#think I’ll just go with something a little more simple

[dior-luxury]

A Love Worth Fighting For

Background Information: You have been the boys' crush ever since middle school. So, when they suddenly hear about you being in a relationship, they feel an urgent need to win you back and save you from your toxic boyfriend.

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] ace . deuce . jack . epel . sebek

- [𝐩:𝐬] jealousy . some talk of physical fighting

Note: This piece has no joke, been sitting in my drafts since 2022 😭. So I thought I would re-vamp it, so it can see the light of day

Ace Trappola

Ace had always been a tease, a troublemaker, the kind of guy who’d steal the last piece of your lunch just to get a reaction out of you. But underneath the jokes and smug grins, there was something real—something unspoken between you two.

Which was why when you introduced your new boyfriend, Ace felt his stomach drop like a rock sinking into an abyss.

This guy? Some pompous, possessive jerk who acted like he owned you? Ace saw it immediately—the way he stood too close, the way his arm never left your waist like a leash, the way his eyes flashed with irritation every time you so much as laughed with another guy. It made Ace’s blood boil.

At first, he tried to play it cool. “Oh, so this is the lucky dude, huh?” he said, smirking, but his voice lacked its usual playfulness. “You sure you’re not just keeping him around ‘cause you lost a bet?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing him off, but Ace knew. He saw the hesitation in your smile.

And then the incidents started piling up.

He caught your boyfriend tightening his grip on your wrist when you tried to pull away. Ace had been ready to deck him right then and there if you hadn’t given him a pleading look. Then there was the time he overheard your boyfriend snapping at you for talking to him—Ace, of all people, who had been your friend since forever.

That was when the urgency hit him like a train. He had to get you out.

The next time he found you alone, he cornered you, grabbing your hand with more gentleness than he knew he was capable of. “Oi,” he murmured, his voice unusually serious. “Tell me the truth. You happy with that guy?”

You hesitated. It was all the answer he needed.

His grip tightened. “I swear, if he’s messing with you—hurting you—I don’t care what it takes, I’ll get you out. Even if I have to be the bad guy in your eyes.”

His heart pounded. He was ready to throw away everything—his pride, his dignity—just to make sure you never had to look that hesitant ever again.

Because Ace Trappola didn’t just lose. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to lose you.

Deuce Spade

Deuce had always been the kind of guy who charged in headfirst, fists clenched, heart blazing with conviction. But when he saw you with him, for the first time, he froze.

He wanted to be happy for you. He really did. But something in his gut twisted when he saw the way your boyfriend spoke to you, belittled you in front of others, grabbed your arm a little too hard.

Deuce wasn’t the sharpest when it came to emotions, but he knew what this was. It was wrong.

He tried to brush it off at first, thinking maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he was just jealous. He had always cared about you—more than he ever admitted out loud. But then he saw the way you flinched at your boyfriend’s harsh words. The way you forced a smile when you said everything was fine.

And Deuce saw red.

The next time he found you alone, his hands clenched at his sides. “Listen,” he said, voice trembling with restrained anger, “I don’t know what’s going on, but… you don’t have to stay with him. You know that, right?”

You looked away, swallowing hard. “Deuce, it’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is!” His voice came out louder than he meant, but he couldn’t help it. He had been a delinquent once, but he swore to turn over a new leaf—to be someone worthy of standing by your side. And yet, here he was, watching you suffer because he hadn’t stepped up sooner.

He took a deep breath, then softer, more desperate: “I promised myself I’d protect you. Even if you think I’m being stupid, even if you hate me for interfering, I—” His throat tightened. “I can’t just watch this happen.”

He met your gaze, willing you to understand. “If you ever need a way out, I’ll be there. Just say the word, and I’ll take you away from him. I don’t care what it takes.”

Because he wasn’t going to let you disappear into someone else’s shadow. Not when he had finally realized—too late—how much he wanted to be the one standing by your side.

Jack Howl

Jack had always respected your choices. He wasn’t one to interfere in your life, and he certainly wasn’t the type to get jealous.

But something about your new boyfriend didn’t sit right with him.

He didn’t like how the guy talked over you. He didn’t like how he always pulled you away from your friends. And he especially didn’t like the way your scent was constantly laced with stress and fear whenever he was around.

Jack tried to ignore it at first, but when he saw your boyfriend grab you roughly by the arm in the hall one day, a low growl rumbled in his chest before he even realized it.

Before he knew it, he had yanked the guy off you, slamming him against the wall with a snarl.

"You don’t touch her like that." Jack’s voice was cold, deadly serious.

Your boyfriend scoffed, rubbing his shoulder. "The hell’s your problem, mutt?"

Jack didn’t care what he called him. His only concern was you.

He turned to you, his ears twitching as he noted the slight tremble in your stance. His golden eyes softened. "Come on. You’re leaving. With me."

You hesitated, your eyes darting between the two of them. "Jack, I…"

"Don’t." His tail flicked sharply. "Don’t defend him. Don’t make excuses for him." His voice lowered, almost pleading. "I know you. And I know this isn’t what you want."

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Jack took that as confirmation.

Without another glance at your boyfriend, Jack stepped beside you, lowering his head. "Let’s go."

You wavered for only a moment before finally nodding. And that was all Jack needed.

As you walked away with him, Jack made a silent promise to himself.

He should’ve told you how he felt sooner. But it wasn’t too late.

Not yet.

He wouldn’t let you go again. Not now, not ever.

Epel Felmier

Epel never really thought about romance much. He figured if he ever got a girlfriend, it’d be simple—he’d just find someone who liked him for who he was, not some delicate image others forced on him. But you… you were different. You saw him for him, not as some pretty boy, not as someone who needed fixing. You laughed at his stubbornness but never made fun of him for it. You supported him.

And somehow, without him realizing it, you had become important to him.

That’s why it felt like a slap to the face when he found out you were dating someone else.

His first reaction? "Tch. Whatever." He played it cool, pretending it didn’t bother him, even laughing it off when his dormmates teased him about it. "She can date whoever she wants, ain't my business."

But then… he started noticing things.

The way you pulled away from your friends more. The way you barely smiled anymore. The way you flinched at sudden noises.

And the final straw? When he caught a glimpse of your boyfriend grabbing your arm too tightly near the Hall of Mirrors, his voice low and filled with venom as he said something Epel couldn’t hear. But he did see the way your expression went blank, like you were forcing yourself to stay still.

Something in him snapped.

The next time he saw you alone, he stormed up to you, grabbing your hand without thinking. "We need to talk."

"Epel, I—"

"Don’t even try lyin’ to me. I know somethin’ ain't right." His voice was sharp, but there was an undeniable softness underneath. "That guy—he ain’t treatin’ you right, is he?"

You hesitated.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

Epel let out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer, his grip tightening slightly. "Listen. I ain’t some prince, and I ain’t got fancy words, but I know one thing—I’d never let you look as miserable as he does."

He exhaled, lowering his voice. "You deserve better. And… I want to be that for you."

His ears burned red, but he didn’t let go of your hand. "So, what do ya say? Wanna ditch that loser and come with me instead?"

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek prided himself on discipline. He was not one to let trivial things distract him, especially emotions. But you? You were one of the rare exceptions.

He respected you. Looked up to you, even. You had earned his admiration, something few humans ever did.

That’s why, when he found out you were in a relationship, it was… frustrating. He couldn’t understand why it bothered him so much, but he convinced himself it was fine. If this was your choice, then he would respect it.

But then… he started seeing him.

Your boyfriend.

Sebek didn’t like him from the start. There was something about him that rubbed him the wrong way—the way he carried himself, the way he talked down to you as if he owned you.

At first, Sebek told himself it wasn’t his business. He had no right to interfere in your personal affairs.

Then, he saw your boyfriend yelling at you one day, gripping your wrist too tightly. And that was it.

He marched over without hesitation, standing tall, his voice booming. "UNHAND HER AT ONCE, YOU INSOLENT WORM!"

The force of his voice startled your boyfriend enough that he let go of your wrist, stumbling back. Sebek placed himself in front of you like a shield, green eyes burning with fury.

"You—who do you think you are—"

"WHO DO I THINK I AM?" Sebek scoffed, stepping forward, towering over the man. "I AM SEBEK ZIGVOLT, LOYAL SERVANT OF MALLEUS DRACONIA, AND I WILL NOT STAND IDLY BY WHILE A COWARD LAYS HIS HANDS ON SOMEONE AS PRECIOUS AS HER!"

Your boyfriend paled. Sebek took another step, his voice low and dangerous. "You are not worthy of even speaking her name, let alone holding any claim over her."

Your boyfriend stuttered, clearly realizing he had no chance of winning this. With one final glare, Sebek turned his back to him, grabbing your hand.

"Come. You are leaving with me."

"Sebek, I—"

He turned to you, his voice softening ever so slightly. "You do not need to endure this any longer. I swore to protect you, and I will keep that promise—whether you ask for it or not."

His grip on your hand tightened just a little. "And if you allow it… I would like to stand by your side, not just as your protector… but as the one who cherishes you as you deserve."

His face was red, his jaw tight, but he didn’t waver. He wouldn’t let you go back to that man.

Not when he was right here, willing to give you the world.

[misshuntereevee]

Synopsis: You look like the MC, and you actually remember bits and pieces of the myth (not all.) But MC finally shows up, with no memory, and Sylus can’t help but be drawn in. What will happen?

Note: I haven’t written anything in like a month so go easy on me 😅 I also am not beta-read, I just need Sylus simping and begging for forgiveness…

—

Two years ago. The little reminder flits across the screen.

But nonetheless, you sit in your shared apartment -- alone with a glass of wine. No missed calls, no texts.

You weren’t sure when it started. Probably the first time he saw her. She looked just like you. You — just like her. You didn’t think anything would shake how Sylus saw you. His princess. But she obviously did. He found himself torn -- were you his sorceress? Or was this woman?

When you do finally get a message from Sylus, it’s enough to make your heart drop. “I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.”

No mention of the anniversary. Being sneaky, you decide to tap and see where he is. Linkon? Another few tabs and you see the feed of a sidewalk -- with him and Miss Hunter chatting. Your eyes close, your fingers rubbing the bridge of your nose. You feel your hands tighten around the stem of your wine glass until it shatters. You didn’t even feel the glass dig into your skin -- just the blood trickling down your wrist.

She’s wearing your smile. The smile that you give him. And he’s looking at her like she’s you. And as your doppelganger, she’s probably close.

As you treat your wound, you can’t help it. Tears overflow as blood washes out into the porcelain sink.

You’d promised yourself after how your father treated your mother that you’d never let yourself feel this way. Unloved. Don’t get you wrong -- if it had been this once, you probably wouldn’t have cared. But the fact of the matter -- this is the third time. You’d been keeping count.

So you call.

Once. No answer.

Twice. No answer.

By the third unanswered call, your hands tremble. The broken wine glass sits untouched beside you, the clock ticking in mockery. You stare at the phone screen, willing his name to appear, but nothing. Just silence. The kind that suffocates. The kind that makes decisions for you.

“If I’m not your little bird, then fine,” you say, grinding your teeth. You make one more call, this time to your best friend. She answers on the second ring and it’s not long before you’ve made your decision -- you’re leaving.

* * *

He’d call you as soon as he dropped her off.

He promised himself that. And while Sylus had a great memory, he suddenly had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something. But he ignores the phone in his pocket as he listens to the woman next to him. Miss Hunter.

He can’t lie and say he doesn’t feel the attraction. But what happened? Why was she here if you were too? And which one was his princess? Which one was the one he was bonded to? He’d never had this linkage bond with you -- no, that only happened with this hunter. That…looked exactly like you.

The phone is ringing again, and Miss Hunter tilts her head. “Aren’t you going to answer that? Might be one of your henchmen.” She teases.

So he glances -- seeing your name, his fingers hover over the screen before pushing decline. “It’s not important right now.” And he shoots the simple text: Don’t wait up.

Walking her upstairs, Miss Hunter turns to face him. “Well, thanks for the ride… maybe you aren’t the monster everyone says you are.”

His lips stretch up in a smile. The words make him feel warm -- the way that for the longest time only you could do. “Careful, kitten. I might think you're softening up on me.”

“Never,” is all Miss Hunter says, before disappearing into her apartment.

He’s almost on his motorcycle when he gets another call. He answers it without looking, convinced it’s you again. “Hello, my little bird,” his voice says softly. The familiarity is settling in now that he knows he can talk to you -- something absent with Miss Hunter. In a way, he can recognize that Miss Hunter will never be able to give him that. But he has to know why she’s here. Why does she exist when you’re right there?

But it’s not your voice that replies. “Oh -- no, it’s Luke, boss. I thought you and the Missus were out on your anniversary date. I was calling --”

Sylus’ grip on his handlebars tightens. “What?” he nearly growls. The blood in his veins turns ice-cold. His knuckles go white, the rich and expensive leather groaning under the pressure. His breath catches in his throat, heart slamming against his ribs. He forgot. Fuck, he forgot. The realization crashes into him like a freight train, knocking the air from his lungs.

“Oh, I just saw the date on your calendar --”

“I’ll call you back,” he snarls.

Sylus knows as soon as he gets past the second ring that you aren’t going to pick up the phone. You never let it ring longer than that. But just in case, he waits until you let it go to voicemail. And then he calls again. And again. If he was a normal man, he’d be a little embarrassed to call so much -- but he wasn’t normal and he didn’t care.

By the tenth call, he’s gripping the device tightly. “'Pick up. Please, my little bird. Pick up.” The call goes to voicemail. Again. His chest tightens. He feels it now—the absence of you. And for the first time, he's truly afraid.

And for a moment, he wondered if he’d panic this much if it was Miss Hunter who was upset. Would he be upset if she was mad at him? Finally, he leaves a message: “Little bird, call me please. You know we need to talk about this.”

You’ll call him back with that. He was almost certain. But as he got closer and closer to your shared apartment, it became clear that you weren’t going to call. And all it did was give him time to think. And he came to the conclusion that you had every right to be pissed.

But he had no idea how pissed you were until he unlocked your shared front door -- and it’s all gone.

Not the furniture, no. But your favorite cardigan by the door? Gone. Your mail slot? Your name was ripped off, and only Sylus’ remained. The further he got into the apartment, the more he noticed was gone. Your brush, your blankets. Each missing item was a knife in his heart.

“Little bird?” He called out, holding onto a shred of hope before noticing a note on the bed. His red eyes narrow, stepping softly toward it.

And the words are enough to make him ball the note into a crumbled mess, and throw it against the wall with a snarling yell:

Sylus,

I don’t know how to write this. But as the weeks have passed since you met my doppelganger, I’ve realized there’s really nothing I can do to compete with myself. I thought our history was enough -- but I guess I can’t win against fate. My only wish is you would have let me know before I dug my claws in.

Like you’d know, my dragon, it hurts to pull them back out. And it hurts even more to see the open wound I left -- I am not sure if it will stop bleeding out.

Take care of yourself,

Your Little Bird

Y/N

The words you wrote echo in your voice in his head. He could see the teardrop stains marking the paper. Little scratch marks -- like you hesitated. And he’s hit with the feeling -- maybe if he’d just answered sooner, he could have stopped this.

And -- how stupid could he have been to pay so little attention that he missed your anniversary? And how stupid was he for still feeling conflicted about Miss Hunter?

But the strongest feeling was this: he needed to see you again. The possibility of not seeing you again… that was enough to make him never visit Linkon again.

* * *

It’s been two weeks since you left. You weren’t from the N109 Zone and you weren’t from Linkon -- so he’d crossed that off his list. But you weren’t in your hometown either. Sylus rode his motorcycle through your old stomping grounds -- and it brought him some comfort to be here. In your home -- since you’d fled the one you’d shared together.

His phone rings -- Miss Hunter.

And surprisingly -- he doesn’t answer.

Because a better notification comes up from Luke and Kieran.

“Hey, Boss! We’ve got sightings of Madam over in Brighton,” they say, happy to give him some sort of good news. Because the last few weeks -- Sylus has been downright vicious in his hunt to find you. To tell you sorry.

“Brighton? Interesting. Send me the coordinates,” he says. The location is a cafe. It’s filled with books, magazines-- all your favorites. That part made sense. There’s slight relief in his thoughts. Knowing where you were was better than not knowing. If you were in Brighton, then you were probably safe. Alive. And not under Ever’s thumb somewhere.

You’re safe. That’s what matters. That’s what he keeps telling himself as he watches you laugh at a cashier’s statement —like nothing is wrong, like the past two years meant nothing. You’re alive. You’re fine.

But the longer he looks -- it’s enough to make him murderous.

It’s the cashier you’re speaking with. You’re laughing…you’re happy. ayou hadn’t smiled like that at him since Miss Hunter arrived… Realistically, anyone could say it was innocent, but now --

He should be the one making you laugh. He should be the one paying too. Jealousy doesn’t come easy to Sylus -- but right now -- he’s understanding how you felt the last few weeks with Miss Hunter. But unlike you -- he thinks to himself as he puts the kickstand on his bike down -- he’s not afraid to step in.

If you thought two years would disappear like that -- you’re wrong. And he’ll prove it. (He has to.)

Please like/reblog for part 2! I am not sure how much I love this or not yet, so let me know if you do. Comments are appreciated but not required. 🫶🏻

[igotanidea]

My level of messy: Jason Todd x reader

„What are you doing?”

A simple question dictated by unusual circumstances.

Any other Saturday morning, Y/N would be all over the place, huffing and puffing, cleaning the dust, vacuuming and doing all the things that usually came with weekly cleaning up the place.

That day, however, she was sitting on the couch, with something in her hands, looking –

Well it was hard to put it into words.

So he didn’t, instead plopping next to her, sending her a few inches up due to the impact.

“I’m re-reading my old journal.”

“Ok.” Jason nodded. The silence that fell after that acknowledgment was his attempt at giving her a chance to elaborate. “Aaaaaand? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying!”

“Mhm. Same accusation, same answer every time.”

“I am not-“

“Y/n/n, we’ve been through it a million times before.” He rolled his eyes “save us both some time sweetheart, and explain it, so I can make it better for ya, huh?”

“You’re gonna laugh-“

“Mh. Yeah. Sure. I’m gonna laugh at my soon-to-be-fiancé watering her eyes out. This is how big she thinks of me. That’s just effing great!”

“Stop being dramatic and – wait. Whoa, whoa. Hold back. Rewind. Soon-to-be-fiancé?”

“Not the point. Why are you crying?”

“I’m not-“

“Ah!” Jason groaned and before she realized what was happening she was being held down on the couch, with him hovering over her like a freaking predator with dangerously glistening eyes, tickling her side.

“Jason!”

“Talk or I’ll hold you captive forever.” His fingers were mercilessly rubbing her side making her giggle.

“But I am literally not crying now!”

“Talk!”

“Will you let go first?”

“No.”

“But-“

“Talk!”

“God!” she groaned, trying to wriggle and make herself a little more comfortable

“I mean it, princess, talk or-“

“You do realize your threats have no effect on – AAH! Ah! Stop! Fine! Fine, I’ll talk, just stop tickling!”

“Good girl. Now – what is the reason behind you trying to make yourself unhappy huh?” he brushed away tears from her cheeks, helping her sit up, now having made sure she won’t deflect anymore.

“It’s just – “ she sighed “do you ever feel like hugging your younger self?”

“Hugging my-“

“Don’t look so shocked. Do you? Actually, you know what, do not answer that question, it’s stupid-“

“Yeah.” He cut her off with one word, letting himself be vulnerable for a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do feel like – well – maybe not hugging but at least saying some nice shit to that rascal.”

“Right…”

“I see a piece of my past self in every kid I stumble upon in the Crime Alley.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Big bad red hood getting all emotional. See what you did to me?”

“Well, for the record, it’s your fault. We were talking about me and then you just hijacked the conversation, acting like you’re a victim or something – “

“You’re so selfish, did I tell you that?”

“Not today, no.”

“Well, you’re selfish princess.”

“I am but a lady in distress and you refuse to help a lady in distress with offering a strong arm.”

“I’m not prince charming, Y/n/n. I am Red Hood.”

“You could be a red prince charming?”

“If you’re hinting at Deadpool, then let me tell you not a benchmark when it comes to Disney princes.”

She laughed softly, her mood becoming a little better, just by this banter, any outside would deem mean and harsh on both of their parts.

“Fine. Fine, have it your way” he raised hands in surrender. “What were you crying about – oh, wait, you call me inconsiderate but I think I actually did ask you that before-“

“I can’t remember.” She chuckled.

“You can’t remember why you were crying?” Jason frowned a little, sensing some sort of trap

“Yes.”

“Um… no?”

“Um… is this one of those situations when you pretend to have temporary sclerosis and then remind me of the tiny mistake I made a year ago on Monday, at 11.25?

“No!” she chuckled again “No, I’m being serious, I can’t remember. Wanna know why?”

“Because every time I feel down and like I’m a mess you come around and – “

“- prove to you that there’s a whole other level of being a mess?”

“NO!” she patted his chest in mock offense “will you let me finish the sentence!”

“Stop this domestic violence at once, young lady.” Her wrist ended up in his grip and away from any possibility of him getting abused again.

“- you come around and you prove to me that all you need in life is a person who matches  your kind of messy and crazy.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s called a partner in crime-“

“Ugh! You’re so dense! This is a whole different thing!” she opposed, becoming a little agitated, missing the obvious point that Jason was just messing with her in sheer selfish pleasure of seeing her eyes sparkle with mirth and her cheeks flushing.

“Y/N.”

“Why can’t you just understand that I’m trying to say—”

“I get it”

“No, no you don’t!” she wriggled against his hold

“Hey! Hey, stop it! Stop! Look at me!” his hands moved from her wrist to cupping her face. “I get it. Really. I know what you’re saying and I think –“

“Yeah?” she looked deep into his eyes.

“I think you’re my kind of mess too. And I think we match.”

“Like on Tinder?” she grinned pushing her luck

“God you’re impossible!!”

Yeah. So maybe it truly was about finding and keeping the person who was on the same level of craziness. The one who would understand that sometimes, healing trauma was about laughing at it and finding a way to move on with that laughter on the lips.  

[babytomatoes21]

WHERE DID YOU GO? - m.s.

wc: 1.3k cws: swearing, angst, death, car crash, self-blame

"where did you go? I should know, but it's cold, and I don't wanna be lonely, so show me the way home. I can't lose another life."

matt wakes up to sunlight streaming through the window, the warmth on his skin, and he stretches, feeling the familiar stretch of his muscles. he checks his phone—nothing urgent, just the usual. he scrolls through his messages, barely reading them, when he hears your laugh in the kitchen, that soft sound that always pulls him back from the fog of sleep, grounding him.

he grins to himself, rolling out of bed and pulling on his hoodie. he’s late, but it doesn’t matter. not today. today feels good, like everything’s just right. he’s ready to face whatever comes next, but for now, he’s content to be in this moment.

he stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, and there you are—making breakfast, humming along to whatever song’s playing softly on the radio. you turn to him with that smile, the one that never fails to make his heart skip a beat, the one that makes him feel like everything’s going to be okay. “hey, sleepyhead,” you tease, voice light and playful. “you’re really gonna stay in bed all day?”

“i wish i could,” he mumbles, half a smile forming on his lips. “you know i’m not a morning person.”

you laugh, pouring him a cup of coffee as he leans against the counter, still a little out of it. “i know, baby,” you say, the warmth of your voice making everything feel even more real.

he chuckles, shaking his head, his eyes still half-lidded from sleep but full of love as he watches you.

“breakfast looks good,” he says, his voice still a little groggy but full of affection. the familiarity of it all—the way you move around the kitchen, the way you make everything feel like home—is the kind of comfort he never wants to let go of.

you smirk. “don’t sound so surprised. i’m a natural at this shit.”

“alright, kid, i’ll believe it when I taste it,” he grins, his voice teasing, and there’s a hint of playfulness between the two of you that makes his heart swell.

you hand him a plate, and with a grin, nudge him toward the table. matt takes it, but there’s something about the way he watches you—his eyes soft and filled with an unspoken kind of love, the way you move around the kitchen like it’s the most natural thing in the world, that makes him feel at peace. everything’s perfect, the kind of perfect he didn’t even know he was looking for.

you sit down beside him, casually leaning your head on his shoulder, the simple touch making him feel like the world could end and he’d still be okay as long as he’s with you. the world feels right.

but then, something shifts.

it’s subtle at first. a slight tension, almost unnoticeable. you stand up to grab something from the counter, but when you pass the doorway to the living room, matt catches it—a brief pause. your shoulders tense for just a moment, like you were about to stop yourself from doing something. then, as if nothing happened, you keep walking.

“you good?” matt asks, his voice soft but full of concern, his brow furrowing as he watches you carefully.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say with a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. matt notices it, but he doesn’t push it. he figures you’re just tired, or something’s on your mind. he lets it go.

maybe you’re just tired. maybe you’ve got a lot on your mind. it’s nothing. he brushes it off.

but then, the silence. and the doorbell rings.

matt raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t think much of it at first. probably just a delivery guy or someone dropping something off. you get up to answer it, and when you reach for the door handle, you stop again.

“hey, i’ll be right back,” you say, your voice light, like everything’s fine. “just gotta grab something real quick.”

“okay,” he replies, not thinking much of it. he watches you walk toward the door, then grabs his phone, still distracted, scrolling through it absentmindedly.

and then you’re gone.

at first, matt brushes it off. maybe you ran into chris or nick outside. maybe you’re just going to pick something up, nothing big. no reason to worry. it’s fine.

but then, time passes. minutes. then hours.

he checks his phone, expecting a text from you any second. nothing.

the unease grows. he brushes it off playing fortnite, but even that can’t distract him. the clock ticks on, and the weight in his chest starts to grow heavier. where are you?

he stands up, pacing around the room, glancing out the window like maybe he’ll see you walking down the street, like he’ll see your familiar figure appearing around the corner, everything back to normal. but no. he grabs his jacket and heads outside.

she’s fine. she’s fine. he tells himself that over and over, but the words feel hollow, like they don’t belong to him anymore. something’s wrong. he knows it. the feeling gnaws at him in a way he can’t explain.

he walks through the neighborhood, scanning every corner, every place you always went to. but nothing.

his steps slow as the weight of it settles into him, heavy and tight in his chest. something’s wrong. he doesn’t know how or why, but he feels it, deep in his gut. his phone buzzes, and he sees it’s chris calling.

he picks up without thinking. “hey, have you seen her? i don’t know where she is.”

there’s a long pause, too long. and then, chris’s voice comes through the phone, quieter than usual, like he’s trying to keep himself together.

“matt…” chris’s voice breaks slightly. “she’s gone.”

matt freezes. the words don’t compute. it’s like the world has gone silent, like there’s a wall between him and the truth. it doesn’t make sense.

“what do you mean?” matt’s voice cracks, panic rising in his chest. “what do you mean she’s gone?”

there’s a long silence on the other end of the line. then, chris’s voice is barely a whisper. “matt... it’s been two weeks since the crash.”

everything goes numb.

“what crash? no. no, chris, no. she—she’s fine. she was fine. we—i was just with her. she was right there—” matt’s voice falters as his chest tightens, the words stumbling out of him like they don’t belong to him.

“matt,” chris says gently, his voice laced with pain. “you need to stop this. you’re torturing yourself.”

the world around matt blurs. the phone trembles in his hand, but his body doesn’t move. everything is spinning, a whirlwind of disbelief and shock.

she’s gone?

his mind can’t make sense of it, can’t process the reality of it. it’s too much. too sudden. he thinks back to that night—the way the car swerved, the screeching of tires, how the steering wheel felt in his hands when he tried to stop, but nothing worked in time.

he remembers your face—alive, full of life, full of love—and how it all slipped away so quickly, how his world was turned upside down in a flash.

he stands there for a moment, frozen. everything around him feels distant, unreal. his hands tremble as he lets the phone fall to the ground. slowly, he sinks down to sit on the sidewalk. his eyes sting, but the tears don’t come all at once—they’re slow, like they’re waiting for permission. his chest feels tight, every breath a little harder to take. guilt eats at him, sharp and bitter, the crushing feeling that he couldn’t do anything to stop it. couldn’t keep you safe. it’s too much to hold, too much to make sense of.

he rocks back and forth slowly, hands scratching up and down his arms, leaving red marks. he digs his nails deeper until spots of bright red appear, but he can't feel anything. his bottom lip trembles as his breaths come in short gasps. he looks up, tears spilling down his face, searching for an anchor. anything.

it's his fault. he should’ve been the one to go. and he was never going to forgive himself.

a/n: my shaylaaa 🥀

tags: @mattswifeyy @courta13 @p3sthoe @ivysturnss

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws 💗

© babytomatoes21

[marixrose]

𝐀 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐨𝐦 — 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫

𝜗𝜚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬!! | fluff, romance

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 • After much convincing, Lucifer finally takes a break from his duties to go on a simple walk with MC through the Devildom. Along the way, he finds himself indulging in small gestures that reveal just how much she means to him.

────────୨ৎ────────

I stole a glance at Lucifer as we walked side by side through the softly lit streets of the Devildom. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself time away from his responsibilities, but after days of nagging—"encouraging," as I preferred to call it—I had finally managed to convince him to take a break.

And not just any break.

A date.

“You’re staring,” Lucifer said, his voice smooth and teasing, though he didn’t turn to look at me.

I grinned, swinging our joined hands slightly. “I was just thinking how nice it is to see you outside of the House of Lamentation without a stack of paperwork in your hands.”

Lucifer exhaled a quiet chuckle. “I will admit… it’s been a while since I’ve taken a proper walk through the Devildom like this.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I suppose I should thank you for insisting.”

“You definitely should,” I teased, earning a smirk from him.

The Devildom was stunning at night. The sky stretched above us in deep shades of violet and indigo, dotted with glowing orbs that hung like scattered stars. The streets were lined with lanterns, their eerie but mesmerizing blue flames casting soft shadows across the cobblestone. Demons bustled through the marketplace, their voices a mix of deep rumbles and light chatter.

I tugged at Lucifer’s hand excitedly. “Let’s look around for a bit!”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t resist as I led him toward a small shop displaying intricate trinkets and delicate jewelry. I glanced at him, expecting some remark about how these things were unnecessary, but instead, I caught him staring at something inside the shop window.

It was a hairpin—silver with a small gemstone embedded in the center, shimmering in a way that reminded me of the Devildom’s night sky.

Lucifer’s fingers lingered against the glass for just a second before he turned to me.

“This would suit you,” he said simply.

My heart did a little flip.

I blinked up at him. “Oh? Are you saying I should get it?”

A slow smile curved his lips. “No.” He let go of my hand briefly, stepping inside the shop. A moment later, he returned, handing me a small black box. “I’m saying I’ll get it for you.”

My breath hitched. “Lucifer…”

“You can consider it a gift,” he said smoothly, watching my reaction with quiet amusement. “Or, if it pleases you, a keepsake to remind you of tonight.”

I opened the box carefully, running my fingers over the delicate silver pin. It was beautiful. And the fact that Lucifer—of all people—had chosen it specifically for me made it even more special.

I looked up at him, my chest warm with affection. “Thank you.”

He hummed in satisfaction, pleased with my response. Then, before I could react, he plucked the pin from my fingers and reached toward my hair.

“Allow me.”

I stood still, my cheeks burning as his gloved fingers gently brushed through my hair, sliding the pin into place just behind my ear. His touch was soft, almost reverent.

When he pulled back, he studied me for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then—so softly I almost didn’t hear it—he murmured, “Perfect.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering.

Lucifer noticed my flustered expression and chuckled, taking my hand once more. “Shall we continue our walk?”

I nodded quickly, trying to will away the blush creeping up my neck.

As we strolled through the glowing streets of the Devildom, our hands entwined, I realized that Lucifer didn’t need grand gestures or extravagant words to show how much he cared.

Sometimes, it was in the way he humored my requests, in the way his fingers lingered against mine when he thought I wouldn’t notice.

And sometimes… it was in a simple silver hairpin, sparkling softly under the lantern light.

[aphroditeinthesea]

" hopelessly devoted to you "

jj maybank x innocent!reader

⚠️ swearing and mentioning of past sexual encounters

The party in some random’s house was getting stuffier by the second. You could hardly hear over the blaring music and could barely see through the clouds of smoke, let alone breathe. You had separated yourself from your friends to go to the bathroom but soon regretted it when you couldn't find a familiar face in sight. At last, you found a slight breeze from the open door. You squeezed your way out through people dancing and stumbling from their own intoxications.

You nearly slipped on sand that had breezed its way onto the front porch. You grabbed onto a railing to walk down the small stairs that led out. You walked over to a tree to lean against while you pulled out your phone to text any of your friends. You began typing something when you noticed faceless voices from the other side of the tree.

“Did you see JJ Maybank?” Your ears perked at the name of one of your closest friends being spoken by some girl you didn't know.

“No, why?”

“He was looking hot,” the girl’s voice slurred, “I hooked up with him last year, might need to again.”

The other girl’s voice chuckled, “I believe in you,” she said softer, clearly more sober, “but I thought he was dating that girl he’s always hanging with.”

“Kie?” Your phone was completely disregarded with a half written text on its screen as you stepped further back to try and hear them clearer.

“No, no, the other one,” the girl responded, “she’s like the prude one.”

Your stomach churned at the conversation. You. That’s how they described you. You were sure just mentioning your hair color would have suited just fine.

“Oh, her?” the drunker voice laughed, “even if he is, I don't think that would stop him.”

You found a pain in your stomach. Why would they think you two were dating? And why didn't they care?

You began walking away to the side of the house. You had a simple plan to wallow in yourself. You knew it was silly, but it couldn't help but bother you. Your heart was fucking stupid. That's what it was. When you first met JJ, that was one of the things most talked about him. He was serious about nothing. Not school, not his future, and not girls. But you couldn't help but sort of just fall.

“There you are,” the exact voice of pain sounded. You looked up to see him standing with the rest of the pogues, a blunt in his hand. He blew out a ring before he passed it to John B on his right, “where’ve you been?”

You leaned against the paneled wall, “around,” you shrugged, “needed some air.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “you alright?”

You quickly nodded, going stiff from his touch, “I’m fine.” Your arms crossed over your chest, “just tired.”

His thumb brushed the skin on your shoulder, exposed from your tank top, “I can walk you home if you wanna dip.”

“No, it’s okay,” you shook your head, “I’ll hang around for a little longer.”

“You sure?”

You nodded as you finally let yourself relax into his shoulder, “yeah, I’ll be fine.”

His arm around you tightened to keep you steady. “Let me know when you wanna go, I’ll walk you back.”

You hummed in agreement while you failed to notice the raised eyebrows at him from his friends. He waved them off with his free arm to get them off his back. Your tired eyes fluttered open when you heard the familiar laughter of the girls from before. You looked over to the source. One of the girls stumbled over towards your group while you subconsciously pressed yourself further towards JJ.

“Hey, Maybank,” she smirked.

“Uh, hey,” he nodded towards the girl. You watched her eyes pan over you briefly, making it worse. Like you weren't something she needed to worry about. Just the prude who hung around them.

She stepped closer, but just when she was about to try to say something, your voice found a quiet tone to speak up in.

“I’m gonna head out now,” you announced, standing up straighter. The girl glared at you and your timid voice. “Walk me home?” You asked, your doe eyes looking at JJ through your lashes.

He hesitated momentarily before nodding, “yeah, come on.” His arms traveled down to the small of your back to lead you away. He turned his head towards his friends, “see you, guys, later.”

They all waved their goodbyes to you and the blond boy as you turned around to wave back. You two made it to the sidewalk before he let his hand separate from your skin. Much to your disappointment.

“Did you know that girl?” You asked, your fingers nervously twirling in your hair.

He shook his head, “no, uhm,” he looked at his feet kicking small rocks on the concrete, “kinda.”

You turned your head up at him, “kinda?”

He looked at you finally, “well, we, I guess, we hooked up one time.”

“Oh,” you broke eye contact, “I heard her talking about you.”

“Really?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should even tell him, “yeah, she was saying she wanted to, you know..”

He laughed, “oh, wow.”

“Sorry about that.”

“About what?”

You awkwardly smiled, “cockblocking you, I guess.”

He chuckled and ran a hand over his face, “oh my God.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders again, “you did not cockblock me, y/n.”

You giggled, “you sure?”

“Yeah, I did not want to get with her again.” He let the words fall out of his mouth, ultimately regretting them.

“Oh.”

“I mean, I just,” he sighed, “I don't like her like that. It was just one time.”

When you were about to respond, you noticed your house in front of you. He let go of you so you could walk over to open the gate, “thanks for walking with me.”

He nodded, “anytime.” He smiled down at you, “get some sleep.”

You closed the white gate, leaning over it to press a lipgloss kiss to his cheek, “see you tomorrow, Jayj.”

His hand reached up to his cheek, just hovering over the stain without wiping it off, “see you tomorrow.”

You shyly smiled before turning around and walking down the stone path leading to your front door. You opened it as you partly turned around to see him making sure you got in safely. You held up your hand, your fingers waved goodbye to him before you walked in.

You closed the door and locked it behind you. You felt a smile making its stay on your face while you leaned against the white wood. You felt the way you always did after seeing him. You tried to tell yourself it was nothing, he’s just a good friend. But the butterflies wouldn’t fade away.

[vixen525noms]

Never Wear A Red Hood Around The Big Bad Wolf

A short story from one of my many universes about the origin of Little Red Riding Hood. A bit rough as my editor is currently unavailable.

Features: Soft Safe Vore, Misunderstandings, Adopted Sibling, Sibling Teasing

Alex ran his fingers over the scruff on his chin as he walked deeper and deeper into the remote woods. It was a shame he couldn’t grow a full goatee, but at least this looked good on him. You’d think he’d be more hairy, considering his natural form was an enormous wolf, but magic worked in mysterious ways. At least he had a human form… his grandfather and grand uncle did not. It was convenient for travel, meant human hunters wouldn’t mistake him for a dangerous animal, nor at full size see him as some horrible monster. Sure he could shrug off gunshots, but they still hurt. 

He continued through the woods, looking at the lush plant life around him. Once he passed into her territory, the plants always seemed more vibrant. He liked it, he was glad his little sister was flourishing way out here. She had gotten too overwhelmed in the city, too overwhelmed by the social behaviors of the werewolves he worked with. Made sense, foxes didn’t live in large packs like wolves. That had been the hardest part about taking in her after her parents were killed, kitsune and monster wolves had very different social structures. But his family owed her parents a debt, taking her in was the least they could do.

He could now hear hints of movement. She was definitely sneaking up on him to pounce. He’d seen her hunt rabbits and squirrels, she absolutely could move truly silent, but it seemed when she was pouncing for play she often got too excited and gave away her position. But he played along. Pretending he didn’t notice. He wondered if she’d pounce in fox form or her more human form. He heard footsteps… she was in human form. 

And there it was, arms wrapped around him from behind, the sound of three fox tails wagging. “Hey Avisia… it’s good to…” He paused as he turned to look at her and saw what she was wearing. “Avisia… what they hell is that?” He heard her laugh, “You like it? It was a gift. Some humans wanted safe passage through my woods, gifted me some tasty foods and this hooded cloak!”

Alex sighed, “Avisia, I told you before I hate red hooded clothing. Reminds me of that damn twisted story about me. Take it off or I’ll put you in time-out. I’ve warned you plenty before.” The young woman let go of her hug in a huff, “Maybe if you actually told me the story I’d understand. I found the human’s version of the story… but I wanna know what really happened.”

Alex sighed, “Fiiiine… but I’m turning back to wolf form to lay in the clearing. And you are taking that damn thing off.” He glared at her, relaxing more once she removed the hood and put the cloak over her arm, just wearing a simple tan dress. Alex started letting himself revert to his natural form. Fur covering his body, snout forming on human face, body morphing to move on four legs. But he kept his true size contained, remained only as big as a bear as he started walking. His sister walked along side him, and because she had listened and took the hood off, he figured he may as well tell her what really happened. “You’ve heard that silly ‘little red riding hood’ story… you probably came across it in one of the books in the house. But you also know me. That I don’t go around making a meal of humans. There’s a reason the tale ends with the grandmother and girl unharmed. But the whole thing was a misunderstanding and then that idiot hunter or woodsman or whatever made an exaggerated story of it.”

“The woods I was in that day were not so lush as these. More sparse, less underbrush, but a thicker canopy. Made them heavily shaded even in day. I was looking to get a deer to eat, when I could smell something unusual. Baked goods. I knew the area, so figured someone might be heading to visit an older woman, a healer and witch in the woods. I occasionally talked to her, and she had helped with some of the werewolves we work with, providing medicines to help them stay calmer. I was fond of talking to her. Figured if she might be having a visitor I would walk the trail to make sure it was still clear after the last big storm. So I followed along it, using the fact I am so large as a solution to moving any oversized tree limbs out of the main path.”

They had reached Alex’s favorite clearing and he sprawled out to enjoy the sun, closing his eyes as he continued the story for his sister, “When I neared the witch’s hut, I could see she was having some issues. Roof damaged, wall damaged, chimney damaged… so she was having to do her brewing outside since the fumes wouldn’t be drawn out properly. I lay down outside her gate to talk to her. Ask if she was staying warm enough with that kind of damage to her house and with her doing her brewing outside. She seemed well, but tired. I asked her about how things were going when we both heard something growling in the woods. We knew immediately what it was- a manticore. A tired old witch would not do well against a manticore… and what of her guest!”

“So I told the witch that if she trusted me, I could hide her in my stomach for safety while I drove away or killed the manticore, but only with her permission as I did not want spells slung at my stomach. She agreed, as it was the reasonable solution. But before I went to pick her up in my mouth, she told me she was expecting her granddaughter to visit, and asked me to keep her safe as well. So I ran down the path after swallowing the witch. When I reached the young woman in her red cloak, I lay down on the path in front of her. I tried to explain who I was to her. Told her to look, surely her grandmother had described me before. To calm down and listen to what I had to say. That we heard a manticore and if I didn’t hide her she may fall to its appetite.”

“The young woman was far more scared, but did hear of me from her grandmother. As I was trying to reassure her I saw the manticore stalking… I had no times for delay and… while I wish she had not gotten so scared as to scream, it was better that than risk the venom of the manticore’s tail. She may not have survived venom.” 

“So I turned to face the manticore. Tough bastards, especially since I wasn’t full sized because I hadn’t wanted to damage the forest. But after a few minutes I managed to nail a lethal bite on the manticore. As I tossed it aside and sat to catch my breath… I felt an axe hit my leg. Damn thing was enchanted so it hurt like a bitch. So in a foul mood I wrestled the axe away from the man and pinned him under a paw. Lectured him about how if I hadn’t just finished killing the manticore, he could have ended up killed by the beast for distracting me in such a way from the fight. He mentioned hearing someone scream, so I explained how as a creature of great and ancient magic, I could choose not to use biological functions so I could keep people safe.”

“Once I got out the witch and young woman, the witch explained I am an old friend of hers, and she had asked me for protection because she was too tired to fight a manticore with her magic at the moment. I had thought that was the end of it… until I heard that dang story circulating. To think! Claiming he felled and cut open the grandson of Garmr! Madness. But that is the story that went around, people thinking that us wolf monsters devour people. I mean Fenrir and Garmr might if someone pissed them off, but they mostly just want to co-exist in this new world they came to after Ragnarok. I wish the tales here better differentiated us wolves… and I certainly don’t like being called ��bad’ even if I am big. And don’t get me started on the pigs and goats things. Preposterous stories.”

With the story over he opened his eyes to glance at his sister… who was wearing the cloak again. “Really? After all that you put it back on? Keep it up and you are going in time out you brat. You are well past adult age for your kind but still act so… childish sometimes.” He was not surprised at all that Avisia stuck out her tongue. So he grew to larger size, tall as the trees themselves and snapped, catching her in his massive maw, although careful enough not to cause harm. 

He felt her claws dig into his tongue but he was not letting her out of time-out so easy. His tongue flicked to bap her on the head as she smacked at it. She had probably just been trying to get him to play at a smaller size but this… this time he was teaching her some things weren’t to be teased about. He knew she hadn’t truly meant ill by it, but she had never teased about something he was genuinely sensitive about before. He was sure she would apologize after he swallowed her, as that would make it very clear to her he genuinely was upset about this. But it was just a minor sibling quarrel… they’d be back to playing after he got in a nap to wind down.

After a few more licks with his tongue he swallowed her down. The playful baps and smacks stopped immediately, and as he expected she spoke immediately, “You… you really put me in here? Oh… I thought you were just teasing it like you usually do… I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it bothered you that much. When you get me out… you can help me collect blue plants so we can change the new cloak to purple instead.” 

Alex gave a soft sound to reassure her, “It’s okay Avisia. I guessed you hadn’t realized I was genuinely upset. After a rest I’ll get you back out. But for now let’s just wind down a bit.” He heard a faint yawn, “Yeah, a nap isn’t a bad idea.” He felt the faint movements of his little sister getting comfortable and he settled in to nap as well.

Unfortunately his nap was interrupted after a time, a message from his grandfather. A request… go locate a friend of theirs to invite on a special, somewhat urgent trip. They had located something important and didn’t want anyone to know they had found it before they made their move. But Garmr and Fenrir, the wolves of destruction, had made a friend… and wanted to invite him. Alex was not so destructive as those two, so he hadn’t been as fond of the new friend. 

Alex could not travel between worlds himself, he had not gotten magic like that from his kin… but he could tap into his sister’s wild and untamed magic and guide it with his own. Careful weaving of energy… he knew any other kitsune he’d never pull this off with, but Avisia trusted him fully, so gave no resistance to him drawing out some of her magic to weave. The rip, the tear in the very fabric of reality opened before him and he stepped through to go extend the invitation to this friend of his family. Then he could nap with his sister again.

[hwastarxo]

Hongjoong x GN reader

summary : GN reader reaches a low point in their mental health, and starts to take it out on themself and try to find an escape. eventually trying to attempt. Their boyfriend Hongjoong helps them work through things and get the help they need.

word count : 1387

genre : Angst, Comfort and Fluff

warnings : mentions of $H and urges, su1cide attempt and su1cidal thoughts

note : All reblogs/comments/reads/hearts are appreciated and I thank you for any of it ! if you have any feedback or thoughts I would love to hear 💗

this is a rewriting of multiple works of mine that were kinda shit :P and this is based on my own experience i had a couple months ago so i’m glad to finally outlet it and make light of it somehow :3

You tried your hardest to push through it.

The stress of everything in your life went from a small pressure, to a huge hurdle, doing simple things like even showering or brushing your teeth felt like a milestone impossible to reach.

You constantly changed the date, postponing the day you’d finally have the guts to finish it off.

It was nice looking for reasons to keep going, even with as little reasons as there were.

You couldn’t admit the real thing keeping you back was fear.

What if it didn’t work? What if you got hospitalized? Before, you were very afraid of death, even staying up at night trying to stop it from somehow happening randomly, but now?

You just crave it.

You know deep down you don’t really want to die, you just want to live a little less.

If you do this, won’t it make things better?, You thought to yourself.

Your struggle will finally be taken seriously.

The days turned into weeks, you gave up on the plan, just constantly remembering in the back of your head, the tools kept in the drawer, the items you planned to use.

You needed the right time, you didn’t want to make anyone worried.

Shortly but surely, the time had come, it wasn’t as planned as before, it was a spur of the moment thing.

The cuts littering your arm and thighs weren’t enough anymore, you needed something harsher, to get rid of the pain.

After you scrimmaged through the drawer in the corner of your room.

You finally grab the small bag of pills you stole, you were worried they wouldn’t be enough to do the job, but also fed up and just wanted to get it over with.

You sat on the bed, with the bag sitting right next to you and a bottle of water. “So this is it”, You thought to yourself, taking the pills one by one, throat feeling iffy after so many pills back to back, you wanted this yet felt so anxious right after.

Brain filled with regret, worry, panicked all of a sudden.

You wanted to die, but how can you be so afraid of death when it meets you?

You stayed awake for hours worrying, until you finally got the courage to go to sleep.

Waking up, it wasn’t enough pills, “how stupid”, You thought to yourself.

You worried so much just for nothing to work, You went on with your day in a bittersweet manner, maybe the pills needed more time to kick in?

Then as the day passed, you noticed the pills starting to take effect.

You couldn’t eat, you felt like throwing up.

“Am I okay?”

Your worry kicked in again.

You wanted this to be painless, so why is it hurting so much in every way?

You wish you listened to the warnings you got when doing your research.

Awake at 3:00 AM, looking up “Painless ways to die”, shortly to find out there’s little to no options.

Desperate is what describes you.

You were desperate to finally escape, you didn’t think of the little details enough, you didn’t think much at all.

Your stomach was in large amounts of pain, laid in bed wondering when it would stop, until you finally started to gag, and gag.

Your body finally threw up, sadly getting all over the sheets and covers, “Fuck, i’ll have to wash them”, You thought to yourself, the vomit up poured out of you, the remainders of the pills leaving your sickly body.

The dirty sheets staring at you was a dark reminder of what was done.

The worst part is you didn’t get what you wanted at all, none of it went your way as always.

No one cared, no one even noticed, you didn’t die, you didn’t get hospitalized, you didn’t even get one of those get well soon cards.

You simply don't mean enough to anyone to get things like that, You remind yourself of that all the time.

It somehow still hurts when that dark reminder comes back to you every time again.

You vowed to yourself from then to either get better completely.

Or to let yourself get completely worse.

You tiredly try to pull yourself up to somewhat function, it’s hardly working.

You should be happy, you're clean from self harm for over a month now, but why are those thoughts coming back?

You lack a reason to really start again, you grimace every time you see the white lines on your thighs, so why does it feel like the razor is calling your name?

You think about how it made you feel then, a little bit less alone, how relieving to have something to take your pain out on, you missed that.

Looking at the I Am Sober app on your phone, the “Congrats on staying clean!” message pops up and feels like a slap in the face.

Eyeing the razor sitting near the bathtub and then holding it in your hand.

“Have all these months been worth it? Am I worth it? What's wrong with me?”

The thoughts pour out as you quickly make the irrational decision that started it all.

“No, no, no, no!, what did I do?”

panicking as the cut was deeper than intended, not sure what to do, You pulled your pants up and quickly ran out the bathroom.

As you walked out, your boyfriend Hongjoong eyed you and quickly noticed the blood seeping through your sweatpants.

Hongjoong: Baby! What happened to you?

He quickly rushes to help, thinking it’s a small injury.

“I’m sorry, i messed up joongie”, You cried.

Hongjoong sits you down and grabs a first aid kit, as he rolls up your sweatpants leg, he realizes what happened, the other scars littered across your leg shining boldly, and dried blood from the recent cut.

Hongjoong doesn’t know how to react, so he focuses on cleaning it up and putting a bandaid on, after he finishes he pulls you into a deep hug.

“I didn’t mean to go that deep” You plead

Hongjoong: It’s okay, I'm here, gonna get you the help you need.

”But- Joongie, I don't feel like I deserve help, I did this to myself”

I'm worthless.”

Your deepest insecurities are finally on full display to him.

Hongjoong: It’s not your fault baby, you’re so much more loved than you realize, it’s gonna get better, I’ll be right here to help you through it.

I-I'm not here to judge you, I don’t fully understand it myself but, i wanna see you happy. I wanna see you get better and I'll do what I can to get you there.

Hongjoong’s voice breaks up as he tries not to cry while speaking.

“I’ll go clean up and get the razors thrown away, just get some rest for now, we can talk more about getting you in therapy in a minute. And I love you, okay?”

“Don’t forget that, don’t let the stupid voices in your head even try to convince you otherwise, I love you so much and I always will.”

“This doesn’t make me see you any different at all, the scars are just part of your story, a small chapter in the book.”

“It’s gonna get better, I promise you.”

Hongjoong mutters, his lips quiver as he holds the tears back.

He rubs your back while hugging you the whole time as he speaks, offering you the comfort you deeply craved.

You silently nod and accept this new step in your recovery journey.

[nottheemuse]

The idea of something more impressive was hard to wrap her mind around, and as soon as she thought she was close to figuring even a piece about him out, he said something like that, so casually reminding her how much she still had to learn. The mention of a trip was bittersweet - she had already cancelled her flights to Beijing, just needed to cancel a few tours still - though the thought barely registered as a flicker on her face, easy enough to let go as soon as it had come. The reason was worth everything to her, after all, and she was settling into the thought that finally going would be as simple as asking Declan for it. And maybe that wasn’t so bad. 

She was distracted by the way he shepherded up the stairs, through the interior, being so painstakingly careful with her. Sitting, she tilted her head, just barely, studying his face as he clipped her belt, murmuring another soft, “Thank you.” As Declan settled in next to her, she turned her attention  to the attendant, giving a polite smile, and a soft nod when the woman glanced at her. His hand on her leg sent a shock through her system, like a little bit of a reset, and she let out a soft sigh, dropping a hand to his arm, brushing his fingers against the fabric of his jacket.

“They were the best option I had.” Vintage, dark-washed denim that hugged her curves. She’d dug them out of a box of her things in the garage. In an effort to something a little more feminine on for him, she’d paired them with a ribbed heather gray, cashmere sweater.  “My packing job was a mess.” A soft admission of her emotional state when she’d left, trying to admit that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. How could she have been? How could she ever think that leaving had been the answer? “It won’t happen again, I promise.” A gentle tease, grinning as the hand on his arm stilled. It never took much from him to shift her frame of mind, and after what felt like so long away from him, the deep desire for him that burnt in her belly was already there, bright and undeniable. She was in no rush, though, waiting for his direction, trying her best to restrain herself. “I’ll take ‘em off whenever you’re ready, Master.”

It was a cute little response as she exited the rental car, somewhat unexpected, but for once not a surprise he minded. "You're welcome, darling." His thumb grazed her knuckles, lips twitching with dry amusement at the little whistle she let out then. His eyes cut from the plane to the lips that particular sound had emerged from, a subtle arch in one brow. "No, I don't imagine you would have." He gave a nod towards the jet. "This is just the small one, though technically I suppose it would be considered mid-size," He then told her, not even an ounce of boastfulness in his tone; it was just him relaying facts. "It's far more convenient for shorter trips and smaller landing strips. When I take you on a real trip though," The full weight of his gaze settled back on her, "It will be in something far more impressive than this." And then he smiled at her, a gentle curve to his lips, warmth in the set of his eyes.

Then he raised her hand to his lips and gave the back of it a little peck, before steering her towards the stairs leading up to the plane's entrance. Guiding her in front of him, he urged her up, following directly behind her, both hands on the rails to safeguard in case she stumbled on the way up.

Inside the plane, Declan placed a hand against the small of her back, he guided her past a small tea kitchen. Then past four wide single seats angled a little towards the middle. Past that, an arrangement of two more seats facing each other along one side, and a couch along the other. At the end was a single door with a restroom symbol painted on it. "Sit," He spoke softly, directing her onto the couch, before slipping the seat belt across her hips, clicking it into place for her. Then he sat beside her, and buckled himself in. To the suit-clad the woman who'd followed them into the plane, and who now stood waiting patiently, he gave a nod. "You can let Hawthorne know we're ready for take-off." She delivered a bright, pretty smile in response, a "Very good, sir," falling easily from her lips before she turned to do as directed. Declan stopped for with one final comment though; "- And Louisa, you can stay up there. We won't be needing your assistance during the flight." A nod of understanding, and a glance in Cora's direction - then she disappeared into the cockpit.

Declan placed a hand on Cora's thigh, a little bit higher than what one might consider innocent. Slipping his fingers towards her inner thigh, he turned his head to look down at her. "Jeans are a highly inconvenient choice of apparel, my darling," He remarked lightly, a hint of playfulness in his tone as the lights in the cabin faded and the the plane began to move, headed towards take-off.

[cafesweetvn]

I FINISHED THE ALTERNATE BAD END ROUTE!!! I STILL GOTTA FINISH THE OTHER BAD END(it’s basically the same thing just a little different!) AND THEN EVERYTHING ELSE I MENTIONED EARLIER!! I did also get TWO(technically three) cg’s planned out too for the bad end!! Gotta say, probably one of the most gruesome things I’ve EVER written before LMAOOO the word count is at 2904 rn!!

Also! I know I had planned for the demo to be a day and a half but I think I’m just going to make it a day and then heading into work the next day! This is basically my first project(I had barely had any ideas for pacing when it came to Mine so I wasn’t sure where to start) and so I don’t want to overwhelm myself! Speaking of days I haven’t really planned out how many days I wanted there to be, there will definitely be more then five days(I can’t make a short story to save my life) I’ll get to a rough outline of events and routes after I finish writing/release the first day!

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

If you’re interested, here’s more fluff! Calling the Squid Game men some weird petnames and their reaction to it!

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an “yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument pt.3

pt.1 pt.2 character: Caleb note: not proofread. haven't played the game since he came out so he might be a little oc

Caleb’s mind is simple: you being away from him means he can’t protect you from any possible danger. He is overprotective to the point it disturbs you and sometimes you think if it was up to him he would tie you to his side so you never leave his sight. Because you’re the safest by his side right?

Considering his possessive nature towards you, you can imagine the intensity of arguments between you two. The problem is, he doesn’t see how he’s wrong. You’re a professional hunter? You’ve lived for years without him? You’re one of the best at your dangerous job? falls on deaf ears and right now you’re so so close to strangling him. Instead, you turn around and go to your bedroom to get a blanket and pillow, because sleeping beside this obstinate asshole is the last thing you want tonight. after a minute you can sense Caleb’s presence. He yawns as he leans against the doorframe

“Whatcha doin’ pipsqueak?” His question is playful

“Oh, I’m pipsqueak again”

Caleb laughs at your sarcastic answer which earns your glare, making him mumble “Still mad I see” under his breath. Silently, you wonder if he is bothered by the argument at all. You gather everything in your arms and walk to the door and as you pass him he grabs your shoulder from behind and drapes himself over you.

“A little bit dramatic don’t you think?”

“You’re heavy, you asshole”

You grumble as you try to shrug him off but he won’t budge. Quite the opposite actually, his arms are wrapped around your shoulders tightly with his face in your neck.

“Can’t handle it? I thought you were a strong girl.”

“Do you, really? Because you act like I’m made of glass”

“Well, not glass. More like-”

You try to smack him but he moves his head to avoid it and laughs, instead catching your wrist and placing a kiss on your pulse point. Even though the gesture makes you blush, you snatch your hand back and accidentally hit his metal arm, causing you to hiss at the pain. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow as if saying ‘See?’ which makes you more furious.

He starts to say something but you interrupt.

“Let me go, Caleb. I’m mad at you and don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you”

“No”

“No?”

“Gotta keep you away from your thoughts, pipsqueak. What if you decide you want to leave me or something because of this stupid argument, hm? What then?”

You fall silent for a moment because you need to get this straight. So, he thinks that after he ‘died’ and you mourned him, thinking about him almost every day, years later you find out that he’s alive and is doing everything to keep you close, you will leave him because of an argument? Now, you doubt his sanity. On the other hand, Caleb takes your silence as a bad sign and starts panicking.

“Pipsqueak? Come to bed, please. And we can do whatever you want tomorrow. I’m yours the whole day- Hey, I’ll make braised chicken wings. You still love them right? Or whatever you want, you name it…” When he gets no answer, he drops his head on your shoulder, giving up “Okay, if you really don’t wanna sleep beside me, I’ll take the couch, just, please sleep in the bedroom.”

Finally, you sigh and lean your head against his chest.

“You won’t drop this, will you?”

He smirks because he knows you. He knows you want to give into him but your pride won’t let you. So you try to blame him. Make it look like, you don’t have a choice, so you don’t feel bad about yourself. But he’ll take it. He’ll take all the blame and allegation if it means you’ll stay with him.

“Not a chance” his voice is muffled against your neck as he pecks it, before removing himself from you and leading you back to your bedroom.

“I don’t think you’re made of glass,” he tells you when you’re both lying down on the bed and you place your head on his chest, in return, he wraps his arms around you.

“Hm?” you’re confused before you remember your earlier statement

“I don’t think you’re weak. The opposite actually, I think you’re very strong I just… I worry about you, I can’t help it. So what if you’re one of the best hunters? you’re not immortal. And when I think that there’s even the slightest chance that I might lose you again… I won’t be able to take it. So all this overprotective act is also for the sake of my sanity.” He laughs humourlessly in the end.

You raise your head to look at him. He’s already watching you with adoration behind his purple eyes. You brush the strands of hair from his forehead and place a kiss on his lips.

“I won’t leave you” You kiss the corner of his mouth “You’re crazy if you think leaving you has even crossed my mind. Now that I have you back? You’re stuck with me as much as I am with you”

There’s a faint smile on his lips as his eyes run over your face.

“Goodnight, pipsqueak"

“Goodnight, Caleb”

You both fall silent as you lay back down on his chest. However, the silence is broken by you.

“You’re making braised chicken wings for me, tomorrow”

“Absolutely” he agrees with a silent chuckle.

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”

[euthymiya]

The heater’s out. December’s cold is unforgiving as it seeps between the cracks of your doors and through the windows, forcing you to huddle closer.

Sukuna grunts as your freezing, icy feet press against his calves. “Your feet are fuckin’ cold. Get’em off.”

“No,” you whine, “You’re warm.”

Just to prove your point, you press them harder against his skin, making him hiss in irritation. “Quit it! It’s fucking freezing.”

“Yeah? Why are you wearing nothing but boxers in this cold, then?” You challenge, raising a brow as if you’ve sufficiently turned the tables on him. He glares at you—a bit cutely at that, given that his tussled hair and the blanket tucked beneath his chin both make him look far less intimidating than he hopes.

He pulls his legs away as he mutters, “Because I’m too used to sleeping like this.”

Your feet follow them as they move away from you, pressing them against his heated skin once more stubbornly. “To used to what, sleeping half naked? I wonder what that says about you.”

Money has been tighter. Enough that when you and Sukuna shower together, it really is to save water and not as an excuse for…well, other things. You don’t buy your little goods from the bakery on your way home sometimes anymore. He doesn’t go through his cigarette packs as quickly when stocking up on more isn’t as simple as it used to be. Things aren’t as easy as they used to be, but never hard.

It’s never hard with Sukuna.

Sure, the heater’s out. And December feels like a harsh, unrelenting reminder of that. The apartment is cold, but Sukuna is warmer, so maybe, when you count your blessings, you’re not doing all too bad.

“We should get the damn heating system fixed,” you say softly, smiling as he curls under the blanket further. He glowers over the edge of the comforter, just the tip of his nose peeking out as his muffled reply comes.

“Yeah, as if I hadn’t already thought of that. We ain’t got the funds, idiot.”

“Maybe I can pick up a few more shifts,” you murmur. He frowns at that—because really, that means more late nights where you’re not home where you should be. Safe and sound and not out there.

“Nah,” he mutters, clicking his teeth. You fight back a grin as he pulls you closer and tangles his legs with yours, grimacing when your painfully icy toes torment his poor legs again. This time he lets you, though. “I’ll figure something out.”

“That’s okay. You should use your money to get some clothes, or something. Sleeping naked in winter is not doing you any favors,” you giggle cheekily.

He raises a brow—that familiar, smug, almost nauseatingly handsome smile erupts across his lips as he chuckles lowly. “Yeah? You’re sayin’ you don’t appreciate the view?”

“Well, I guess that would be a pretty harsh loss,” you sigh deeply, pretending to wipe a tear. He rolls his eyes. You wink slyly. Heat trickles along your body from under your ribcage where the heating system could never reach.

“Cheeky, aren’t you?” He says gruffly, and a large hand comes to grab your face gently and press your cheeks together. Your puffed up lips make him crack a small smile.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning (as much as you can through squeezed cheeks) before offering a muffled reply of, “I keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

“More like on my deathbed,” he snorts.

You don’t answer—it’s too cold to think of a reply right away.

You let out an involuntary shiver as a small wave of frigid, chilly air breezes through the room. You shuffle closer, and his arms are wide and open and waiting. He smells like cologne and coming home. Feels like warm flesh and your favorite place. You lean in and kiss him to share your body heat, pressing your lips against his and letting his tongue invade your mouth briefly. He tastes like mint mingled with cigarette smoke and oddly enough, that’s all you need.

“We kind of suck at this adulting thing,” you whisper as you pull away.

“What gives you that idea?” He hums as rough, callused fingers stroke the skin of your back under your shirt. You shiver again—this time from heat igniting your skin instead of the cold, though.

“We can hardly afford to stay warm,” you shake your head, “What does that say about us?”

“That we’re victims of this stupid fuckin’ economy. They should compensate us for our suffering.”

You roll your eyes and grin. You’re cold, but not devoid of heat. Sukuna is warm, and so are your toes against his calves, and so is that place in your chest that happens to do a squeeze here and there. You think it might be your heart—think he may have found his way to that weird, necessary organ in your body that keeps you going. But the difference is now that he’s here, you’re alive and not just living.

And yeah, the heater’s out. December is as cold as it is every year, and nothing’s going to change that. You can’t make yourself warmer, but you can be cold with Sukuna. That’s more than enough to make things bearable.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you offer, batting your lashes sweetly. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his cheeks in a flurry of kisses.

His face does a small, red flush.

“Quit it,” he snaps. He doesn’t mean it because his arms grip your hips tighter as if to keep you firmly in place. Right there where you are and where you belong and where he needs you to be.

You shouldn’t be anywhere else but here, keeping his body warm in this sorely harsh weather.

“Why? It’s already working—you’re overheating,” you tease.

He pulls the blanket up and between your faces to create a barrier as you come in for the next kiss, and when you laugh, bright and warm, he forgets he was ever cold.

————————————

Wrote this bc my place is freezing. Not because the heater is broken though it’s just because I’m too lazy to get out of bed and turn the heat up so I am suffering the same problem yes, but I do have a solution. That doesn’t mean the solution will be used though. I fear I am but just a girl

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 8:46

“Do you have dimples?”

Bakugou doesn’t understand it himself, but you always find your way back to his house after your first visit—asking these out-of-the-blue questions that seem to have no end to them. It’s like a curse has befallen him, one that follows him wherever he goes.

For a moment, his eyes snap in your direction, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, though his intense glare never once wavers. He didn’t know what the hell you were getting at, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to even want to know why you were asking about something so random.

Honestly, he should be used to it by now. But the thing is, he isn’t, because sooner or later you’ll be popping out of nowhere with another of your pointless questions.

“Hah?”

“I asked, do you have dimples?” you repeated.

His eye twitches at the repeated question, and as much as he’d like to give you a snappy remark to get you to stop, he can’t seem to come up with one. So, for the time being, he decides to humor you (and hope for the best that you drop it and move onto another topic).

“Why the hell are you asking?”

“Because Kaminari and I made a bet whether you have dimples or not. I went with yes, you do have them—even if it’s a singular dimple, but Kaminari says otherwise,” you explained, tapping your finger softly against the coffee table.

He scoffs at the childish reason. “And what makes you think I do have one?”

“A hunch,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “I also have just one.” You smiled, showing off your obvious singular dimple on your right cheek.

Bakugou glances at your dimple for a brief moment, eyes scanning over your face and the way that the dimple seemed to perfectly dip into the soft skin of your cheek. He almost found himself entranced for a moment, but his gaze returned to your eyes as he huffed out in mock disinterest.

He was about to dismiss your hunch—maybe just flat-out refuse to even show you—or come up with a lie. But Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t a liar.

“What happens if you win the bet?”

“I get 3000 yen,” you answered.

That’s a lot, he thought.

“I can pay you 3000 yen to shut the fuck up and stop with the useless questions.”

“There’s no fun in that!”

He scoffs again as he leans back against the sofa, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at your stupidity. He eyed you for a moment, his head tilting to the side as he sighed. “And what happens if you lose the bet?”

“He gets 3000 yen.”

Bakugou almost wanted to laugh at the fact that you were putting so much faith and money on a simple guess, but he managed to hold back on the amused expression and forced himself to remain calm and unbothered.

He leaned back a bit more, relaxing against the plush seats, letting out a mocking “tch” before he said, “What if I don’t show you if I have a damn dimple or not?”

“Please? Oh my god, Bakugou. Don’t do this to me now! Kaminari’s going to do a ‘victory dance’ when he finds out he won by default,” you half-whined.

He was about to give you his final choice when suddenly you started whining at him. Bakugou rose an eyebrow at you, lips quirking to a frown. As idiotic as it is to him, it looks like it was quite a serious matter to you.

“Tch. Whatever.”

You threw your hands to your face, groaning. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top? Spare me some sympathy—and be a team player for once!”

He found himself fighting a scowl at the way you acted. It was somewhat different this time around, and it was making him feel weird. Damn it. You’re a goddamn nuisance.

“Alright, fine. Just—” He motioned with his hand for you to come closer, an almost annoyed expression on his face. “If you tell anyone else about this other than Dunce Face, I’ll make sure you don’t ever see the next sunrise.”

“That doesn’t sound heroic at all—but yes, of course!” you cheered. “Just a little smile, and I shall confirm the goods.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, already regretting giving into your stupid request but at the same time knowing that he would never let Kaminari win against you in all circumstances possible.

He let out a huff and hesitantly let the sides of his own lips quirk up into a half-assed attempt at a smile, but from the way it was so rigid, it looked more like a painful grimace.

You gave him a confused, somewhat flat look in return. “Dude, you look like you’re about to shit yourself—mmph! ” You didn’t get to finish what you were saying as Bakugou’s palms immediately squished your cheeks together to shut you up.

“Oh shut it, dipshit,” Bakugou grumbled, his grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly as he forced you to pout your lips. “You were asking for a smile. I give one, and you wanna give me smart ass remarks about it?”

“I didn’ even gwet toh shee anythin’! That’s how bwad ith was,” you muffled out through pouty lips.

“Are you gonna keep yapping and bitching about what you asked for, or are you gonna accept my goddamn smile?”

“Fine, fine!” you yielded, pushung his hands away from your face. “Do it one more time, and I’ll actually check this time.”

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he were wondering if you were going to actually do as you said or go against it and keep making smart-ass comments. But as you yielded, he let out a sigh and decided he’d rather just get this done and over with. 

Less hassle for him.

He repeated his ‘smile’ from before, which looked more like a forced sneer, and he waited for your verdict. This was his last straw; he was going to murder you (not).

You had to hold back your laughter but failed to do so. “I really can’t— Bakugou, please! ” you mused, hitting his shoulder playfully. “Your ‘smile’ reminds me of that time Kirishima had to hold the biggest shit before the bell rings.”

That caught Bakugou off guard. He remembered the memory of Kirishima’s panicked expression and the weird waddle he’d walked around in as he desperately tried to find a bathroom made Bakugou snort under his breath.

“Oh my god, you’re laughing!” you gawked. “And have a dimple! Just a singular one, like mine! We’re matching.”

There it was. A singular dimple on his left cheek.

Bakugou tried to regain his lost composure and let out a scoff in an attempt to mask the slight tint of pink that reached the tip of his ears. He forced his hand onto your face, shoving you (lightly, if he may add) away from him to prevent you from getting another look at his dimple.

“It’s not a worldwide discovery, dumbass. I can fucking laugh if I want to, and it’s just a fucking indent on the cheek.”

“Still cute,” you shrugged, pulling up your phone to text Kaminari. “I need to let Kami know that I won the bet, then we celebrate with bubble tea— my treat!”

“Hey wait— You—“

He tried to protest against your sudden celebration, wanting to tell you that he wasn’t going to let you treat him for anything. This whole damn thing started because of a stupid bet, and he doesn’t really find joy in gaining something from it, but as you pulled out your phone and began to text Kaminari, he sighed and leaned back again with his arms crossed tight against his chest.

“Whatever. You’re fucking annoying.”

“Kay,” you answered. “Also, your actual smile is pretty charming, if you ask me. It’s different from the usual sneer you have on your face. That’s just my opinion, though.”

Bakugou’s face grew a bit warm at your unexpected compliment, but he quickly tried to hide it and turned his head to avert his gaze away from you. His mouth opened to reply with a snappy remark or something like that, but he found himself hesitating.

He eventually scoffed and muttered a low, “Tch. Stop spouting nonsense.”

“Bakugou Katsuki has a singular dimple,” you sing-songed aloud, though you knew that no one would hear since his parents weren’t even home.

Bakugou felt his eyes twitch at your teasing, resisting the urge to tell you off and even going as far as to just punch your shoulder lightly. “Shut the fuck up, dipshit.”

He later found out that there was no bet, and you had just made up the whole scenario to confirm your curiosity. That Bakugou Katsuki does have a dimple, a singular one at that.

Could you imagine how furious he was?

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[abyssyby]

to be devoured, to be held

— a storm brews in your head as you grapple with the longing to take up a little more space in sylus’s life— would he mind?

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: something i conjured up @ 2am thinking about spending time with sylus fresh-relationship, when things are still a little fragile & a little unsure. struggling w this myself, to all who do— you are allowed to take up space. you are enough. fueled by the singular image of sylus chasing fingers with kisses. also!!! the free 5 star henckskd i canT WAIT 😫. enjoy! ❀-urs

sylus x reader | angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, self-conscious reader, overthinker sylus, longing, smoochie kisses, face masks!

Sylus is visibly busy. He doesn’t move much when he works, resembling more a statue really— one carved with passion and love, if you were to gush. 

Were it not for the rapid flickering of his eyes and the tack-tack-tack of his fingers on his keyboard, you’d wonder if he was even breathing. 

Your gaze lingers on the thin-framed glasses you gifted him, now perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t need them, you’d think regeneration would grant him immunity against mere blue-light, but he wears them anyway. A silent gratitude, a heart-fluttering token of you in all his endeavors. Your fingers itch to push them up just that little bit. 

But he’s busy. 

You linger by the door of his office. Meticulous as you take in the set of his jaw, the slight pout of his lips, the subtle crease in his brow and his soft, disheveled hair. You swallow down the burn to run your fingers through the cloud-like tufts and smooth them away from his forehead. 

He’s busy. 

“Sweetie.” You stiffen, pulled from the haze by low, thundering endearment. His eyes never leave the screen, his fingers never cease typing. But you know he’s got every intention of luring you in like a siren. 

“Mm?” you reply, clearing you throat. How you can make a simple hum so utterly pathetic, you’ve no idea. Your face heats, your scalp prickles. Your gut churns at how little of him it takes to undo you.

But he only smiles, just the slightest bit. Eyes require strain to capture its split-second existence. “Need something?”

Your eyes widen. Oh, the last thing you want is for him to think you’re insensitive and entitled enough to distract him. “No— no! I’m okay.” 

His brow raises. The clacking beneath his fingers is silenced. Once shifting eyes now focused on you. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “Yes. I’ll go.” 

You’re turning away before he catches a glimpse of the tingles you feel beneath your skin. You shouldn’t disturb him. He had come home late last night. Slipped into bed to hold you for an hour at most before you felt him drift away once more. Back into his office. To his very important schedule. 

The lump in your throat is remedied by a big gulp of water but the irritation for your self-pity is a fire you cannot easily douse. 

You should be grateful that he accepted you into his home for the holidays. Overjoyed that he’d become more comfortable with your intimate (albeit shy) advances like fingers caressing his own, and lips brushing on any exposed speckle of flesh of his you see. He always indulges you with a shudder and a controlled breath. 

Looks at you like you’d wronged him, like he’s piously holding back unforgivable sin should he touch you back. 

And yet, your chest aches at the lack of attention. You grind your teeth. Dramatically and truthfully, you’re starved, thirsty, and craving for his regard. But how greedy would you be to demand that of him.

Digging your nails in your palms, you relent. He has enough on his plate. He invited you in despite his work schedule. Because you insisted, asked, wanted. And now you must adjust. Be mindful. Behave.

The skin of your cheeks is agitated, you’re sure, when you run your fingers down your face. In hopes to silence a groan. Annoying. Can’t help but be. You’re annoyed— with him, with his work, with yourself for being annoyed. 

Not knowing that as soon as you fled from the threshold, Sylus was quick to stand and follow after you. Had it not been for the shrieking of his infernal phone, you’d be eating your words and thriving in your greed for him by now. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

In three hours, you’ve successfully explored the base in efforts of distracting yourself or making yourself useful— hit the underground gym, sketched the pristine dragon statue down the hall on a piece of sticky note, made an ice cream sandwich, taken a shower and applied your skincare. 

And he— he’d been standing from his desk every few minutes to look for you. But deals were falling through, there are new programs to be coded and all his men were apparently incompetent today. 

He caught glimpses of you— your hair disappearing around corners, your humming as you doodled and made snacks, your silhouette through fogged glass. But something always pulled him away— another problem, another issue, something infuriatingly needing his attention. 

And if he were just so terrible, he’d throw the entirety of Onychinus away just to join you in the shower. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The clay mask is tightening on your face when you exit the kitchen. Just beginning to crust at the edges, but goopy still. You might have mixed it wrong. The cucumbers you cut out rest on your cheeks for now, until you no longer need to navigate your way through the winding halls from the kitchen back to Sylus’s bedroom. 

A groan escapes your throat as you throw yourself into his plush mattress and silk sheets— knocking the breath out of you at the impact. Gravity pulls your spine down, pops each vertebra into place in a glorious melody of release. Then, you flip the cucumbers over your eyes and draw out a long, loud exhale.

Ten minutes, your app said, orange little happy face promising the silence of your thoughts. Ten minutes of focusing on your breath and your fingers and your toes and your skin. Ten minutes of listening to the sound of a ticking clock you otherwise would never have noticed. Of resisting the urge to twitch a muscle. Of constantly reminding yourself to unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders. Ten minutes of—

“A salad.” 

The bed dips on your side and your breathing— that you’ve been working so hard on— ceases. You feel his hot fingers on your arm, trailing, trickling down to your wrist and over your open palms. Drawing shapes. Making a home. “How appetizing.” 

You don’t need to remove your cucumbers to know the look he has on his face. Cocky, teasing and deep with that unspoken desire. “Got a moment away?” 

He hums. Fed up, he made one final call and warned his partners that if they did anything to disrupt his time with you again, heads would roll— or something along those lines. His phone rests ominously silent in his office. 

Yearning for him all day and finally having him, you are overwhelmed— his touch burns you, and you slip your wrist from his grasp without thinking.

He tries hard not to let that affect him. He is thankful for your lack of vision right now, because the scowl he gives you borderlines on homicidal. 

There is a cant to your tone— one you could not quite be rid of from your initial irritation despite it slowly fizzling away in his presence. One he bristles at. 

“You’ve had a lot on your plate.” you simply state, a supposed expression of sympathy. I feel bad for your workload, I’m sorry I cannot do anything to lighten it. 

But your lips had twitched, pressed into a firm line. This reads like criticism to him— You’d ignored me all day and now, now take this distance as consequence. He swallows. “I have.” 

You rise from your position. He’d laugh if he didn’t feel liquid dread swirling in his stomach now. You pulled away— you don’t want to be touched. Your tone— you don’t want to hear his excuses. He’d scorned you, and now knows not what to do with his lungs or limbs.

“Hungry?” you ask, a cucumber slipping down your eye to your cheek, finally revealing his perplexed gaze and— oh, no. He’s upset. Your mind connects it to your initial worries: of wanting too much, of clinging and pulling him away from the important things. And now he’s here, not there. Had he picked up on your discomfort? Were you so overbearing that he felt the need to check on you? You avert your gaze. 

“I— I made ice cream sandwiches.” because being useful right now seems like the best route. Offering him something he can take and consume for his benefit— that will soften the blow somehow. Make you worth his time. 

And he broods, swallowed in his own clouding thoughts, and follows you to the kitchen. “Alright.” 

The sandwich is a scoop of cookie dough squished between two graham crackers. You put a little mint leaf on top to make it look cute (Keiran commended this detail as Luke choked on it). 

You place it on a plate and serve it to Sylus quietly. 

He barely looks at it. No, he’s too busy, busy, busy with you. What you’re thinking; what you’re feeling. What you think— what you feel for him. “Sweetie—“ 

“It’s cookie dough.” you blurt to fill the deafening silence. Unintentionally loud, drowning out his gentle coaxing. “If— if you want vanilla, there’s vanilla. And, sorry, I don’t know if you like chocolate, but we have some. There’s strawberry too.” 

Sylus furrows his brows. Were you so upset that you didn’t want a word out of him? “Okay.” 

“Enjoy,” you say.

He frowns. “I will.” 

And as he eats, his gaze never leaves you. You in that ridiculous clay mask with cucumbers on your cheeks. In his shirt and your hair in a mangled twist. Your beautiful, divine self— upset with him.

Was it how he failed to approach you throughout the day? Was it something more specific? Something he said? The way he probed for your needs? How he didn’t look at you when you stood by his door? How he didn’t reach for you when you passed his office several times more?

He’d thought you’d wanted space. That you’d appreciate a day without his coddling and clinging, after being so ecstatic about you spending the holidays with him. He asked if you needed something, didn’t he? Asked and, inside, desperately wanted you to say ‘yes, you.’ But now… now?

“It’s delicious.” he finally comments. Shamelessly pushing, testing this boundary you seemed to have put before him. Ever so carefully. Not wanting to make it feel worse that it already does. He must show you how he appreciates you being here. 

“Oh?” 

“I’d like another.”

“Mm.” 

Shit. Has he miscalculated? “I mean… share one with me?” 

Your eyes widen. “Ah.” 

“Or, or not.” He’s fumbling. Tripping and falling over himself but who cares. He can’t take the bile rising up his throat with the way you look at him. Brows scrunched. Hesitant. Wary. It’s sending him into a spiral. “Just… sit with me, please.” 

The hoarseness of his voice is enough to make you soften. Something in you clicks, and your anxiety makes way for his. Work must have been a lot, you think. And he doesn’t deserve your insecurities getting the best of you when he needs you. 

You do as he asks once you take a strawberry sandwich out of the freezer and settle with your own fork. 

“The twins told me you liked strawberry best.” you start, voice now calmer than it was before. Returning like the gradual seeping in of the tide. Sylus— oh, Sylus revels in it quietly. “But I remember you snuck spoonfuls of my cookie dough from my fridge when you were at my place.” 

The acid neutralizes. “Oh?”

“And I thought,” he watches you take a bite, how your plump and shiny lips close around the fork. “What if that was another one of your cover ups? You are particular, yes, but never polarizing. 

“We had this whole debate on whether or not you’d like the strawberry more than the cookie. Luke was very adamant about you only having one favorite.” you cut another piece of the sandwich and bring it up to his lips. An offering. A truce. An understanding. “But if you’ve influenced me to be anything— it’s to be greedy.” 

He takes a bite from your fork. Curling his lips and dragging it over where yours had just been. He is zeroed in on your face, reading every tick, every twitch. And ultimately searching for any absolution. 

He catches your wrist, prays you don’t pull away, and removes the fork from your fingers in favor of his face. He presses his hard edges into the softness of your palm and closes his eyes at the contact. “Tell me what I did so I never do it again.” he breathes.

You frown, blindsided by this reaction— he’s… worried? Anguished and anxious because he thought he was at fault for something? “What?” 

He opens his mouth to explain again but you drag your thumb over his lower lip. He is compelled to silence. “I’m not upset with you.” 

He’s breathless. Clinging to your warmth. “Then what—“

 His lingering stare, almost a scowl, so focused on the micro expressions he cannot read. His sudden distance: a courtesy. It clicks— his upset really just… dejection.

Oh. 

He thinks you were punishing him. 

The thought slams into you, hollow and sickening. So afraid of asking for too much, of being too much— that you never realized how it projected onto him. What it looked like from outside the eye of the hurricane. How it would have made him believe… How could you have let him think—? 

The weight of it presses down, suffocates you harder than the insecurity ever did. You would never— never. But you share this, this inability to comprehend how utterly forgiving and needing the other is. 

So wrapped up in pondering a space you don’t deserve, you’d done this. That space, now, he is mourning. Begging you to fill again, as he drowns in desperation to fix a mistake he never made. 

“I thought I was being a burden.” you mutter, searching his eyes for confirmation that never arrives. “That I was lingering around you too much, hovering and you’d had enough—“

His brows furrow bringing an intensity in his eyes that worsens the caving in your chest.  He exhales then, more than air— everything that has choked and squeezed him inside.

“No. Never.” he cuts you off quickly, too overwhelmed by fear and sorrow and relief to even be the least bit composed. Oh, he was so relieved. His lips chase and kiss the tips of your fingers like a man starved. He mutters, low and clear against your skin, “Could never have enough of you, beloved.” 

You melt into his touch as he circles his arms around your waist and finally pulls you against his warm body. His breath tickles your neck as he presses his face into your shoulder, inhaling the scent of body wash, shampoo and you. “I am yours for the rest of the week.”

“No, stop that.” you argue, but your tone does not reflect. It dissolves, melts away. “Sylus, I’m not asking…”

“Neither am I.” he states, sturdy vibrations traveling from his lips down your spine. “I need to make you greedier. Be greedier for me.”

Your lips press together in a shy smile and you feather them over his pulse point. You seize control of your fingers. At last, you get to push his glasses up his nose, press on the fat of his jutted lip, ease the crumple of his brow and run your fingers through his soft, unkempt hair— just before you kiss him. Consume him. Devour him.

Sylus corrodes at the edges, unmoored at the feel of your lips on his. He presses, holding you to him, needing to be closer, closer, closer. To taste. To feel. To have. 

Putting your each wretched thought of unworthiness to shame. Silenced. Dust.

When you pull away, your eyes take a while to adjust, still giddy and tingling from the static in the air. He lingers, nuzzling into your skin, nose skimming reverently along your cheek. Once your vision returns you let out a genuine giggle. 

He swoons at the sound. Half lidded eyes and lips curved into a stupid smirk, asks, “What?” 

Your laugh escalates into a shriek as he dips to kiss you again and again. “Stop!” 

He’s grinning. The epitome of sunlight. “Why?”

You’re in tears at his appearance— light green smears of clay over his lips and cheeks, a stray cucumber hanging off his jaw. Shaky fingers go to right him, wipe away the remnants of a passionate kiss. Meanwhile, he turns to nip at your wrist and kiss your palm, and you think fondly: it is impossible to clean him up here. He is impossible.

“Come on.” you say instead, dragging him by his fingers which he meticulously intertwines with yours.

He follows, wordlessly, obediently. More than overjoyed to be led to— it does’t matter. He would be led anywhere as long as it were you. He savors how he can press on the soft skin on your palm, how he can so easily stop you in your tracks to kiss you soundly. All because he can. He can and he will. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Not long after, you’re wriggling in his iron grasp, tickled by the movement of his digits on the dips of your waist. You hiss, “Hold still!”

“I’m not the one squirming here, sweetie.” he chuckles, breathy and deep. His hand slides up the curve of your back and up the length of your arm, drawing one up over your head to pin you to the wall. “My little bird, trying to get away? Won’t you check your work?”

“You’re doing this on purpose.” you say pointedly, a fond grin on your gracious lips he cannot help but devour. You stop him in his tracks as he leans down, “We just got you cleaned up!” 

“I can clean up again.” he insists, leans again. To his displeasure, you turn your head to dodge him.

“Let me kiss you.” he whispers, begging with no sense of subtlety. Laid bare and open. With only the thought of tasting you. He nods to the jar in your hand. “Before you put that on me.” 

You click your tongue, but inside your belly swoops at his open expression. Head fuzzy with affection. “You said you couldn’t wait.”

“Your touch is enough to intoxicate and persuade. I am yours all week..” he purrs. He hopes you allow him a kiss— the sudden need make his ears pink. “Sweetie?” 

“One.” you relent, and he is quick to accept. Pressing his lips to yours lightly, to your surprise, as he swallows your gasp in delightful satisfaction. 

He pulls away clean, none of your replenished mask on his face. Then he drops his hands to cage your thighs on the sink you sit on. His eyes glint playfully as he inspects your flustered state, “Done playing around? I can’t wait.” 

You scowl at him— like he didn’t just beg you to… you sigh in kind exasperation and get to work.

To say he was putty in your hands was an understatement. Sylus has always been sensitive, that is a fact, but at every touch of your fingers on the bridge of his nose, the brush of the pads of your thumbs under his eyes, the scrape of your nails just under his jaw make him lose a shuddering breath. The devotion trickles down your spine like rain. 

When you place the cucumbers on his cheeks, he smiles, earth-shattering and gorgeous. Such a powerful man in a matcha-green clay mask. “There.” 

“Now we match.” he says so tenderly it aches. Every valve gives way.

For the rest of the afternoon, you are both in clay masks. Cucumbers over your eyes; happily wrapped around each other in bed like the greedy scum you are. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading!