WARM and all blushy

attempt 2 at reading - thoughts:

i loved how u wrote out the tension again .. and your characterization for all of them ?? kita being all observant? osamu being all curious ?

the emotional rollercoaster i am on in this chapter is crazy. i took my first break after suna interrupted (the kiss killed me), and im taking my second break right after atsumu confesssd (i was killed a second time). i was irritated during the cafe bc WHY r u avoiding me, and then the next second i’m like squealing 😭 the way that u write yue !! the way that u write . i am such a mess right now give me another moment

attempt 3 at reading - thoughts:

holy shit this scene . the kissing ? THE AAY YOU DESCDIBED IT from the first kiss ?? this one made my stomach FLIP omfg .

oh god the neck kisses . the .. the everything . my left leg has goosebumps idk why it’s only my left leg am i okay yue ? am i okay what’s wrong with me

i have a little ways to go i’m almost done but i need yet another break holy shit i have been reduced to a dizzy lil mess what have i become

attempt 4 at reading - thoughts:

oh my god ): oh my god ): what am i even supposed to say here. i love how u wrote the smut part ?? it feels like actual love ? he is so sweet pls

osamu interrupting had me jolting upright BECAUSE SUNA FIRST NOW OSAMU ? is kita the next victim ?? poor baby

AGHHH THE ENDING IS SO CUTE i fr feel like im in an anime ): i feel so pretty and so lovely THIS WAS SO LOVELYYY TYSMMM YUE FOR WRITING THIS

v. MISUNDERSTANDINGS

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: vi. Epilogue: Sakura sweetness | series masterlist

synopsis: A drunken conversation with Atsumu leads to a cascade of events that has your mind practically exploding with endless questions, and with the way Atsumu has been acting, you want clear answers, and you’ll get them one way or another—even if it meant arguing in the twins’ shared apartment on a late Thursday afternoon.

chapter content warning: college au, mentions of alcohol use, intoxicated characters, cockblocker suna (rip), angst, hurt/comfort, awkward tension, atsumu & reader are dumbasses, arguing, light smut (mdni; nothing too explicit), nsfw, implied unprotected s*x, fluff towards the end yay, kita graduates from uni!, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, friends to lovers, not beta read.

word count: 6.1k

notes: AAACKKKK last chapter!! also happy 1 month to this series !! i’m surprised i got to finish this in less than 2 months lmao considering how slow i am w writing :< divider: cafekitsune.

Light. Everything felt light—your head, body, voice, heart.

It felt like all the weight of your shoulders had been lifted, and you could be as carefree as a bird soaring through cerulean skies to be one with the wind. Because right this very moment, nothing mattered at all, not even the fact that you stood before the person you’ve been trying to avoid since the new year rolled around.

Tucked neatly at the back of your mind like a silent reminder, you knew you shouldn’t trust your intoxicated self right now—whether it be your thoughts or feelings but the urge to stop wasn’t there, and you felt extremely optimistic about this—all thanks to the burning alcohol that clouded every bit of your judgement.

Everything felt right.

As you met his caramel gaze, your vision tunnelled, everyone, and everything that surrounded both of you slowly turned into nothing but a mix of hazy hues, upbeat music that spilled from the speakers fading into the distance as you, and Atsumu entered your own world—even the orange-haired male with the bright, doe eyes melted away from your view.

Just you, and Atsumu, exactly how it was supposed to be.

With a bated breath, Atsumu wordlessly nodded, and awaited your next move, as if shackled in a hazy trance. He was fully aware of the thundering heartbeat that rang in his ears, the way his slender fingers ever so slightly dug into the scarlet plastic cup in his hand, cheeks burning with unexplainable emotions.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

It took all the effort for Atsumu to ignore the feeling of your bare skin against his, the searing touch of your fingers around his wrist as you hurriedly whisked him away into the intimate space of their kitchen, as if to shield you both from everyone else’s prying eyes. Despite a stained judgement, the blonde was sure no one gave a single damn if you were to talk it out in the living room, everyone was in their own buzz anyway.

Nonetheless, Atsumu let you take the lead, whatever you wanted, he obliged. As though he was floating on cloud nine, his body became lighter with each step taken, head lightly spinning, warmth that radiated from your palm seeped into his flushed skin, prickly, miniature kisses engulfing his body.

“I’m okay now.” Resting your lower back against the ivory granite countertops, you stare up at Atsumu through your lashes, not noticing your lingering fingers curled around his wrist. For a brief moment, your breath hitched, stomach churning at the sight before you. The lighting behind Atsumu made him look like absolute heaven, flaxen strands glowing like the first rays beneath the warm illuminant, casting an ethereal halo at the back of his head. It didn’t help how he stared down as if your eyes held the cosmos in them, completely awestruck.

Whatever, you chalked it up to his intoxicated state. What else could it have been?

For a brief moment, Atsumu wracked his brain for context behind your words, and as the invisible lightbulb atop his head switched on, he was reminded of the situation at hand. It definitely pulled his consciousness into sobriety. Just a tad bit.

“A-are y’sure?” A breathless, almost dainty whisper slipped past his rosy lips. He took note of the way your gaze shifted ever so slightly downwards, eyes crudely lingering on the plush of his bottom lip as his tongue briefly swiped against it.

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bobbed at your not-so-subtle stare, stomach churning with want. He knew this feeling all too well—it visited him whenever he was alone in his room, mind wandering over to thoughts of you which filled every corner of his mind; sometimes the feeling was too strong, other times he could bear it. Tonight, though, Atsumu wasn’t sure if he was immune to this feeling, let alone erase any impulsive thoughts from his intoxicated mind.

What pulled you into this decision was something you’d never figure out; maybe it was the fact that your yearning heart grew tired of the icy distance between the two of you or maybe you’ve truly come to terms with his unreciprocated feelings—you didn’t know. All you knew was that nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations, especially when it involved feelings. But this could be an exception, right?

“So . . Does that mean we can be friends again?”

It was weird. Atsumu’s voice brimmed with a sense of hope—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks—but the strange glint in his caramel eyes betrayed the blonde entirely.

Despite your better judgement, you chalked it up to the warm light that casted a soft shadow upon his features; maybe you were too dizzy to see things clearly, or maybe you were looking too deep into Atsumu’s expression—hoping to find some sort of sadness upon hearing your decision to move on, and accept his rejection.

Atsumu watched as your eyes traced his features, closely observing them as if to find some kind of answer; as selfish as it seemed, the intensity in your eyes gave him a tinge of hope that perhaps you could let yourself pine over him just a little longer because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with the knowledge that your heart would no longer yearn for him.

The situation was a double-edged sword, really.

You let out a puff of breath, “Yeah, of course. We’re friends again.” Friends. That word should have given you more relief than sorrow but could you really blame yourself? It felt like a bitter reminder of cold rejection which resembled salt pressed against an unhealed wound, a searing itch that left your skin feverish.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

Avoiding his eye contact, you swiftly unwound your fingers from his wrist, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing any sooner. A cold embrace engulfed Atsumu’s wrist, where your fingers were mere seconds ago, he tried his best to ignore how his body yearned for your warmth. He gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, you stood in each other’s silence like two predators sizing up one another, eagerly waiting for one’s move before pouncing, the silent hum of the fridge making up for the lack of conversation between one another.

How strange, this agreement should have cleared the unsettled air between you, and Atsumu but why did it feel like the complete opposite? As if the air turned into something more uncertain. You both knew you could feel the uncanny tension rising up, up, up but not one dared to address it.

Swiftly burying it under the rug, Atsumu spoke, thinly slicing through your trance, “You’ll find someone better.”

God, he must’ve really matured this new year because he didn’t know how he was able to say that straight to your face. Being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this was completely foreign for Atsumu—or maybe he just got better at masking his true emotions.

You closed your eyes upon hearing his response, as if doing so would help you brave the weight of his words. It didn’t. That was the last thing you wanted Atsumu to say to you, ‘someone better’, it was brazen of him to think so poorly of himself, as though he wasn’t that certain someone. It was entirely unfair on your end because who was Atsumu to determine which person was for you?

Even just thinking about it had you fuming, rejection was one thing but completely disregarding the reason behind your feelings for him was another because in your eyes, Miya Atsumu was that ‘someone better’; he was the one who understood you the most, the one who always looked out for you, the one you fucking wanted.

And despite your mind telling you to nod along, and suck it up, the alcohol in your body was stronger; so, you opened your eyes, and furrowed your brows at him,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“But I don’t want anyone better, Tsumu. I want you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, the desperation in your voice was something he hadn't heard before, it definitely pulled at his heart, guilt gnawing at his skin for being the sole reason for your drunken actions. He may be drunk but he wasn’t stupid, Atsumu knew you should’ve kept that one to yourself, he could practically see you brimming with temerity but he’d be lying to himself if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

I want you, too. God, he wanted to say it back badly. The words were lodged in his throat, unable to slip past his lips despite the best efforts to do so.

It dawned on him—right then, and there—the severity of your feelings for him, the immense weight of it. Now, guilt really ate him away; he could only imagine how the past two weeks were for you. Did you cry while thinking about him?

That was the last thing Atsumu wanted.

Though, amidst the guilt, something else blossomed in his chest, it made him feel like he stood upon the highest pedestal. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was pride or greed; as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to push the impulsiveness away as though you’ve infected him with your own. His heart hammered at a thought that formed in his mind, even just thinking about it stirred his chest.

Despite Atsumu’s better judgement, he held onto the feeling with a tight grip, and opened his mouth, tongue nervously swiping at the bottom lip,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“Is . . Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding at Atsumu’s sudden confession. If you were sober, you’d have a million thoughts racing through your mind right now, questioning the feelings he really had for you but unfortunately, only one thing was on your mind—how badly you wanted to kiss Atsumu too.

Dragging yourself further down, down, down the void of uncertainty, you shook your head in a daze,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“What if I say I want to kiss you, too?” 

Barely audible but Atsumu heard it just fine over the pounding of his heart, over the incoherent conversations beyond this kitchen, over the muted bass music because as long as it's you, he’d always listen, even if it meant drowning out the entire world.

Then, there was a heartbeat, a passing second, a dip of a finger to test undisturbed waters; the funny thing was that even a minute disturbance could cause a ripple effect for miles, and miles, awakening the dormant creatures that lay beyond the azure surface.

It was swift, as though Atsumu had been waiting for this very moment to happen—one second you were locked in a trance, the next his lips were pressed against your own, a shared warmth of intimacy searing both bodies in an eternal blaze like a blue flame that dangerously destroyed everything in its path.

Shy. Warm. Soft. Rosy. Like it was meant to be. The list could go on, and on but it was as though your thoughts came quickly before your mind could register them, leaving you in a white, empty haze. With the plastic cups long forgotten on the counter behind, you closed your eyes as Atsumu’s body eagerly pressed against yours, strong arms coming up to rest on the granite countertop behind you, fingers digging into the material to ground himself.

For a moment, everything was still, lips unmoving against each other, a time to bask in this newfound intimacy—the foreignness of one another’s body. The earth felt like it spun on its axis way faster than usual, as if day, and night merged to become one; hues of late dusk, and early dawn intertwined like your bodies.

Bitterness from Atsumu’s rosy lips lingered on your own; you never liked the taste of beer but oddly enough, you didn’t mind it at all.

Your hands cupped Atsumu’s jaw, fingers gently digging onto his soft skin, eager for more as your lips moulded together. Slowly moving his mouth against your own, you followed suit to match the sensual pace he had set, falling deeper, and deeper between the hazy boundaries of friendship, and something a little more. Low whimpers slipped past between each feverish kiss as a drunken greed gradually controlled your bodies.

The initial softness of the kiss dissipated as each second passed, slowly turning into something more carnal, and passionate—breaths becoming heavier, and faces eagerly pressed against one another, angled in a way to grant more access.

Was this what cloud nine felt like? Exhilarating? Euphoric? As though there was no one else—

“Oh!—Holy shit. Did I interrupt?”

A familiar voice violently pulled you, and Atsumu back into reality, swiftly jumping away from each other’s hold, and looking over to the owner of the voice. Suna. The brunette stared at both of you—looking like a deer caught in headlights, chests heaving—his expression was unreadable, almost like a mix of shock, and amusement. You, and Atsumu kissing in the kitchen was absolutely not in his new year bingo card.

Well, this encounter certainly was enough to strip you into sobriety.

Your head spun a little, lungs severely deprived of oxygen. Shame, and realisation settled deep in your bones—shame because Suna just caught you, and Atsumu almost sucking the soul out of each other, and realisation because everything about this whole situation was so wrong; a million questions formulated in your mind as each awkward second passed.

On the other hand, Atsumu was equally as horrified, albeit annoyed that he didn’t have the chance to kiss you longer. The thrumming of his heart pounded in his ears, his mind trying to come up with anything to say just to stop the thoughts formulating in Suna’s mind—oh, he knows that look on his friend’s face very well.

Your view became obstructed by the expanse of Atsumu’s back, a subtle attempt to block you from the brunette’s gaze.

“W-what the hell, Suna?! Don’t jus’ barge into the kitchen, ya scrub!” Atsumu tried his best to act tough but miserably failed with the shakiness in his voice betraying him.

As if to make matters worse, Suna didn’t back down, a smug look painted on his flushed face as the blonde shamelessly blamed him,

“Well, how was I supposed to know that you two were sucking each other’s faces in the kitchen?!”

Did he have to word it like that?

Atsumu opened, and closed his mouth, trying to think of ways to deny Suna’s accusations but his mind went blank, even with just the brunette mentioning your kiss had him blushing like a mad man. Silence yet again occupied the kitchen, low bass music spilled from the speakers, and incoherent chatters from beyond the space making up for the lack of conversation.

Before the situation could get even more awkward, you spoke up, “I . . think I’m just going to go . . ” This gained both their attention, carefully watching as you navigated past Atsumu, and out the kitchen.

The blonde watched as you staggered past him, and Suna; he wanted to go after you, and talk about what just happened but the soles of his feet stayed rooted on the ground, too heavy to lift, even the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

So, Atsumu decided it was best to let you go.

Monday. 

Everyone’s enemy but also a day to gather around the campus coffee shop with friends, and be productive for a while. The calming aroma of coffee engulfed your senses; low chatter from other customers, faint jazz music, and the occasional hum of the coffee machine filled the table from the lack of conversation. Despite the café’s light ambience, it didn’t do much to hide the growing tension that surrounded the group, specifically you, Atsumu, and Suna.

Kita was the first to notice the subtle shift of aura that emanated from you three, especially after catching a glimpse of Suna’s narrow eyes trailing from you to Atsumu over his laptop screen; though, he had much more things to worry about than to indulge himself in whatever tomfoolery this was. He’d ask questions later.

On the other hand, Osamu was more than curious, especially after his older twin started acting out of character—Atsumu wasn’t one to engulf himself in thoughts to the point where he’d be staring at an inanimate object, in a complete daze but lately, Osamu has seen him behave as such.

The latter could practically feel the weight of awkwardness pressing against his skin as he subtly watched the three of you. Of course, he did his best to pry off information from the blonde only to no avail; Osamu didn’t know why Suna was even caught up in this but he suspected it was from the party a few days ago.

He remembered seeing you stumble out of the kitchen when he was on his way to grab more drinks from their fridge, the younger twin thought nothing of it until he was met with Suna, and Atsumu awkwardly standing in the kitchen. Normally, Osamu would’ve asked questions that night but the alcohol in him couldn’t care less about the situation.

Staring at the untouched document pulled up on your laptop, you ducked behind your screen to avoid Suna’s wandering gaze, and Osamu’s not-so-subtle curiosity. This was hell. You didn’t even know why you decided to turn up today after that shit show at the party—maybe because you thought you could shove down that memory especially after telling Atsumu that you were fine or maybe you craved the closeness you two once had, and now you were here to rebuild that.

As easy as it sounded, you feared it might not be so with the way Atsumu has been avoiding you like the plague. First, it started when you walked into the café at the same time as the twins, Osamu greeted you at the door before heading inside leaving you, and Atsumu outside. Now, that would’ve been fine if the latter didn’t make a show of taking a couple of steps back to let you go first as though you carried some kind of incurable disease.

The second time was when Atsumu realised the only vacant seat was next to your own, thus, asking to swap with Osamu just so he could sit farthest away from you. And the third was when you had asked him if he was alright while waiting in line to order only to be met with a mindless nod before returning to his phone in his hand.

You tried your very best to ignore the blooming pain in your chest; sure, being sad about Atsumu possibly avoiding you was reasonable but then again, you were the one who told him you were okay now—how Atsumu decided to act after the party was beyond your control.

God but it pissed you off. Swallowing one’s pride, and making effort to rekindle a cold friendship was not an easy feat when the other doesn’t do the same. It shouldn’t work you up this much but it did, and now you were second guessing yourself that maybe it was an irrational decision to abruptly tell Atsumu that you’ve come to terms with moving on.

That night at the party, were you lying to yourself just so you could be around him again?

Whatever. It was too late to take it back anyway.

The days ahead were monotonous, and boring; you, and Atsumu remained orbiting around one another, careful not to get into each other’s path of trajectory but it was tiring. Not only did it feel like navigating through eggshells while he was around but the constant questions from your friends tested your limits. Though, it wasn’t their fault for simply being curious, and getting left in the dark about the whole situation but the prying felt like endless jabs of sharp needles along your skin.

From their point of view, you, and Atsumu were stubborn about the whole situation. None dared to speak up about it, acting as though everything was fine, so your friends were left with very little to work with.

It felt like a game of cat, and mouse where you were the feline chasing Atsumu around. The longer the days dragged on, the more thoughts formulated in your mind, and they all involved the blonde in some way or another. And just like everyone else, you had your limits too; you were tired of Atsumu acting like a stubborn idiot.

When you confessed to Atsumu, sure, you expected an awkward phase but this was even worse. There wasn’t just distance between the two of you, it felt like you were strangers.

He was known for brashly saying the sharp truth, so why couldn’t he be straightforward with you? Was he disgusted by the kiss, and deeply regretted it? Did he think you were weird? You didn’t know, but you were bound to find out even if it meant knocking at the twin’s apartment door at 5:45 PM on a cold, rainy Thursday.

With the sun hidden behind the looming grey clouds, the late winter afternoon was even darker; the roads were packed with vehicles while the sidewalks occupied students, and company workers alike trying their best to shield themselves from the heavy downpour. Despite the streets being illuminated with a tinge of warm yellow from cars, and streetlights, it did nothing to brighten up the gloomy day.

Funny, it was as though the universe knew how you felt today.

“If yer lookin’ for ‘Samu, he won’t be back until 8 PM.” Greeted with Atsumu’s shocked face as the ivory door to their apartment opened, you couldn’t help but visibly roll your eyes at his stubbornness. Yeah, like you’d be here at their apartment looking for Osamu—you knew each of their timetables like the back of your hand.

Flaxen strands that sat atop his head were unruly, a sign that he must’ve been taking a nap sometime ago. Atsumu donned a light blue hoodie paired with black sweats; you tried your best not to ogle the man, after all, you were here for a sensible talk.

“I’m here for you, Miya.”

Atsumu gripped the metal handle a little tighter, the coolness of it seeping into the warmth of his skin. He tried not to flinch at the sudden formality of the conversation. Nonetheless, the blonde pulled the door wider, a wordless invite to their humble space. Giving him a small smile before walking inside, you tried not to think about the last time you were here, and how you found yourself drunkenly kissing Atsumu in their kitchen.

The sound of the door closing shut behind Atsumu reverberated throughout the walls of their apartment, followed by a deafening silence. Met with his honeyed stare, you awkwardly coughed, and played with the hem of your jacket, “I’m not going to take up too much of your time . . but I do just have one question.”

There was a momentary silence as Atsumu waited for you to proceed; he had so many questions running through his mind right now, and it took all his willpower to hold them back, and let you speak instead. It was getting harder, and harder to focus as each second passed with the pounding of his heart—Atsumu didn’t know what to expect.

“Did you—Did you regret that kiss . . ?”

Your skin burned as the question lingered in the air, a beat or two before Atsumu finally spoke up, “. . N-no, why’d ya ask?”

Sighing, impatience prickled your feverish skin. ‘Why’d you ask?’  What the hell does he mean by why would I ask? We made out for fuck sake, that’s something friends don’t do! Why is he acting so casual about it? 

“God, this just made it a lot worse. I have so many fucking questions that my mind wants to explode right now,” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly paced back, and forth, the floors beneath silently creaking with each step. So, Atsumu didn’t regret the kiss but he’s acting like you’re strangers—fucking hell, why did he even kiss you in the first place?!

Your mind was a complete mess.

Trying to calm yourself down with slow, deep breaths, you decided to address the elephant in the room first, “Then why have you been avoiding me, Atsumu?—I’m sorry but I’m the one who got rejected, I cannot think of any reason why you should be avoiding me like this.” Atsumu hated that look on your face—the desperation, the sadness, the frustration. He never thought that he’d be the one making you feel all these negative emotions, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

Atsumu let out a sigh, carefully formulating the right words into a coherent sentence, “I’m just . . trying to be careful, okay?” His stomach dropped as your face contorted with more confusion.

Did he say something wrong?

“Careful about what, Atsumu?! You—ugh! It’s so hard to talk to you when you’re giving me all these stupidly vague answers! I’ve already told you I was fine. I don’t care anymore that you don’t like me back. I just want us to be back to normal again.”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to be upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on so quickly, and that’s why he’s been acting distant lately; it annoyed him how easy it was for you to talk to him like nothing happened but Atsumu knew he couldn’t tell you the reason—why couldn’t you just try, and understand his situation? Rejecting wasn’t an easy task to do, especially if it was the person he had been hopelessly pining for.

“Well—maybe things aren’t meant ta back ta normal!”

What?

You stared at him for a second, brows furrowed as you tried to comprehend his words that lingered in the cold air of their apartment. Silence engulfed the two of you, the distant sounds of Hyōgo’s late afternoon rain seeping through the slightly opened window.

“Do you feel uncomfortable around me after knowing the fact that I have feelings for you? Is that it?” “God, no—I could never feel that way.”

It took all of Atsumu’s patience not to wrap his arms around you—he wanted to hold you against him badly; that defeated look on your face broke his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe Atsumu was the coward after all.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, ‘Tsumu!”

“It’s hard f’me as well, y’know?!” “What is?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, the words he’s been wanting to scream at the top of his lungs lodged in his throat, threatening to slip out. A wave of adrenaline rush coursed through his veins, heart pounding like crazy with this newfound high, it made him feel as though he was invincible—as if he could say anything, and everything without a care for its consequences.

Fuck it.

“Fuck—It’s because I like ya back, okay?! I always have! And rejectin’ ya was so goddamn hard f’me because I’m still not over ya. God, I think about ya every single second, and it pains me so much because yer already movin’ on, and ‘m still stuck here.”

What?

Flabbergasted, you stared at Atsumu all wide-eyed, the thrumming of your heart becoming increasingly loud against your ears as each slow second passed. Did he just say he liked you back? As though mother nature was watching, the rain outside poured harder; sounds of droplets of heavy water against the roof filled the silent apartment, pulling you back into reality.

“Then why—If you feel the same way then why did you reject me?”

When you knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment, you expected a sincere conversation with Atsumu, not him confessing his feelings out of the blue. You were absolutely speechless—you didn’t know whether to jump for joy because he actually does like you back or whether to massage your temples from pure confusion.

“Back then during the trip, ya told me ya weren’t ready for a relationship yet, and that ya only wanted ta confess ta get rejected n’ move on. I wanted ta respect yer decision, so . .”

Flashbacks of said conversation from the trip quickly came into mind, and how you told Atsumu about not being ready for a relationship yet.

Oh.

Oh.

The weight of frustration from your shoulders slowly dissipated, the pent up annoyance you held in your heart was gone too. Suddenly, you weren’t so frustrated anymore after learning about the whole truth behind the situation. You were able to breathe better with the bad air finally cleared between you, and Atsumu.

Looking at it now, you felt absolutely silly. The whole situation turned out to be one big misunderstanding, it was almost laughable—now, you truly understood the essence of communication is key.

You let out a humourless laugh, “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Taking a few steps toward the blonde, you leaned your forehead against his chest, a hand coming up to curl into a fist to lightly hit it; a faint scent of his musky cologne lingered on the fabric of his hoodie, effectively invading your senses. Atsumu didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your body flush against his before resting his chin on the crown of your head.

For a beat or two, you, and Atsumu remained in each other’s hold, basking in the cosy atmosphere. 

“Would I be more stupid if I tell ya I want ta pick up where we left off at the party?”

Before you knew it your lips were sealed in a searing kiss—this time, it felt raw, all things passionate, and eager. Hands impatiently roaming each other’s unexplored bodies, sounds of wet kisses slowly filling up the apartment. The atmosphere shifted from cosy to something more sensual, light groans, and moans slipping in between each kiss.

Your hands rested on Atsumu’s golden strands, fingers gently tugging at it as he worked his lips down the column of your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the feverish skin. Atsumu focused on a certain spot just below your ear, nipping, and sucking at it which pulled a dainty whine from your lips.

“‘T-Tsumu—Ah!” You gasped, his tongue leaving trails of goosebumps beneath its sinful licks against your skin. He cursed under his breath, the dizzying tone of your voice awakening the slumbering carnal beast that resided in his core. With each dulcet moan that slipped past your swollen lips, Atsumu became greedier, he wasn’t going to settle for mere kisses on your skin—he needed to hear more.

Pulling away from your intoxicating scent, Atsumu looked down at you with parted lips, and hooded eyes, caramel gaze clouded with nothing but pure desire. “I think we should take this ta my room.” He panted.

Nodding at his proposal, hurried footsteps padded over to his room as though each second wasted was crucial. As soon as the door behind Atsumu slammed shut, his lips were on yours once again, strong hands deftly working on the layers of clothing you wore, slowly slipping them off of you one by one; Atsumu could practically feel himself shaking with nervousness, and excitement.

Discarding your top on the wooden floor beneath, Atsumu stared wide-eyed at your torso, both hands coming up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra, earning a low moan from you. The air of the room felt cold against your skin but Atsumu’s touch was enough to ignite you.

“So beautiful . .” He absent-mindedly gasped, a lovestruck look in his honeyed eyes.

Hands eagerly tugging at the hem of his hoodie, Atsumu swiftly pulled the fabric off his torso in one movement, golden strands tousled from the action. Goosebumps formed upon his sun kissed skin, bare torso met with the cold winter air; your eyes raked Atsumu’s physique up, and down, shamelessly ogling his muscled chest in all its naked glory. God, you used to just fantasise about this, and now it was served right in front of you on a silver platter.

You decorated each other’s skin with endless love bites, sinful hues of dark red, and purple peppered along your chest, and neck. Atsumu took his sweet time to savour every bit of you—your taste, your scent, your sounds, everything. He made sure to bask in your serene beauty, the gentle glow of your bare figure before utterly devouring you like a starved animal, ravaging your purity with carnal desire.

Atsumu let himself go at the raw intimacy of your bodies, the feeling of your sweet warmth brought tears of pleasure in his eyes as he pushed, and pushed towards the newfound ecstasy you both shared. The chant of his name slipped past your lips like a sinful melody, mere fuel to the relentless drive of his hips. But Atsumu held you dearly against his naked body through it all, fingers intertwined with your own as he keenly chased both your pleasures, choked out moans of your name whispered hotly against your sensitive skin.

And as you both tipped over the edge, Atsumu didn’t fail to tell you how much he loved you in between each pathetic moan as he painted your insides white, the dizzying pleasure contorting his handsome face in pure ecstasy. You held him in your arms, nails digging crescent-shaped marks on his skin, whispering saccharine praises to him as you let go, and emptied the words of your heart.

As the gentle aftermath of the passionate exchange rolled around, Atsumu held you in his arms, hearts beating as one, and lulling you both to sleep. The last thing you heard was a faint ‘I love you’ before passing out from exhaustion.

“‘Tsumu, what did ya want for—Oh my god! What the fuck?!” 

A familiar voice abruptly pulled you, and Atsumu out of your sleep, followed by the loud bang of his door slamming shut. Muffled expletives from outside the room could be heard as you both stirred beneath the ivory sheets. “‘Tsumu, what the hell?! Ya should’ve warned me before I went into yer room!” Osamu yelled from the other side of the door.

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face before turning to the door, “Shut yer trap! Ya should’ve knocked!” At his twin’s silence, he let out a sigh, and slung a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body before closing his eyes once again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “We really need to stop getting caught. First, Suna, and now Osamu.” Atsumu hummed in response, too sleepy to even think or form a coherent sentence. Snuggling closer to him, you closed your eyes, and went back to sleep as well.

Oh, you could get used to this.

Winter slowly turned into spring as March rolled around—the end of the academic year.

Trees that were once bare slowly blossomed with flowers, hues of yellows, and browns were replaced with endless greenery, and frigid air became more welcoming like a warm embrace. Most importantly, the cold distance between you, and Atsumu no longer existed, instead, it was replaced by fluttering heartbeats, and fluffy moments that hinted at a sweet forevermore.

“There he is! How does it feel to be a fresh graduate!” Suna whistled as Kita walked over to the group, clad in a black academic gown with a matching trencher propped neatly on his head, the golden tassel on the cap swayed with every step taken; he donned a warm smile, one hand holding his well-deserved degree.

The buzz of excitement outside the venue was high, the graduation ceremony having finished just a few minutes ago. You were all surrounded by graduands, all with heartfelt smiles on their faces as they conversed with family, and friends alike. 

As your friends fell into a merry conversation, a warm hand interlaced with your own, giving your hand a comfortable squeeze. Atsumu. Looking up at your boyfriend, he cheekily leaned into your ear, whispering an ‘I love you’ before slowly blinking at you, mirroring a cat’s action. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his antics.

“Are you two lovebirds done, now?” Suna coughed, pulling you back into reality.

Met with amused expressions plastered on your friends’ faces, you, and Atsumu returned a sheepish smile before joining in their conversation. “Anyway, we were talkin’ about how we should celebrate Kita’s graduation. It can also serve as a treat for us for makin’ it through another academic year.” Osamu explained, earning a hum of approval from you, and Atsumu.

“How about a spring trip to Kyoto?” —

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[humanmorph]

as soon as i'm done w my zine piece i have GOT to get on the animatic grind

[phagodyke]

only took half my meds today bc I slept in rly late this morning and didn't want to take the full dose in case it keeps me awake tn but good grief I'm feeling them wear off.. my heaud hurts