#you can't truly feel the warmth from him... i guess

[lenievi]

The Covenant of the Crown (1981): Spock gets hugged like three times and casually holds hands with a character

Double, Double (1989): so happy he didn't offer his hand for me to hold

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

dinner prep engagement ♡

a/n : aaaand its finally here, the final part of the ring pop proposal miniseries after decades !!!! im sorry it took me so long to write this final part yall, i just finally felt enough inspo to write it and im super happy w how it came out ! i hope yall do too ! lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist ! much luv xx

fem reader, literally pure fluff between mama n son, katsuki gets emotional very quickly bc i believe he does and you cannot make me think otherwise, a lil emotional but pure sweetness, mentions of making dinner, lmk if i missed sum else !!

this time, mitsuki has no idea what her son is planning. sure she’s had her hopes for years now, and her suspicions, but nothing truly concrete.

that is, until she gets a call in the middle of the night.

"katsuki..hello ?" she answers groggily, heaving a sigh and rubbing at her eyes. she checks next to her to make sure she hasn't woken her husband up, her eyes dart over to her digital clock " 'ts one in the morning."

"uh..hey." her son's gruff voice sounds over the phone, she raises a brow at his hesitant tone of voice, but she let's him continue "yeah, i know. sorry.." he mumbles out.

the older woman shakes her head affectionately "it's fine..is there something you wanted to talk about ?"

it's silent on the other end for a while until katsuki mumbles something. "katsuki, you know i can't hear you if you don't speak up." she scolds lightly, causing him to growl under his breath.

"not..not right now, no--just..can i come over tomorrow ?"

taking in her silence for hesitance he continues " it's nothin' bad..i just--feel like it's something i needa say face to face, i guess.."

"okay..yeah, of course. you know you can come over whenever you want." she urges "is yn comin' along ?"

"no, she isn't." she can practically hear his eye roll and it makes her smirk "she'll be busy tomorrow anyway so, not this time. i'll tell her you said hello though, since you're always tellin' me to."

she's about to retort when katsuki speaks again, only not to her. she hears what she knows is your voice quietly chatting with him as he reassures you that he'll be right there with you and for you to go back to bed. the soft tone in his voice makes her eyes soften.

never could she ever have imagined her katsuki ever speaking so softly to anyone, because her katsuki is, despite having calmed down over the years, still quite the brat. (she's pretty sure she knows where he gets it from now..) he's still temperamental when interviewers and journalists get on his nerves. he's still awfully moody , but he's different now. he's just a little bit gentler with the way he handles kids or older women who's cats have gotten stuck in trees. complaining that this isn't his damn job but still doing it anyway with utmost care as the kitties sink their sharp claws into his skin or cling to him for warmth.

he's a still a little rough around the edges but it's the thought that counts. he's different than when he was younger, but he still is the most different with you. his rough and gruff voice that he uses to bark out orders and complain, complain, complain, he uses so softly around you, keeping you as calm and sleepy as possible. it's not perfect, but he manages to usher you back to your room to sleep, and that makes the thought count so much more.

"m'gonna go now." he warns, his mother hums in agreement, telling him she'll see him tomorrow and he reciprocates the goodbye.

"night, ma."

"night, kiddo." she grins, a happy sigh leaving her when she hangs up the call and lays back down. cozying herself up next to her husband.

she's had her suspicions and her hopes for a while now, but she can't be too sure what her son could possibly want from her tomorrow.

katsuki comes back home like he's never left.

the day goes like any other day would've went a few years ago when he was still living in the family home. mitsuki almost expects her son to run off upstairs to do his homework.

he greets his dad with a half hug, and is forced into a tight embrace by his mother, which he grumbles about. grumbles turning into a growl when she grips his cheek, scolding him for not greeting his mother properly.

it's a lot of catching up from the few months he's been busy with hero work. talking about his latests achievements and his quick climbing of the hero ranks, accompanied with barely suppressed smiles and softened eyes when you're brought up. mitsuki remembers how nervous he'd been when he'd told her he was planning on asking you to move in with him, so she's happy to hear from the both of you, since she has your number and you like to catch up every now and then, that everything was going well. though she already knew it would.

katsuki volunteered to help with dinner, his mother happily agreeing saying she could use some help. it makes her a little bit nostalgic and she wills herself not to get teary eyed at how much her son has grown.

but she sees that the opportunity has presented itself to bring up the topic that's been on the tip of her tongue the entire day now.

"so.." she sings "you wanted to talk about something, right ?"

katsuki stiffens like he'd forgotten, although his expression stays the same besides the slight squint of his eyes. the rhythmic cutting of vegetables has stopped and it takes him a moment before he speaks quietly like he's revealing a secret.

"i wanna ask yn to marry me."

oh.

so that was it.

"oh." she breathes immediately. a broad smile slowly grows onto her face and she beams "took you long enough, ya brat !" she exclaims, slapping her sons muscular arm. he growls lowly at her, leaning away from her though she remains undeterred. poking at his sides while he tries to smack her hands away.

finally, she relents "when are you gonna ask ?" she asks excitedly. katsuki huffs, eyebrows still heavily furrowed from her earlier attack. he turns back to the cutting board "soon. i arranged my schedule and we'll both be free, so in two weeks from now."

"you already have a ring ?"

he grunts in agreement. and mitsuki besides being proud of the fact her hunch was right, feels her heart warms at the burst of nostalgia of her little boy. her katsuki, kicking his feet in the backseat of her car. tightly gripping his bag of ring pop candies he'd give to you the next day. her little katsuki, who'd proudly claimed he was going to marry you when he grew up in that very same car, exclaiming that he'd proposed to you with those very same candies he'd almost had a tantrum over her not getting.

her little boy, who'd gotten oh so big, and so, so much more enamoured with you.

"good." she utters sweetly, voice just a bit wobbly "good. that's great, katsuki."

he nods to himself " i've thought about it for a while now..long while." he scoffs to himself, eyes focused on the cutting board in front of him. "got the whole day planned out too."

"yeah ?" he nods. her eyes soften as he speaks mostly to himself, he's had this little self hype up habit ever since he was a boy. trying to calm himself down and reassure himself. it's a smart move, but as strong and mature as he is, katsuki is nothing more than human. and anxieties can creep up on the best of us.

she's seen it before, and she sees it again when he bites his bottom lip in thought, and she smiles softly.

and again, she coaxes him into it " that sounds nice, looks like you got it all planned out, huh?"

and he nods again. but it doesn't take him, long before he breaks.

"..what if she says no ?"

and mitsuki wants to laugh. she really does, because the thought of you ever saying no to him sounds absolutely ridiculous to her. she snorts. shaking her head while her son looks at her incredulously.

"katsuki.." she tuts, chuckling to herself before she looks up at him. "you've got absolutely nothing to worry about. you've got it."

his eyes widen, then her son's expression drops as he raises a brow "how do you know that ?" his words make her smile widen this much more and she really wants to laugh.

how does she know. she scoffs

she knows because she knows him. she knows her katsuki better than anyone else, he's her son. she knows he's rude, rowdy, quipy, temperamental and everything else. he's all of that and so much more.

and yet you still love him. you're still so incredibly patient with him, you still offer him all of your kindness despite him once confessing to her he doesn't understand how you do. despite all of the times he's messed up, the times he's fallen down, you stay by his side you care for him, you care about him.

she knows her katsuki is absolutely infatuated with you, he always has been. from tantrums about being separated in class and knowing your favourite ice cream flavour to him being overly protective over you when you were paired up with your lab partner that ended up not being him and to him wearing the stupid stuffy tux mitsuki tailor made for him to take you to prom.

you've always been his number one best friend, but he's always been yours as well : he loves you, but you love him just as much.

and so mitsuki smiles "call it mother's intuition. and, not to brag, but i think most of my hunches have been right by now" and it widens when katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes at her boasting, another bratty little habit he has that he's practically mastered over the years. she sighs, spreading her arms out towards him "well come over here. you've gone and gotten so damn tall, i can't reach you myself !" her son rolls his eyes again, but he scoffs softly to himself and with a shake of his head, he closes the distance and hunches over to hug his mother. she wraps her arms around him tightly and he grumbles when she squeezes but he doesn't try to get away.

"there's nothing for you to worry about, katsuki. absolutely nothing." she repeats, rubbing his back. "you love each other, and that's more than enough. just be yourself, it's been working out for you this far..somehow." she jests. katsuki scoffs indignantly but they both end up chuckling about it. after a few more seconds they pull away and mitsuki pats her son's chest with a sniffle. right on top of his heart that she knows, she's seen, has gone through oh so much.

but still remained entirely yours throughout all the years and still so so so enamoured with you.

gripping onto his shoulders, she whispers "you got this." the glossiness in his eyes is impossible to miss, he's always cried very easily. but she guesses she mirrors his expression exactly. her son is the spitting image of her after all. she places a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.

"thanks, ma" he whispers sincerely. and mitsuki feels her heart soar.

"any time."

during dinner, katsuki announces the news to his father. who after getting over his shock immediately wraps his son into a hug. congratulating him and encouraging him with teary eyes, she knows where katsuki gets that from, before they all settle down to have dinner before katsuki leaves a few hours later. waving off his mother's insistence to pass you a greeting with a grumbled acknowledgement.

she shakes her head as her and her husband watch him drive off but her heart is full of pride.

"we raised a killer son didn't we ?" she giggles looking back at masaru, who agrees with a smile as they share a laugh.

and the next time you both come over, you're giddy. unable to keep your excitement in check as you keep excitedly looking back at katsuki, who finally relents with an affectionate sigh and you happily show off you're ringed finger with a squeal.

mitsuki squeals right back, wrapping you up in the tightest bear hug she could. masaru takes his turn hugging you, sweetly congratulating you both. of course, they'll tell you they both new in advance, but that was all for later.

sure, she didn't know what her son was planning in advance, but she had her hunches and her funny feeling from all those years ago that you'd be sticking around. she guesses it's good enough that she was the first to be told.

she sends her son a proud and teasing smile when they make eye contact. he rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face doesn't fade as he watches you talk with his father. she doesn't have to say a single word for him to know what she's saying.

i told you so.

taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn @kvk6433gkcigv @coolgirl458 @beekeepingageissome

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Vergil, and Dante react to his gn s/o who always makes it a habit to tell him that they love him whenever they can like when they wake up, before going to sleep, before they leave, and when they return please?

Dante

heaven is real and it goes by your name.

he loves nothing more then coming home to you waiting for him, holding his face in your hands as you tell him you were happy he was home safe, how you love him, as all he could do was hold you tight and praying that you don't slip from his grip.

never let him wake up from this beautiful reality he mamanged to fall deep into, this beautiful reality that you had made beautiful by just a few simple acts.

dante reciprocates you 'i love you's' with his own eagerly, treating each and every 'i love you' that escapes your lips as though it were made of pure gold, like he would never hear it again, and how does he reciprocate them exactly? by kissing your lips in thanks.

you say 'i love you' in the morning, head rested on his chest, looking gorgeous in your early morning mess, voice barely above a whisper? Dante is quick to peck your lips repeatedly as you laugh at how silly and loveable he was being, yet it was one of the many things that left you warm ans smiling for the entirety of the week.

you say 'i love you' to him before he leaves for a mission, confident in his abilities and know for certain he was coming home to you, holding his calloused hand between your own, showing him that while you believed in him and his unique abilties after so long.

you still had your worries as his lover, his other half, his soulmate that only showed him how deep your love went for him, deeper then what words could ever convey. Dante would reassure your worries with a few well placed hisses as he hold you to his chest, muttering against your head 'love ya too cuddle bug, keep the bed warm for me, wear my old coats, anything if it makes you feel better.'

all before forcing himself to pull away as he mourned the loss of your warmth for the duration of the mission, wishing for it to hurry up so he could go back home to you, even going so far as to make his thoughts known vocally. 'can we finish this right now? i've got a date with the warmest, most comfiest bed to make promise of.' the bed in this scenario is you.

you tell him you love him before drifting off to sleep? feeling so warm by his bodily heat and inable to let him go even an inch? Dante will coo and cuddle closer to you as he pepers kisses across your face before finally your lips.

'don't wander too far sweetheart.' he'd murmur in a tone unlike his usual and overused one. he means it when he tells you not to wander too far from him, for he fears that this is all a dream he'll never truly got to live out entirely.

and dante didn't want that, he wanted to stay here with you for as long as he could, to finally get a taste of the domestic lifestyle in your own uniue way of having strawberry sundaes and pizza to your heart's content. sure it's not healthy but it's what makes you both happy.

Vergil

Vergil is probably the type to say 'you too' after you say 'i love you' those words are strong and emotionally charged words to be saying as frequently as you do, he's not going to say them so quickly.

not unless he was certain that you weren't going anywhere, not unless he was certain he wasn't going anywhere becuase until then he wont say shit.

it's not something i can see this man doing unless he's 100% certain he can't see himself anywhere other than your side.

so he admires your ability to be so open about your feelings, about how you feel towards him without making him think deeply into your every action towards him, knowing he nver has to second guess you as you said what you meant and meant what you say.

whenevever you said 'i love you' to Vergil he feels like he doesn't deserve a love as pure and as unconditional as yours, he feels like a fraud and it sometimes make him want to scream and ask what could you possbly love about him so freely and without judgment?

it doesn't make sense to him at all, but yet he still lets you claim you love him until he finally begins to feel the effects of every 'i love you' you had ever said to him.

during missions, his mind will wander back to you, wanders back to the 'i love you' you said to him beforhand as he wonders what you were doing without him, wonders whether you were waiting for him in his makeshift study reading one of his many books just to feel closer to him

like he knew you did whenever he came home to you sleeping with a half open book in your hand. suddenly his resolve to being done with the mission swiftly became to one of finishing the mission to see you again,

his glacier heart had softened enough by your warmth at long last as he reconciles with the idea thar you love him with no known bounds to speak of, you love simply becuase you do.

your words are no trickery but a simple proclomation, a reminder that his place within your heart had not changed nor wavered. it has not soured, it had ripened and blossomed like a beautiful flower and he had the audacity to question it, foolishness.

so the moment he got home, you ecitedly greeted him from the study, hold his hand by the fingertips, telling him you love him and for what felt like the first time out of many to come, he smiled softly at you and greets you with a small 'hello again little dove.'

'hello again little dove' or just 'hello little dove' is his version of 'i love you.'

you admit your love in the morning to him, having been protectively tucked into the crook of his neck, arms latched to his waist as his back was to the door out of a habit to protect and keep you safe. He'd say 'hello again little dove' in response, his heart softening more when you smiled brightly at him afterwards.

you admit your love when seeig him off to sleep? voice soft as a feather as your voice lulls him into a sense of saftey, sense of belonging with you by his side. he'll say 'i'll see you soon little dove.' reminding you that even in your dreams, he'd follow like a protective second shadow.

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[salsakiyoomi]

“so i guess this is our new home now.”

satoru says, looking around the cheap rental place in upstate new york — you may be wondering, how you both ended up in this situation.

the simple answer is : to run away from the jujutsu life.

the complicated answer would be that satoru gojo had grown tired of being the strongest.

he had love and dreams, everything that was there to pursue, and he knew that if he kept going down the same path that he would never end up somewhere he wanted to be.

so he ran away, from everything, leaving his old life and everything that he knew behind.

except for you.

to be fair, it was never his intention for you to tag along, but when it came down to it, you decided that no way you would be leaving him on his own.

and not to mention, you have also grown tired of the jujutsu world.

and that's how you both ended up in states, in a cheap rental place in a cheap town in upstate new york.

“doesn't look too bad.” you say, shrugging as you look around as well, eyes drifting to the chipping paint on the wall and the peeling leather of the old couch, “we can make it work.” 

“yeah.” he hums, going over to the couch and sitting on it, patting the spot next to him for you to sit on.

you go over, settling down next to him, “this is the life.” you exclaim, a smile on your face, one that he mirrors, “yeah.” he hums in agreement.

comfortable silence settles over the both of you as you move even closer to him, snuggling up to his body and bathing in his warmth.

satoru stiffens, he's felt your body against his many times before but with his arising feelings and fat crush on you, it's not the same anymore.

it's been there for so long, it's unbelievable and honestly infuriating, he wants to get rid of it but no, you're just too oblivious to notice his very obvious hints.

( he got you your favourite drink the other day and thought, yep, that must be it, but no, you just sipped on it peacefully, didn't even offer him some. )

“hey uh…could you shoot over a bit?” he mumbles, a bit shy, and you stare at him, confused, and that's when you notice the loud thumping of his heart.

that's unusual, you think. the mighty satoru gojo is nervous? and of what? you laying against him?

“satoru?” you call his name softly, “are you okay?”

“yeah?” he huffs, and then jolts when you lay your hand against his chest where his heart is, a teasing smile on your face, “your heart tells another story.” you say.

he looks away from you — fuck, was he that obvious? wasn't that what he wanted though? for you to notice his feelings towards you?

and that's when he decides, fuck it, he'll just spit it out.

“i tried to ignore it, you know.” he mumbles and you raise a confused brow, “ignore what?”

“my heart whenever you're around me.” he says, “the way you always make me feel, like i'm just more than the strongest, like i'm truly loved — i tried, you know, to look at you as a friend.”

“but it's damn hard, when you're always so sweet to me, too nice and too giving, like you'd move mountains for me — and truth be told, i'd move mountains for you too — and god, whenever you smiled or laughed all i could focus on were your lips, how perfect they looked and i always wondered if my lips would fit against them, and how good you'd taste — would you taste of coffee or of the cherry lip balm that you always have on? i know you'd taste nice either way.”

he takes a deep breath, “and i know friends shouldn't think about kissing one another but god, you're so insatiable, i can't help it, i really can't.” he looks at you, and takes in the deep blush on your face and the way your lips are hung open, “all i can think about is wanting to kiss you, wanting you to be mine, wanting us to be a think.”

he takes your hands in his, “so god help me, i'll pursue you until you give in, until you feel the same for me, until you let me kiss you.”

a moment of silence falls over and satoru thinks that he’d screwed up, but then you mumble, “there is no need for that.”

“what?” he utters out, dumbfounded.

finally, you look up at him, “kiss me, satoru.”

and that's all it takes for him to place his lips against yours and savour your taste, his hands all over your body as he sinks into the moment.

and he let's the cherry lip balm that you always wear smudge on his lips, because it tastes like you.

[ddejavvu]

i just read your drabble about Darry being sweet on pregnant reader and I love the part where he says he will lift her stomach up if the baby got too heavy 😭 can we pls have another drabble where he does that

send me requests for the outsiders!

--

It's pretty impossible for you to wash the dishes at this stage of your pregnancy. Your belly provides an immovable barrier between you and the kitchen counter, and leaning over into the sink puts uncomfortable pressure against your stomach that makes you nervous. Not to mention the backache from hunching over- doing the dishes is simply not in your wheelhouse anymore.

That doesn't mean you can't dry them, though. You can take a towel and wipe the water droplets off of the glasses once Darry is done washing, and you can set them neatly on the counter if you can't manage to put them away yourself. You can still contribute to the household, no matter what Darry says.

"Are you out of bed again?" He asks, his voice coming from the bathroom as he exits the shower. He's a little more forward thinking than Sodapop: he brings his clothes into the bathroom so that he doesn't get caught naked by any unexpected visitors, which means that he's wearing a threadbare sleeping tee that's tight around the chest, plaid pajama pants over his lower half.

"I'm just drying the dishes, Dar." You promise, "Nothing strenuous."

"It looks strenuous." He frowns, brows creasing hard as he looks at your posture. Standing while this heavily pregnant is inherently awkward; you have to hunch yourself to maintain your new center of gravity.

"It's not, honey. I'm okay, I promise."

He studies you for a moment, leaning against the counter on his hip. Then he makes his decision, starting forwards over the small kitchen floor. You think he's reaching for the dish you're drying, trying to take it away from you in another endearingly overbearing attempt to relieve you of moving a single muscle. So you turn away from him, clutching the towel and the dish to your chest as if you could ever fight him off if he truly wanted to take it from you. But his hands slide around your waist and beneath your belly, apparently exactly the angle he'd wanted as he slowly, gently lifts your baby's weight off of your back.

You nearly melt into his chest at the feeling of the relief, an audible sigh leaving your mouth as he holds your pregnant belly off of your tired muscles.

"That feel nice?" He guesses, his voice a soft murmur beside your ear as you lean back against him. You should be more considerate; maybe he doesn't want your entire body weight slung against him while he lifts your baby bump, but he's sturdy and strong nevertheless. It doesn't seem to be a struggle for him.

"It feels so nice, Dar." You hum, feeling your tired muscles loosen and sing with relief from their constant strain, "Love it when you do this."

He presses a chaste kiss against your temple, still unmoving despite your whole body sagging against him, "Well I won't be doin' it for much longer. Baby's comin' in two weeks."

"You'll still have to hold her," You muse, "She's gonna hang off of you like a little monkey, Dar."

He chuckles and it shakes you slightly, the warmth of his chest intensified by the sweetness of his laughter, "You think so?"

"I know so." You nod, eyes still closed as you lean against his chest, "She's gonna love you. She'll be a total Daddy's Girl."

"I hope so." He hums, and you know that it's not as casual as it sounds: he's truly worried about his capabilities as a father, and he has been since you'd announced your pregnancy. But you know he'll be a great one, not only from the way that he takes care of his brothers, but by the way his hands already so expertly cup your stomach, cradling your baby before she's even born. You tug his hands closer together beneath your stomach, feeling your baby squirm but not kick in your belly.

"You'll be a great dad," You promise, soaking in the warmth of his touch as you lean back against him. She squirms again, not kicking you in the ribs but instead gently settling against the support his hands offer, "You already are."

[azrielbrainrot]

The Sweetest Dream

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Warnings: pure fluff, not proofread

Word Count: 0,9K

Notes: Writing little drabbles to help with writer's block. This is prompt #15 on this list.

Everyone in the house is asleep as you sit by the fireplace, sipping your tea, lost in visions of hazel eyes and gentle smiles, the same ones that wouldn't let sleep find you tonight.

“Can't sleep either?”

The sound makes you jump on the sofa, too distracted to realize someone had walked into the sitting room. Your heart calms as soon as you turn to find Azriel standing close to the doorway, cringing softly when you notice the guilty look in his eyes. You shouldn't have expected anything else from the Spymaster, walking around silently out of habit.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” he murmurs, hiding his hands behind his back and bringing his wings close to his body. Trying to make himself look smaller perhaps? As if that was possible.

“You didn't, Az,” you rush to assure him, “I just didn't expect anyone else to still be awake at this hour.”

Azriel hums and walks closer to you, the faint light coming from the fireplace making him look even more ethereal than usual as it hits his carved body so beautifully. Warmth spreads to your cheeks as his shadows give way and you notice he was only wearing loose pajama pants, it seems he really had been trying to sleep before coming downstairs. The thought makes you tug at the hem of your nightgown, remembering you were in the same position as him.

“You didn't answer me,” he speaks up again as he takes a seat next to you on the sofa.

“Right,” you clear your throat, pushing away any impertinent thoughts. “I can't seem to fall asleep, no.”

“Did something happen?”

His concern for you is exceedingly sweet, truly heartwarming, and even though it's something any of your friends would show, you can't help the murmur in your chest as it comes from him. The fact that his hushed voice sounds like warm honey in the quiet room not helping your situation at all.

You shake your head, turning your body to face him, leg propped on the sofa as the empty teacup in your hands disappears at the house's command. He looked impossibly handsome with his dark messy hair and his half-lidded eyes trained on you.

“Just have too much on my mind, that's all.”

“Alright,” he whispers, blinking slowly down at you, “but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Of course, Az. I promise it's nothing bad.” He nods, eyes never straying from yours as silence falls between you once again. “Why can't you sleep?”

“I guess I'm just not tired,” he shrugs.

You know better than to pry, but you also know of the nightmares that often plague his dreams, and of the insomnia that won't allow him to get a good rest. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to hold his hand, settling on biting your lip instead, your eyes darting back to the fireplace.

Ever since realizing your feelings for Azriel weren't exactly platonic anymore, you didn't really know how to act around him, entirely too aware of every movement and word, and what they could mean. It also didn't help that he seemed different with you as well, it made your heart get too many ideas.

“The sun is almost rising in the sky. We should probably give up on getting enough sleep,” he says, getting up from the sofa and coming to stand in front of you, holding out a hand towards you, one you don't hesitate in taking, letting him pull you up to your feet. “I know a good place to see the sunrise. Why don't I take us there instead?”

A smile spreads across your face as you accept his invitation with a nod, a smile of his own mirroring yours. Cauldron, how could you not fall in love with him? It seems more impossible to you that no one else was madly in love with the shadowsinger.

His hands fall on your waist unexpectedly, your eyes widening in surprise. “I'll fly us there,” he explains quickly, easily lifting you up into his arms, making you wrap yours around his neck. You've flown with him countless times, but now you could feel his body moving towards the window far too well, considering the lack of clothes between you.

“Azriel,” you call out his name just as he reaches the window, the way his eyes fall on your face taking your breath away for a moment. “Maybe we should get our robes or something before leaving.”

“No one will see us,” he assures, his shadows climbing up your bodies as if confirming their singer's words. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“If you don't feel comfortable with me-”

“I do, Azriel,” you murmur, tightening your hold on him, “Of course I do.”

“Alright,” he whispers, pulling you closer to him as the smile returns to his lips.

“Alright.”

Your lips were only a breath away from each other, and it seems he also realized this as his hazel eyes travel down to watch your mouth, the desire that briefly flashes through his eyes taking your breath away before he recovers, opening the window and letting the chilly early morning air kiss your exposed skin instead.

“We should hurry,” he says with a smile, watching the way you blink up at him. “We don't want to miss the sunrise.”

It seems your silly crush isn't as silly or one sided as you thought.

[alchemistc]

Tommy doesn't quite startle, when Evan reaches out for his hand, halfway down the block on their way to the little park tucked in behind a row of boutiques, but it takes him a moment to accept the touch, Evan's pinky sliding over the back of Tommy's hand as their shoulders bump together, the both of them a little too giddy to blame the coffee alone.

Evan makes an aborted movement like he's second guessing the attempt, and Tommy twitches his hand back just enough to snag his fingers.

At his side, Evan ducks his head, cheeks pinking, lips rubbing together, smile going wide and bright.

He feels overheated in his hoodie, but now their fingers are interlocking, and Evan is shifting his weight to adjust the angle of their arms, and Tommy can just deal with the warmth, actually.

His sister's wedding. They're both insane, Tommy decides, right then and there, and if this continues - if this continues, Tommy's just going to take his cues from Evan.

(I am all in, Tommy thinks, in Scott Patterson's voice, and then drops that thought like a hot fucking potato. He tables it, at least. For later.)

"I - uh - I told Eddie, about - well I told him." Evan grimaces, but he holds up their intertwined hands for a moment, a clear gesture about what, exactly, he'd told Eddie. Tommy wonders exactly how much he'd said. He wants to climb in behind his eyeballs and pick at his brain, which is so beyond the pale of weird and intense. Evan still thinks he's cool, somehow. That won't last. "I hope that was okay? I know you said you're out, but I guess he didn't know, so -."

Tommy squeezes the hand tucked into his. "That's fine, really. He'd have figured it out on his own, eventually. It's not like I hide it."

(Anymore.)

It's - that's a huge fucking leap from "I'm an ally" actually, less than a week out from shifting his eyes around the room and spouting nervous nonsense about picking up chicks. His sister, his best friend - Christ, he's really going for the speed run on accepting his sexuality.

The wedding, Tommy had discovered, down to the dregs of a truly middling cup of coffee he kept sipping at to try to hide his own nerves, was another three weeks away, but a month of lead time between his first kiss with a man and introducing that man to all of his family and friends as a date - yeah. Tommy wouldn't trust it for a minute if he hadn't spent weeks picking Christopher's brain for hints as to exactly what was up with Evan Buckley, if he hadn't already heard from Eddie exactly how quickly they'd jumped into their friendship.

Tommy's whirlwind thoughts stutter to a halt. "Wait. Did you know?"

Evan blushes, again, ripening the apples of his cheeks. "It's - okay so I didn't know, know, obviously, but - I mean - you were flirting pretty hard."

Tommy laughs. "Evan."

"You were!" He sounds a little incensed, like he's actually offended Tommy thinks he can't clock a flirt, and Tommy can't quite resist the urge to squeeze at his hand, again. "You aren't exactly the first guy who's ever flirted with me, Mr. Kinard." He says it prim and proper, chin raised, lips pursing after the pause, and Tommy is - shit, he's smitten. He also has no fucking clue how Evan never pieced together how hard he was flirting back. God, even Mr. Kinard has his stomach fluttering, a little.

"Just the first one who's ever reached out and slapped you in the face with it."

Evan's grin goes blindingly bright, eyes still a little squinted under the sunlight making the shots of red in his hair a little more obvious. "It was a very gentle slap. You could - you could slap a little harder, next time."

Jesus.

He's not even a hundred percent sure what the implication is there, but he can at least roll with the tamer one. He tugs, a bit, on their intertwined hands, just hard enough to knock their shoulders together again. He's a solid weight against Tommy's side, the bulk of him a little mind numbingly hot, in his bright white shirt and the dark wash jeans Tommy'd taken his time checking out when Evan went to toss their coffee cups. "You still owe me a beer, Buckley," he tells him, and Evan tilts his head up to check the angle of the sun, doesn't even bother to point out that Tommy'd barely let the check sit on the table long enough for Evan to pull out his wallet.

"I mean, it's a little early."

"Raincheck, again?"

Neither one of them has anywhere to be for the rest of the day. They'd both made that clear, when the coffee started to get low but the conversation didn't wind down, and Tommy - Christ, Tommy is more than willing to let himself get swept up in this, for the next few hours, for the day maybe, even. The weather is comfortable, and the company is adorable, and in response to Tommy releasing him from the pressure of being out too soon he'd sped off to his sister and his best friend for - for answers, most likely, for advice on how to turn things around. My sister says... he'd started, before Tommy'd had enough of wondering.

"Let's see where the day takes us," Evan says, another squeeze to Tommy's hand, and Tommy takes the weight when Evan checks his shoulder back.

-----

The day takes them twelve blocks up the road, Tommy pressed to his own kitchen counter, lips swollen and flushed when he finally parts for breath, Evan Buckley's dick pressed against his thigh as he whines at the loss. Tommy's hands are bunched up under the fabric of Evan's shirt, the wide expanse of skin beneath them sun-warm and smooth, and when Evan blinks back at him and digs his nose into Tommy's cheek, Tommy has the wild thought that he could do this forever - just this, rocking together in the shifting late afternoon light coming in from the gauzy white curtains over his kitchen sink.

They'd made the journey here under the pretense of grabbing a few waters, maybe making some late lunch, figuring it out from there, but when Tommy had bent over the low shelf in his fridge Evan had cut the distance between them, caged Tommy in and made good on his threat to show Tommy he could slap back, if he wanted.

They've been lazily making out for - long enough that the water bottles he'd scrambled to set aside are now sweating condensation. He'd lost his concept of time somewhere around the point Evan had grabbed for the back of his thigh and rocked against it for the first time.

"We should figure out something for dinner," Tommy announces, lips still close enough to Evan's still parted ones that he's speaking mostly into his mouth.

"Uh-huh."

"Evan," he intones, just a hint of admonishment, and Evan blinks, and gathers himself. He's - he's still got his thigh wedged between Tommy's, can clearly feel exactly how much they'd both gotten themselves worked up. Tommy's a little obsessed with exactly how unperturbed by this Evan is. Thirty some years without realizing he was attracted to men and now he's spent a good few minutes actually nipping at the cleft of Tommy's chin, purposely shifting his face against Tommy's stubble-roughened cheeks while he sucked at Tommy's earlobe.

"Somewhere with beer," Evan provides, decisive, and Tommy can feel exactly how wide his smile goes.

"I'm actually in the mood for wine, tonight," Tommy shoots back, and the moment shifts, mood slowing as Evan pulls back - just a little, just enough for each of them to take stock of exactly how disheveled they both are.

Evan's mouth is pink pink pink, his own stubble not quite enough to hide the beard-burn that had spread down his neck when Tommy found himself momentarily fascinated by the dip of his collarbone, the rush of his pulse when Tommy mouthed at the tendon of his neck. Besides the awkward bunching at the back, his shirt is all out of whack, one side of his collar flipped up, the neck shifted to one side, and Tommy vaguely remembers sliding his hand in there, at one point, swallowing the heavy groan that had elicited. His cheeks are ruddy, eyes bright and still a little wild. Tommy can't be any better.

"There - there is actually a little wine bar around here I've been meaning to try," Evan says, clearly trying to refocus, shifting his weight around in a familiar way that Tommy finds achingly endearing.

Tommy thumbs at Evan's bottom lip just to watch the way he has to fight not to be drawn back in.

"Let me change," Tommy says, hands shifting to Evan's hips to press him back, and away.

"You - you're fine. Like this."

Tommy's smile is soft, and he reaches out to smooth down Evan's collar. Evan's eyes seem to be stuck on the flash of skin behind the open button of his Henley, the knowledge of which he is absolutely going to use to his advantage.

"This isn't exactly date attire," Tommy impresses upon him, and Evan's brow goes adorably crinkly.

"Tommy, we've been on a date the entire day."

Tommy's mouth does something uncontrollable, the smile breaking containment on one side, then the other, and the hand still tucked next to Evan's collar shifts across his chest. Beneath his ribcage, Tommy's heart does something he absolutely refuses to acknowledge until he's had a moment alone to his thoughts.

"I didn't wear this to impress you," he admits, although he gets the feeling Evan absolutely had dressed to impress. "Sorta thought I was getting a very polite let down, this morning."

"So, this is, what, your sulking attire?"

"Certain I was gonna sulk, hmm?"

"I mean, I'd have been a little insulted if you didn't at least mope, a bit. Maybe a little wallowing."

"You caught me. This is my brooding sweatshirt."

It's absolutely stupid, how much it makes his heart race to see the grin blooming across his face. Tommy needs a moment.

He brushes at Evan's shoulder as he passes him, fighting the urge to press his lips to his cheek.

"I'll be right back. Bathroom's down the hall on the left, if you need it."

In his room, with the door shut behind him, Tommy takes a long, long moment to stare at his bed, silently trying to convince himself not to throw his whole body dramatically across it like some regency era heroine. The bathroom is right next to his room, and Tommy can hear Evan drifting down the hall towards it, at a pace that suggests he's taking the time to take in the artwork and picture frames hung on the walls. It makes something ache, in his chest, in his throat, and Tommy shakes his head on the way to his closet, getting tangled in his sweatshirt when he tries to tug both it and the Henley up over his head at the same time.

He's forgotten how clothes work. Maybe. Probably.

In his walk in, once he's figured out how to get everything off without blinding himself or taking out a light, he takes a moment to stare at himself in the mirror hung by the door. His hair is a fucking disaster. His face is - embarrassingly smiley, Jesus Christ.

There's a mouth shaped bruise forming at the bolt of his jaw, and Tommy should absolutely be embarrassed about that - he's a forty year old man who just spent a good hour necking in his kitchen.

Fingers trace the edges of it and he can't muster up anything less mortifying than smugness.

He manages to get his hair in some semblance of order - doesn't bother with product, for absolutely no reason at all (certainly not to tempt Evan into running his fingers through it some more) - and finds a collared shirt in a light, hazy blue that he knows brings out the slashes of green in his eyes.

He leaves the top three buttons undone and calls it good.

Evan's back in the kitchen by the time he makes it out of his room, snooping in Tommy's fridge, and he doesn't even have the grace to look apologetic about it when Tommy taps his fingers against the doorframe.

The fridge closes on its own, Evan's mouth dropped to an intriguing O shape.

"Uh - oh," Evan says, mouth actually snapping shut as he takes Tommy in, eyes dipping up, down, catching on the skin below his collarbone. He swallows. Fuck. "This - uh. Okay. Color me impressed."

"Yeah?"

"You know you look good," Evan whines.

He's done something to fix his own, hair, too. Tommy leans in the doorway, arms crossed, one foot tucked over the other, and actually takes the time to stare back. Tommy's hands had worn through the product - there's a little bit of a curl, in his hair, that Tommy would give a lot of his earthly possessions to see in its natural state. There's still some color in his cheeks, and it's spreading as Tommy checks him out. He's fixed the neck of his shirt, and against the stark white of it, his tattoos are drawing Tommy's eye. He wonders how many other ones he might uncover, one day. "You too," Tommy finally says, when Evan looks like he might vibrate right out of his skin at the attention. Evan beams, and spins the keys in his hand around on one finger.

"You ready?"

Absolutely fucking not, Tommy thinks to himself, but he nods, and lets Evan lead the way back out his front door.

[froggiewrites]

Bloody Hands

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You're struggling with horrible period cramps, and luckily, Law has the perfect solution. Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Period Sex, Fluff Word Count: 2.1k Notes: Did I write this in one sitting instead of just taking ibuprofen for my cramps like a normal person? Maybe. Anyway, this is my first time writing for Law, so I hope I did him justice!

This is going to kill you.

You say that every month, of course, but you really, truly mean it this time. You’re practically immobilized, laying in the fetal position on your bed trying not to let out pitiful moans every time another wave of pain hits. You fail every time.

Several members of the crew had come to check on you, bringing offerings of heating pads, ibuprofen, and various other remedies, but they hardly helped. After the fifth visit (Penguin bringing you more water while anxiously checking you over), you couldn’t even thank your friends, only letting out a sad whimper to acknowledge their presence before once again squeezing your eyes tight and trying desperately to ground yourself.

Your captain had been noticeably absent from these visits, probably burying himself in work as he always does, and you’re torn between being grateful he hasn’t seen you in such a sorry state and hurt tearing through your chest that he didn’t care enough to check on you. You would have gone to him in a heartbeat if he was doing as poorly as you were. He wouldn’t want you to, of course, would lock his door and burrow so deeply into his bed he wouldn’t see a single speck of light until his illness had passed, but you would come anyway. You would at least try.

You regret the thought the moment you hear a familiar hum at the doorway. You should have known he would never leave you alone when you needed him. “I almost didn’t believe everyone when they said how bad it was.” You whine, and you hear a sympathetic chuckle. “I know.” The heels of his shoes click softly against the ground, and suddenly Law’s warm hand has slid under your shirt, warm and gentle as it rubs circles onto your upper back.

“Everything hurts.” You’re so lost in the pain you can't even bring yourself to hate how pathetic you sound. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, and you nuzzle into it, welcoming the affection gratefully.

“I know, sweetheart.” He doesn’t often call you pet names, and it makes your heart flutter when he does. Usually when you hear them it means you’re going to be taken care of, cherished in a more tender way than the quiet and understated (but no less wonderful) way he normally shows his love for you. His lips ghost over your forehead, and you finally open your eyes to see his own staring at you with undisguised concern, bags under his eyes more pronounced than usual. “Can you describe it to me? Is it just the cramps, or is there something else?”

“It’s just cramps. And a small headache, I guess.” Another wave crashes over you, and you pull yourself in even tighter. “They’re…they’re not normally this bad.”

“And the pain meds haven’t helped?”

“Not enough.”

“Hm.” You can see the exact moment he flips from lover to doctor, racking his brain for any knowledge he can use to help you, and the moment he finds his answer. The light flickers on behind his eyes, and he carefully looks over you, assessing the situation, before your lover is back, sly grin slowly creeping over his face and a quiet excitement makes its way into his voice. “I think I know something that could help. If you’re willing.”

“I would do anything for this to stop,” you whimper, and his amusement once again fades into fondness as his eyes soften with pity.

“I’ll do my best to help, sweetheart, I promise.” His lips brush against your forehead again before the bed shifts and his warmth has left you. You cry out, but he gently shushes you. “Just a minute. I’ll be right back, really.”

He probably is only gone for a minute, but it feels like hours. You don’t relax for even a second until you hear a quiet, “Shambles!” and find yourself in the familiar dim light of Law’s room. Your back is pressed against something rougher than his usual blankets, and you turn your head to see you’re laid out against a mismatched array of towels, clearly stolen from the shared bathroom the rest of the crew uses. His pair of towels are separated, one lying directly under your lower half while the other sits folded and ready at the end of the bed. Law is staring at you, unblinking, directly next to it.

“Hi.” Your voice is weaker than you want it to be, barely a whisper, but he slightly smiles when he hears it anyway.

“Hi.” He leans forward a bit, eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light, looking almost like a predator stalking his prey. It makes you tense despite yourself, causing another flash of pain in your abdomen. The vulnerable noise you make causes him to grin, showing just a bit of sharp canines through his parted lips. “Are you ready?”

“For what?”

“Your treatment, sweetheart.” He maintains eye contact with you as he slowly pulls latex gloves over his tattooed hands, covering the letters on his fingers. Once they’re fully on, he lets the material go, making a small thwap as it snaps against his skin. He repeats himself. “Are you ready?”

“Yes?”

“I need you to be sure.”

“Yes.” You repeat, more firmly this time.

“Excellent. I promise you’ll feel better soon.” With that, you can feel the cool latex against your skin as he slips off the loose pajama pants you were wearing in a single fluid motion. You then feel his hands against your thighs, forcing them apart and leaning forward. You let out a soft noise of surprise, and he gives you the same predatory smile as before before muttering, “Just relax.”

His gloved fingers slowly trace up your thighs, before he quickly removes your panties, depositing them somewhere nearby. He turns his attention back to you, fingers retracing their path, and you shiver as he runs a single finger down your slit. He lifts his hand closer to his face as though to inspect it, and you can see the blue latex becomes stained with blood. You can see his pupils dilate, black overtaking the normal steely grey of his eyes. You can’t tell if he’s fascinated or aroused. Probably both.

He allows his hand to find its rightful place again, slowly inserting his first finger into you. You gasp quietly, and he laughs under his breath. You feel yourself stretch around him as the slick of your blood makes it easy for him to slide himself knuckle deep into you. You let out a stuttering breath as you get used to the new sensation. Your pain hasn’t subsided, but this is certainly a good distraction.

“Everything alright?” His voice is low, thick with want, but he tries to maintain an even tone.

“Yeah,” you managed to squeak out. “I’m fine.”

“Only fine?” He lets out a displeased hum. “Next time I ask, I want you to be doing better than ‘fine’.”

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” You regret the words the moment they come out of your mouth. As much as Law loves to pretend he is some even-keeled professional, he’s easily riled up by a challenge, and challenges relating to you are some of his favorites. “I mean–”

“I know what you meant. Don’t worry. I’ll make it happen.” With that, he begins pumping, keeping a steady slow pace that isn’t nearly enough for you, before suddenly adding a second finger. He curls them, hitting a sweet spot that makes you sing for him, and he gives you an absolutely shit eating grin. “Sounds like we’re already well on our way, hm?”

He speeds up slightly, his other hand leaving the plush of your thigh and finding your clit. The material feels strange against you, but that thought is quickly shoved out of your head as he slowly begins to rub small circles against it. You let out a whine of, “Law!”

“Yes?” His voice is dripping with smugness. You can do nothing but let out another small cry of his name, and you can see the way his chest slightly puffs out with pride at the sound. There is nothing in the world he loves more than making you come unraveled, and he loves any reminder of that, especially those that remind him that you’re his and that he is the one making you feel this way. “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you. We’ll be there soon.” He adds a third finger, reveling in the way you clench around him. You see his eyelids drop slightly as he takes in the sight of you splayed out before him, blood and wetness covering his fingers as they pump in and out of you.

You finally, finally begin to feel something stronger than your pain as the coil in your stomach tightens, making every part of you begin to tense as you approach your precipice. Law leans over you, taking his eyes off of your cunt for the first time since he started  just so he can look you in the eyes and whisper, “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You gush around his fingers, crying out. He doesn’t look away from your face as your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, taking in every inch of your sweet expression. He works you through it, not removing his fingers until he knows for certain that you’ve ridden your high to the end, leaving you spent and relaxed against the towel below you. Once he slides his hands out of you, he quickly removes his gloves, dropping them into a nearby trash can. He grabs the towel at the end of the bed and uses it to wipe up any blood on your thighs, placing a gentle kiss to each thigh once he’s sure they’re clean.

“How are you doing?” His voice carries no challenge like earlier, only a genuine concern for you.

“I’m great.”

“No cramps?”

You close your eyes, taking in your current state. You feel a little sore, and there’s still a small pressure in your skull, but you realize your abdomen doesn’t hurt at all. “No cramps.” You can’t keep the pleased smile off of your face, and when you open your eyes you see his expression mirrors your own, if a touch more smug.

“Good.” He kisses your forehead before gently gathering you into his arms. You let out a soft noise of protest, but he pulls you into his chest anyway. “After a quick shower and some sleep I think your treatment will be over. …For now.”

“For now?”

“You’ll have to come see me if your cramps return, of course.” His eyes shine with a gentle mischief you don’t often get to see.

“Oh, of course, Dr. Trafalgar.” You expect him to roll his eyes at you, but he smirks further at you using his title. Interesting.

For now, he carries you into his personal bathroom, setting you down and beginning to fuss with the shower. Your eyes spy the empty towel rack, and you have a realization. “Law?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any towels not covered in blood?”

“I–hm.” He leaves for a moment, returning with another clearly stolen towel. The crew is going to have a bad night once showertime rolls around, but you can’t bring yourself to care too much, still caught up in your sudden relaxation after your day of suffering. In the shower, Law pampers you thoroughly, refusing to let you lift a finger to do anything for yourself. His fingers are gentle as he washes your hair, your face, your body. He wraps you tenderly in a towel once all is done, even helping you dress once you’ve dried. He only stops pampering you once he’s tucked you tightly into his bed, heating pad and pain meds ready on his nightstand just in case. And in a very rare treat, instead of rushing off to work, he lays down next to you.

“You aren’t going to leave?” You can’t keep the tentative hope from your voice.

“Not until you’re asleep.” He pulls your head into his chest, and you happily make a home there.

“I’ll have to stay up to keep you here.” Even as you say it your eyes are drooping, and you can feel the rumble of his laugh.

“You can try.” He runs his fingers carefully through your hair.

You lose quickly, falling into an easy sleep, surrounded by warmth and care, and pain far away from your mind.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[nectardaddy]

SEE ME LIKE I SEE YOU . . . yukimiya kenyu + reader

warnings/notes : gn reader, written in second person (you/yours), hurt/comfort, yukimiya backstory spoilers, in my head they're an older couple in this, blindness/visual impairment, unedited I'm sorry this came to me in a vision and I had to write it, use of the pet name “angel”

Yukimiya can't remember what you look like. 

Through years of shared glances, stolen moments, and graced presence, he can feel the image of you slip through his fingers like sand with every day that passes. At night, he stares at the ceiling, an inky blackness mingling with the very few shadows his eyes allow him to see, unable to fall asleep next to you. Whenever he thinks of you, he's met with the haunting picture of an undefined figure and fuzzy edges; you're indescribable as he gnashes and claws at his mind to remember just one thing. 

He knows what you look like underneath his finger tips. How there's lines beginning to take root on the corners of your mouth from smiling at him all these years, how your nose crinkles and you get goosebumps when his hands are cold, he knows your face gets hot when he gently traces over your features so he doesn't forget - but he has, and it makes him want to heave.

Yukimiya's sight is nearly nothing but shadows.

He leaves lights on, despite your protests for saving money on the electric bill, just to have a slice of normality. He's memorized the layout of the apartment, and every piece of furniture and knick knack there is so he doesn't run into them; although, his knees are still bruised regardless, because his memory is often skewed by two inches to the left. He knows what your shadow looks like; where your height lands next to the door frame, can tell what shoes you're wearing from the height difference if there's enough light to see, and knows what clothes you're wearing based on your silhouette alone.

It leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat over the notion he doesn't remember you to a tee. 

The pictures he used to fawn over are now lost to time. Framed photos on shared walls collect dust, as he can't even remember what he truly looks like either. He can't remember the silly faces you made at him when you caught him staring, how you'd look at him in adoration despite the sweat dripping off of him from football, nor can he remember his favorite picture of the two of you that still remains his lock screen picture - it's him and an undefined blob, frayed edges, and inky blackness. 

“Kenyu?” Your voice is soft, gravelly from sleep, and holds a concern that makes his heart sink even further. You've realized he's still awake, staring up at nothing instead of sleeping. “Why’re you still up?”

There's a split second where he wants to spill his guts. To divulge all his sorrowful thoughts about the mourning of a person who still lays next to him. But the man only smiles gently, and lets out a small breath; he'd never tell how he truly felt about the loss of such a precious memory. Because to him, he'd lose you all together if he did. “Can't sleep.”

“Again?” He feels the bed dip down as you shift closer to him, now turning around to face him and your breath tickles his neck. There's a warmth on his chest that pulls him out of a state of shock; you're warm against him, and he's suddenly shot back to being a child again when his mother would console him. “What's that pretty head of yours thinking about at 3AM anyway?” 

He pauses as his fingertips find your cheek; he's gotten particularly good at finding you in the dark, as that's how he feels he lives his life most days. “A little bit of everything, I guess?” He follows with a half hearted laugh that stings when it hits your ears. “Go back to sleep, angel.” 

He hears you hum, and he closes his eyes. The man knows he's an awful liar, especially to you, and the hum always follows with a declaration of being caught. “How can I sleep knowing you're awake, racking your brain?” There's a certain sense of care to the question, despite the groggy tone, that makes his heart feel a little less war torn. 

“I miss seeing you.”

The words leave his lips a little too quickly, absentmindedly blurting out his own thoughts from lack of sleep and a downtrodden mind. And instantly he wants to take them back, to retract the words from the universe and forget they ever happened. But he hears another hum, and he feels his heart beat out of his chest. 

You know what he means when the words hit your ears, you're not stupid enough to tell him he sees you every day. All he wishes, if he had one chance, was to glance at you like he did the first time you met and fall in love with you all over again. But the cruel reality hits you in the chest, as you can't bring back his sight nor fully understand his disposition. 

“Then, see me.”

His hands are cold when you take them in your own, perpetually chilling you with every fleeting touch. There's a sliver of light in the room from the curtain that wasn't pulled far enough on the bedroom window, and it allows you to see his brows scrunch in confusion. He can't tell what you're doing, but trusts you all the same as you sit up. 

“What are you-?” But he's cut off when you give him a small tug, silently asking for him to sit up with you as well. He does, and you smile. 

He feels you press his own hands to your cheeks, feels your breath tickle his hands from the sudden inhale from the cold, and feels you smile, your lips pulling upward underneath the pads of his fingers. “Touch every part of me if you have to, but I want you to see me.” 

[aurmisery]

lover, you should've come over.

you guessed it, a ronin b. x reader.

small epilogue to uhhh confessions unheard: sickening sweetness from a MONTH AND A HALF AGO.... tahaha... yeah...

only reason this was written was because a good friend of mine had me thinking it up one day and i thought why not? it was really fun to write ngl (thanks alo for ur help !!)

this is short, but this is just to hold over my account until i can actually prioritize writing when i have free time and actually fix up my messed up revisions 😭

words // 2029

enjoy ! no warnings this time !!

ronin isn't one to bare his heart and soul out all carefree, he's the type to twist them with silken words and stringed innuendo, the type to keep you guessing so you never know what he's truly on about.

but damn, he couldn't lie; drifting off to sleep within the warmth of your lap as you thread your nails through his hair had to have been one of the best feelings in the world.

besides killing someone, anyway.

your fingers massage around the crown of his head and he gives a lazy sigh in response, lashes batting low and letting his cheek smush against your leg.

it's cute, the apparent need he has to interact and bury himself into everything you. maybe it came from the drunken confession outside your front door, or maybe it's the fact that he's recovering from a cold and couldn't give less of a fuck to dance around with his words.

"ronin," you hum, and he barely registers your voice, rolling onto his back so he could maintain eye contact with you instead, the way he likes it- especially now, with his voice rough from congestion.

his brows slightly bounce, as if responding 'yes?' and he runs his knuckles over your jawline waiting for you to say something, but you only sweep your thumb over the mulberry strands tickling his forehead, clearing them away from his lashes.

"feeling okay? you're not getting more stuffy from laying up on me, are you?"

he sniffles, letting a small 'mmm' falter through him and his index finger gives a light boop over your nose, a chuckle- throatier than usual, following.

"not so stuffy anymore, darlin'. jus'...a little tired, is all."

he's obviously congested, but it's clearing up and your chest falls slowly, exhaling in relief that he's not burning up as badly anymore.

you're honestly surprised that you haven't gotten sick by taking care of him. you're nursing him 24/7, and like the bastard he is, he's eating up every. second of it.

still teasing you, slinging a heavy arm around you to keep you close to him, constantly nagging for you to never leave his side.

he's as touchy as... never?

ronin had never been this...handsy in your friendship with him, and you'd never guess he was the type from how avoidant he seemed at your front door. but now?

now he's all over you.

when he gets the energy to stand, he lazily slouches onto you with his head on top of yours and arms snug over your neck like dead weight.

it's almost suffocating with how warm he is, and he takes little notice. if he does, he doesn't give enough of a fuck to move off of you.

you try to focus on whatever you're doing, elbowing him lightly in the side to make him move. instead, he only wrenches a dopey smile onto those pale lips of his.

"i ain't goin' anywhere, darlin'."

the finality of his words stir conflict onto your expression, a faint blush bleeding onto your cheeks and the corner of your lips firming themselves as to not crease into a grin. he's stupid.

and god, it makes you wanna kiss him even more.

but no! you can't, because his dumbass just had to wander the streets drunk in the pouring rain like some lovelorn loser rather than getting home and mourning his sorrows there.

you've chastised him multiple times over for it, but you can't lie- you're glad he showed up at your door instead of his. if he went home like usual, you'd have a conflicted serial killer agonizing over his feelings whilst being sick in bed ALONE.

and besides, every time you do start laying into him for his lack of caution or 'whatever' (how he phrases it), he just sloths himself over your duvet, hands up in a gesture of 'whaddya want me to do 'bout it?' as he chews his lip red.

"hey, hey- you're the one who's got my heart all strung up. i can't be the only one to take the blame, now can i, arachne?"

you roll your eyes at the correlation, ignoring the faint flicker of heat coiling in your stomach at the way his teeth tug at the already-blossoming coral of his lip.

...

it isn't fair.

he swings a love confession at you in the rain and you two are glued at the hip after. good, great, even! impeccable timing, really.

but you can't do anything about it. you have him staying over to recover and you can't even touch him the way you want.

he's sick, after all. even though he's not acting like it.

even the slasher playing out on the tv isn't enough to distract you. when watching these, you'd scoot just a little closer to him, and he'd pull you taut against his shoulder.

now though, he's soaking in your warmth, hands on your hips and head angled between the line of your jaw and the bone of your shoulder.

you should have known what you were signing up for the moment you let him inside.

still, you shoot him a look as you unscrew the cap off his medicine bottle, just in time to hear him groan, palms running to the front of your stomach.

you frown. "don’t even start with me."

he lifts his hands in feigned surrender, eyes lidding low and a brow quirking up. "eh, i could do without the medicine. leaves a weird taste on my tongue."

you shrug him off with a scoff, lips pursed. "you'll get better if you take it."

he leans against the counter, one hand propping up his head while the other pinches at the ends of his hair. "nah, i'd rather let natural selection take its toll."

..could he be any more annoying?

you roll your eyes at him before narrowing them, pinching the bridge of your nose. "oh, shut up and take it before i pour it down your throat myself."

he grins, slow and wolfish, his voice dipping just to spite you.

"that a promise, darlin’?"

if you held a mirror up to your face at that exact moment, the dusting of pink around your ears wouldn't have helped your case.

he's getting under your skin, and that's what he loves to do most.

why not give him the same energy?

you cross your arms with a sigh, turning your back to him with a shake of your head.

"damn, guess you don't want that kiss then."

the somber laced in your voice is pure mock, but it didn't stop the small grin threatening your facade.

in one...two-

"..alright, so uh- how much am i supposed to take again?"

bingo.

-

yeah, it wasn't too hard to get him to take his medicine after that.

he complained about the taste for about three minutes before he shut up and you dragged his ass to bed. luckily for you, he wasn't straining for an all nighter, either.

the window beside your bed is half-open, the blinds uneven where a few slits tilt just enough to let the outside in. dusky blues seep through the gaps, soft and endless, pooling onto the floor, stretching over the sheets. the night air lingers, cool against your skin, but your gaze is still fixed on him.

ronin, caught between light and shadow, the city’s breath painting him in something just shy of divine. the angles of his face softened beneath the faint glow, his lashes resting like brush strokes against his skin.

he's breathing well tonight. it's clear, not too stuffy, and his lashes lay still, undisturbed. no flutters, not even a scrunch in his nose as he tries to get comfortable.

you reach out, running a few fingers over his brow, smoothing over the faint crease that lingers there even in rest.

and your index finger falls over the bump of his nose, giving it a small boop yourself.

his lids twitch a little, once, twice, before he turns himself into the pillow beneath him, arms snaking up and around it with a low grumble.

you scoff, slowly lifting off the bed and sliding some shoes on quietly, taking light steps across the carpet and pulling an arm through one sleeve of your jacket, the other following suit as you grip your doorknob.

you turn it, trying your best not to have the door creak or the knob snap back into place, and just as you get a foot out the door-

"not even a kiss goodnight? rude."

his voice is honeyed with sleep, thick and drowsy, like he’s barely clinging to consciousness, and it's enough to have your pulse quicken.

you freeze, hands shoved in your pockets, already preparing your death glare, but you turn your head over to him, and...

he hasn't moved much, still sprawled where you left him, but one black eye's cracked open lazily, dark and luster-less in the dim light.

his head tilts slightly in your direction, cheek half-buried against the pillow, the deep red of his hair spilling shaggy and unkempt over the stark white fabric.

you chew the lining of your cheek, angling your arm against the doorway with a limpness that says 'fine, you caught me.'

"i was about to go and feed your babies back home, but i s'pose pepperoni and blackjack can wait since their father's so important."

he smirks, tongue licking over the dryness of his lips, before he raises his chin.

"you think i forgot?"

now, you pause at that. you stop the drumming of your fingers over the edge of the door, and your brow creases up.

"...forgot what?"

"my kiss, darlin'."

silence, then a scoff, and you push off the frame, crossing your arms with a wry smile.

"you're sick, ro-"

"and?"

you squint right back at him.

"fuck you mean 'and?' you think i'm trying to get sick?"

he leans onto an elbow, pushing his head up with a shit eating grin.

"c'mon, you've been sick since the day you tiptoed your way to purgatory. since you've kissed the devil, and now you're scared of contracting somethin'?"

your lips part. to retort, to deny, but you could only mutter something sly under your breath as you stomped back to his bedside.

you eye them over, and they're not so pale anymore- maybe a little bludgeoned, pink 'n pretty with the stain of crimson seeping between the light cracks softening on his skin.

your fingers hover for half a second. hesitating. thinking, as if weighing out the risk and the reward.

then, with yet another roll of your eyes, you lean down, close enough for the warmth of his breath to meet yours.

"fine. one," you murmur. "but you better pray that pepper's not plotting on blackjack."

his lips meet yours, warm despite the uneven drag of cracked skin against your own. it's slow- unrushed, lazy in a way that makes heat curl at the base of your spine. the roughness of his lips should be off-putting, the faint taste of medicine lingering between you, but it's not.

it's familiar.

it's him.

he exhales through his nose, the sound melting into the quiet space between you as he tilts his head just enough to deepen it. his mouth parts slightly, teasing at the seam of yours, and for a moment, it's softer than it has any right to be- like he's waiting, like he’s letting you take what you've wanted so badly from him.

but then, just as quick, you pull away with a scoff, brushing the back of your hand over your mouth, and your fingers linger at your lips longer than they should.

"that all i get?" he murmurs, voice husked from sleep, from you.

you roll your eyes, striding towards the door and opening it with pep in your step.

"get some sleep, loverboy."

-

his greed sickens me 💔 anyway ill edit any mishaps or clunky words/phrases and italics/bolds and sectioning later it's like 1:41 AM over here

[blairxbear]

Your final moments in their arms...

UA Part 1 / UA Part 2 / Pro Heroes / Villains

Warnings: These drabbles depict readers death and may contain heavy emotional themes. Mentions of blood, while nothing is graphic please be aware before reading

Featuring: Tomura Shigaraki, Dabi/Toya Todoroki, Shuichi Iguchi/Spinner, Kai Chisake/Overhaul, Jin Bubaigawara/Twice, Atsuhiro Sako/Mr. Compress, Young All For One

Tomura Shigaraki

Tomura knelt, trembling violently, blood soaking through his hands as he held you close, desperately careful not to let his Quirk touch your fragile skin. He'd never felt fear like this—not even once—until he saw your life slipping away.

"Y/N," he rasped, voice raw with panic. "Don't you dare leave me now."

You gazed up weakly, lifting a shaky hand toward his scarred face. "Tomura… I'm sorry."

His eyes flashed angrily, but beneath was desperation. "I don’t want apologies—I want you here. Don't leave me, you said you wouldn’t leave me!"

"I never… wanted to leave," you whispered, your voice fading gently. "I loved you too much."

He felt you go still in his arms, a scream trapped painfully in his throat as he clutched your lifeless form tighter, unable to even cry without destroying what remained of the one person who truly loved him.

Toya Todoroki (Dabi)

Dabi cradled your body, hands trembling uncontrollably, eyes wide with helpless rage and grief. Blood seeped slowly between his fingers, mingling with tears he’d never intended to shed.

"You promised me you'd survive," he hissed hoarsely, voice cracking. "You promised you'd never leave."

Your eyes softly met his, a faint smile crossing your pale lips. "I'm sorry, Toya… guess I lied this once."

He clenched his jaw, refusing to accept reality even as your heartbeat weakened beneath his fingertips. "You can't leave me alone in this world—I won't let you!"

Your hand touched his cheek gently. "Keep living… for both of us."

His heart shattered violently as your eyes drifted closed, the warmth fading from your touch. Dabi gripped your lifeless body tightly, flames erupting uncontrollably around him as he cried out your name into the cruel night, forever broken by the love he'd failed to save.

Shuichi Iguchi (Spinner)

Spinner held you protectively, panic flooding his normally steady eyes, voice thick with desperation. "Hey—no, don’t do this! You're tougher than anyone I know."

You weakly smiled, fingertips brushing softly along his scaled face. "Shuichi… thank you for believing in me."

His chest tightened painfully, tears pooling rapidly as he shook his head. "Stop talking like you're saying goodbye! We promised to make this world better together."

Your voice grew faint, eyes slowly closing. "I'm sorry… guess I won't see our dream."

He choked back a sob, clutching you tighter as your breathing faded gently away. "Please—come back," he whispered brokenly, resting his forehead against yours, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. "You were my world."

Spinner remained there, quietly grieving in silence, holding the one person who'd given him true purpose—the one person he'd now lost forever.

Kai Chisaki (Overhaul)

Chisaki’s hands trembled violently beneath his gloves, his breath harsh beneath his mask as he held your broken form, eyes wide with shock. Blood stained your chest, a cruel reminder of his failure. "This is unacceptable," he whispered desperately, voice strained. "I won't allow it."

You smiled faintly, touching his masked face gently. "Kai… it's okay."

"No!" His voice rose sharply, panic slipping through his carefully controlled tone. "I can fix this—just hold still."

Your gaze softened with understanding. "You can't fix this one, Kai… It's my time."

Chisaki’s chest constricted painfully as your eyes slipped shut, life fading from your body. He clutched you tighter, shaking uncontrollably, feeling a wave of helplessness he'd never known. He whispered brokenly, "You promised you wouldn't leave me in this disgusting world alone…"

Jin Bubaigawara (Twice)

Jin cradled you, desperately alternating between panic and denial. "Y/N, hold on! You're fine—you have to be fine!" His voice shattered, shifting abruptly. "No, they're hurt—so badly hurt. We can't lose them!"

You reached up weakly, touching his tear-stained cheek gently. "Jin… I'm sorry."

He sobbed openly, shaking his head wildly. "Don't apologize! You're the only one who understood—who accepted me… us! Don’t go!"

Your eyes softened lovingly. "Please, take care of yourself… for me, okay?"

He froze, heart breaking into countless pieces as your eyes slowly closed, your final breath quiet and gentle. Jin trembled violently, screaming into the darkness, holding your lifeless body, forever torn between the unbearable pain of losing you and the comforting lie that you might still wake up.

Young All for One

All for One cradled your wounded form gently, his calm, confident expression cracking for the first time. His eyes widened slightly, genuine panic flickering behind his usually cold gaze. "This wasn't supposed to happen," he murmured quietly, voice shaking. "I planned everything perfectly."

You smiled faintly, eyes filled with tenderness. "Guess fate… had other plans."

He brushed your hair gently, desperation seeping into his voice. "I'll rewrite fate—I refuse to accept this."

Your fingertips brushed softly against his cheek, voice weak but gentle. "Even you can't rewrite this… I'm sorry."

All for One froze, helplessness and grief overtaking him as your eyes drifted shut, leaving him in a silence he'd never known. Holding your lifeless body, he quietly whispered, "I would've given you the world for you."

Ko-fi / Masterlist

blairxbear © 2024. do not copy, modify, or translate my work. you do not have permission to share my work outside of tumblr!

[train-wrecc]

Waiting. Lee Eun-Hyeok.

(This picture was all I could find y'all 😭 +from Safari)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: The use of "Oppa" (I know some people don't like it or think it's cringey so here's your warning.) Unrequited love? Mentions of blood.

summary: Lee Eun-Hyeok's return.

pairing: Lee Eun-Hyeok x Fem!Reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had felt like an eternity since you had been able to meet his dark brown eyes with those of your own. They looked exactly the same, dark brown, yet they weren't your Lee Eun-hyeok's. They were the brown eyes of a stranger.

He stood in front of you appearing as the same man you had been waiting for, longing for, surviving for. His shoulders no longer held the weight of the world on them, which that you were grateful for. To those who didn't know him, his eyes had always lacked a warmth to them; but to you there had once been a small tinge of lightness in them. Now, they truly held nothing but indifference.

As you took in every inch of him, desperate to familiarize yourself with the sight of him once again, he stood looking at you. He wasn't analyzing your every move like he used to, he was simply looking at you. Nothing more and nothing less.

Your arms itched to wrap themselves around him but you refrained from doing so. The air felt tense, not much could be heard aside from your slight uneven breaths. He turned to walk away, "Are you really leaving me again?" His steps slowed to a stop. From his reaction alone you first thought he didn't recognize you.

His back stayed facing you, "Lee Eun-Hyeok, you've been alive all this time, and not once did you try to look for me?" He couldn't even turn to face you. "Why would I?" You could feel the tears begging to spill from your eyes, but you blinked them away. "Because you love me. You love me like I love you." You reached for his hand but stopped midway fearing that he would pull away.

Just how you feared he'd pull away from your touch you feared his response to your words. "Because I waited for you and I lived for you, I almost died searching for just a glimpse of you..." You quietly let out, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "I never asked you to do any of that." He finally turned toward you. His face was void of emotion, "Do you know the way to the stadium?" His eyes once again met yours, and you looked away not being able to gaze into their emptiness.

"Why are you being like this?"

"So, you don't know how to get to the stadium?" This time you turned your back towards him, trying to catch your breath, because each word he said continued to feel like a punch to the gut, another finger around your throat.

A stray tear stained your cheek, your hand flying up to quickly swipe it away. You faced him once again, "Is that all you care about, huh? The stadium?" You let out a dry laugh. "No," and for a second you had hope, "I don't care about anything, just curious." There he went shredding every ounce of it. 

It broke you out of your trance for a second, turning to look at the bus your brother Cha Hyun-Su was trapped in. You were overwhelmed and not sure what to do, various emotions drowning you. "Help me get Hyun-Su out." You nodded to the bus, not wanting to speak of your feelings for him any longer.

"No, this is his test." He said taking a seat on some steps. You huffed, irritation flooding you. It was as if you were speaking to a wall.  "Yah! Lee Eun-Hyeok do something!" You yelled at him. He simply stared at you blankly. "He's a neo-human. He can get himself out."

"What if he can't? I just found him again, please, Lee Eun-Hyeok..." You whispered shakily, sniffling. "Then I guess you're both useless to me." You didn't ever think you'd hear Eun-Hyeok say something like that to you. The last words he'd said were a promise of love and that he would return to you.

Now he sat in front of you not because he had returned to you, but by chance, because he didn't willingly seek you out. "Don't say that. Stop being like this!" You cried out. "I waited all this time for you, just for you to— to what? Hate me? You said you loved me! You promised me you'd come back and you never did! And now you're— you're acting like this!" You gave up on trying to match his nonchalance, you couldn't take it, couldn't stand the sight of his lips in that straight emotionless line. From his unfurrowed brows to his dry eyes, they all led you to the conclusion that he didn't care.

"I don't hate you, and I don't love you." You couldn't even feel your nails digging into the palm of your hands leaving deep crescent marks.

When did he stop loving you? Why did he stop loving you? You didn't want to know. You just wanted to feel his warm embrace around you. What he should've done when he first saw you. Yet here he was calling you useless, another finger tightening around your throat. You weren't sure when you had started crying but there was no stopping the tears now.

You wanted him to see that he was hurting you, you wanted him to stop. Maybe he could see it in your eyes, your desperation to see a glimpse of the Eun-Hyeok you knew because his next words were "I'm not the Eun-Hyeok you remember." Not even flinching at the sight of your tears.

He used to kiss those same tears away, and now he was the cause of them, the fuel that aided them.

"I'm a neohuman, the next step in human evolution."

"I don't care, Hyeok!" He almost flinched at the memory of your nickname for him. Almost.

"I don't care if you're a neohuman or a monster, all I care about is you! But you don't care about me, you don't love..." you didn't finish your sentence, you couldn't. You could no longer hold your body up, falling to the rough tar of the street. You felt a warm liquid against the skin of your knees due to the fall. That pain was nothing compared to the wound to your heart.

Your chest felt as if it was on fire. "Why are you doing this to me?" You sobbed, your hands coming up to cover your eyes.

"Oppa..." you cried for Hyun-Su. Suddenly Eun-Hyeok was crouched beside you as shards of the bus burst through the air. You uncovered your eyes, tears still falling as you looked at Eun-Hyeok.

"If you got hurt he would never agree to help me." You bit your lip to hold in the sob.

You looked past him to see Hyun-Su standing in front of the remains of the bus. His brown eyes made you cry harder. He was back. Eun-Hyeok stood up, as Hyun-Su made his way toward the both of you.

Once he stood in front of you he pulled you to your feet, before his arms tightly embraced you. "Oppa...you're back." You couldn't help but cry, causing him to gently rub your back in an attempt to calm you. "It's okay." Another attempt to soothe you. You hugged him tighter, begging the ache in your heart to go away. He slightly pulled away as your breathing evened out, but tears still raced down your cheeks. He wiped the tears, "I'm sorry." Escaping his lips.

It felt as if he was apologizing for letting dark Hyun-Su take over but also for Eun-Hyoek's actions.

"It's okay, Hyun-Su." You struggled to put a smile on. Eun-Hyeok began walking off toward the way he assumed the stadium was. You squeezed Hyun-Su's hand, "Thank you for coming back to me." You gently said before letting go. You caught up to Eun-Hyeok, grabbing his wrist to stop him. "I'm not letting you leave again. You can hurt me all you want, I don't care how much more pain I have to go through or how long I have to wait for you, I'll wait." You sniffled.

He turned to face you, "I have my memories, but I don't have any emotions." It felt as if this was his way of  apologizing. "That's how it is for us, and we learn fast." He pulled your hand off his own wrist. "If you're fast learners, you can learn emotions. I'll love you... love you until you learn to love me again." You said in an even voice. He remained silent, turning to walk off again.

Another tear slipped from your red eyes. Grabbing his wrist once again you turned, pulling him in the opposite direction, the correct way to the stadium. Your hand clasped his tightly not allowing him to let go. As you reached Hyun-Su your other hand finding his as you continued to make your way to the stadium. Hyun-Su threw a glare at Eun-Hyeok, infuriated that your tears were his cause.

Hyun-Su squeezed your hand in his pulling you more towards him, "You shouldn't wait for him, he doesn't deserve it." He said as if Eun-Hyeok wasn't even there. If it weren't for your hand tightly gripping his cold one, you'd forget he was even there. "I know, but I—I still love him." You stuttered and glanced at Eun-Hyeok whose sharp eyes never strayed from looking in front of him.

You turned resting your head on Hyun-Su's shoulder, "You don't know how much I missed you, Oppa." Eun-Hyeok's eyes cautiously glanced your way as you weren't looking.

"Me too," Hyun-Su replied glancing toward you, placing a kiss to your forehead. A small smile painted your lips. It was your first genuine smile since he had returned. Lee Eun-Hyeok gazed ahead once again, not wanting to stare at your smile for too long. Something about it caused a stir deep within him.

You had grown used to waiting, almost numb to the feeling. You had waited for Lee Eun-Hyeok, for your brother Cha Hyun-Su, if you had to wait a little longer to truly be united with the man you loved then that is what you will do. You refused to believe that the Eun-Hyeok you love was no longer within the man beside you. You knew deep within him he was there somewhere. Although Eun-Hyeok had crushed all your hope, the return of your Hyun-Su reignited it. You had Hyun-Su now, and that would be enough.

You will ignore the ache in your heart and wait for Lee Eun-Hyeok's return. You will gaze into his dark brown cold eyes with the warmth of your own. Meet his emotionless face with your own filled with desperation, love, any other emotion you could muster. You will love this shell of a man that used to be your Eun-Hyeok. Because it's all you could do.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: Is this my first post in like over a year? Yes… 😭😭 Did I write this at like 4am after I finished watching season 3? Yes.

Also I was v disappointed with Lee Eun Hyeoks return or how it was written I guess, like why was he more loving toward Cha Hyun Su than his sister? 😭😭

+Also where are all the sweet home fics? I’ve read like all of them already 😭

[mncxbe]

WAKING UP NEXT TO...

Denji. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

is feeling the warm rays of sunshine seeping through the half closed blinds of his bedroom window. Denji's laying on his back, his features melted into a mask of pure content as he snores lightly. the traffic outside doesn't seem to bother him, nor does the light falling right on his face.

still, his fingers sometimes twitch as he holds your hand, a sign he's about to wake up soon. he looks so soft and pretty, completely relaxed among warm sheets and your hastly discarded clothes from last night. slowly rolling to your side as not to wake him, you place your hand on his bare chest.

the cord feels warm against your palm and you twirl it around your fingers as you did so many morning before, waiting for him to wake up. relishing his warmth and closeness.

but nothing compares to the moment when he slowly opens his eyes. his gaze falls on you and you're met with the biggest smile in the world. there's a flash of surprise in his golden-brown eyes before his gaze softens again; it's like he realizes you're actually his every morning he wakes up.

"hey, you" he mumbles sleepily, gently rubbing your shoulder and you smile, propping yourself up on your elbow as you peer down at him. "hey. how'd you sleep"

Denji groans, though it sounds more like a whine and shakes his head "'m never staying up so late" you giggle at his words, unconsciously leaning closer to him. the tips of your hair tickle the sensitive skin of his collarbones and he smiles warmly "guess it's my fault for keeping you up so late"

he hums, nodding in agreement as he closes his eyes but you gently shake him awake, your lips pursing into a pout "we gotta go to work soon, baby" Denji lets out another groan, attempting to steal the blanket and turn to the other side but you manage to hook a finger around the cord in his chest. your boyfriend's eyes shoot open when you give the cord a gentle tug and he yelps, slapping your hand away.

"god, woman, you crazy? stop playing around with that you could get hurt."

despite his words, there's no real threat in his voice, but his grip on your wrist doesn't falter. you giggle, pushing yourself up onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. only when your lips meet his does Denji let go of your arm, his hand moving into your tousled hair as he deepens the kiss.

when you pull away you can tell he's wide awake. ruffling his hair, you slowly slide out of bed "come on, get dressed up. i'll make us something to eat" his features visibly relax when you mention the food and he sighs contently. "sounds good, pretty. i'll make the coffee"

Yoshida 𖦹⋆｡˚⋆ฺ

is waking up with his strong arm draped over your ribcage, his hot breath fanning over the back of your neck. it's comforting, safe and you allow yourself to indulge in his warm embrace for a moment before taking your phone from the nightstand to check the time. he's a light sleeper, so he stirs when you move, groaning lightly as he sees you answering some texts.

"what did i say about staying on your phone first thing in the morning?" he mumbles sleepily, languidly reaching for your phone. his fingertips trace down your arm, making goosebumps raise on your skin before he takes the device from your hands and throws it on the other side of the bed.

your pouts and whines fall on deaf ears as he wraps an arm around your waist, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. "Hiro, I was answering an important message"

"your friend and her boy talk can wait" he mumbles, placing slow kisses along the nape of your neck "however, i can't. the sun's not even up, i want my girl to stay with me"

you'd complain, but his deep morning voice has you under a spell. you turn to face him, taking in the view of his pretty face; he truly looks handsome in the soft blue light before sunrise. a hum rumbles in his throat when you toy with his piercings, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "what?" he asks, giving your hip a light squeeze and he can see you shaking your head through half lidded eyes.

"you look handsome when you're sleepy" you blurt out, causing him to chuckle lightly. "nah, you're the beautiful one, pretty girl."

he plays with your hair, letting the silky strands slip between his digits before tucking them behind your ear and closing his eyes. fair enough, you still had at least forty minutes of cuddles and sleep. pulling the duvet over your shoulder, you nuzzle yourself against his chest. Yoshida's scent soothes your soul and you swear you can make out an undertone of your perfume on his skin. you were pretty sure you smelled like him too after spending the whole night in his arms.

[iktomi-toni]

Lighter x reader headcannons + drabble

Ugh I can't get this man out of my head after doing his quest !!!!!

No TW just lots of flirting and mutual pining, gender neutral reader but lightly implied to be fem leaning and shorter than Lighter. I wrote this at 2am, this was wayyy longer than I intended it to be but that's just what Lighter does to me I guess. I did my best to proofread but was tired so please excuse any spelling/ grammar errors.

• Lighter is SUUUCH a flirt. If you're not dating he's definitely flirting with you, winking at you from behind his sunglasses, smirking at you from a distance, anything to see that cute little smile and blush on your pretty little face.

• if you're dating the flirting doesn't stop, like ever. He heard the phrase 'never stop dating your partner' and seriously took it to heart.

• if your relationship isn't quite couple status but you're comfortable with each other his flirting is a little more relaxed. The occasional arm over the shoulder, flexing his muscles through his jacket to show off for you, offering to help anytime you're in need.

• also he is SUCH a cheesy romantic, he definitely watching romance movies for fun and occasionally uses some of the moves from movies on you when the opportunity arises. Bring you a small bouquet of roses, boxes of chocolates, hand written notes, letting you wear his jacket when it gets old. He'd totally court you old fashioned style.

One day you're in Blazewood double checking the contents of your bag as you prepare for a trip to the city when you accidentally bump into Lighter, walking face first into his tight leather jacket you prepare to profusely apologize and ask for forgiveness when you look up and realize who it was. You blush slightly when he looks down at you, "You okay there? Seem a little preoccupied." With his signature smirk and a subtle flex of his muscles he turned to face you.

"Oh! Yeah.. yeah I'm okay! Just was making sure I have everything I need before I head out." You smiled at him, a gentle rosie hue spreading across your cheeks as you looked at him. "Where you heading? I can give you a ride if you'd like." He wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you walked together and talked. "I was just going to head into the city to run some errands, maybe grab some souvenirs for everyone while I'm there since us from Blazewood don't tend to leave very often."

The way he held you close felt so warm and safe, the way he towered over you in a protective manner all while maintaining that same flirtatious, comfortable energy when he spoke only served to make the red tint across your face all the brighter and your heart beat even faster. You weren't entirely sure if he truly felt romantic feelings for you or if he was naturally casually a romantic but it's no like you were complaining, he was obviously very handsome and also extremely kind and loyal so there was no real harm in this little charade.

He ruffled your hair gently and grinned at you with that shiny, award winning smile, "I like that idea, how about I take you there, you can show me 'round the city while we're out, hm?" Smiling and nodding in response, you fixed your hair with a gentle huff, making sure your bag was secured over your shoulder as you both walked towards his bike. "Sure! I'd really appreciate that, thank you!" He passed you a helmet as he straddled his bike waiting for you to get on behind him. Secretly he only offered to give you a ride just so he could feel your arms wrapped around him, though he'd never admit it to your face.

After a peaceful ride from The Outer Ring you guys had finally made it to New Eridu, letting go of Lighter's waist you took off his helmet with a deep breath and flattened out your hair as you hopped off the back of the bike.

Lighter can't deny that he felt a twinge of disappointment when he felt your arms leave his body, he loved the feeling of warmth that came when your body pressed up against his back and now he felt cold when that warmth had left him but he was good at hiding it, all things considered.

"So, where we heading first?" He pushed up his sunglasses and with a flick of his head he simultaneously brushed his hair back a bit, looking at you expectantly. "Well first I figured we could grab a coffee then heading to 141 Convenience and JC Pharmacy. Oh and i also wanted to pick up a new movie from the video store on sixth street!"

You two walked and talked as you sipped your coffees and shopped, picking up a few souvenirs and movie before stopping to say hi to Belle and Wise and Random Play, as you two had left the video store you turned to Lighter, "Hey why don't we get some noodles at General Chop's place! Wise says they're the best noodles around!"

After a very tasty very filling meal at General Chop's it was starting to dark so it was getting to be time to head back to Blazewood so you both headed back to lumina Square where Lighter's bike was located and began to head home. The journey back home was even more beautiful and peaceful than the ride there. With the sun setting on the horizon you could see the desert cliffs and the many hollows in the distance as you guys Lighter from behind for stability on the bike, this was a moment you knew you would always cherish. Soon you ride into Blazewood and pulled up to your residence, with a small melancholy sigh you unwrapped yourself from Lighter and stood up, removing his helmet and handing it back to him you smiled and thanked him for the ride and the company on your trip, he turned off his bike and put it in park, placing his helmet on the seat he stood up and smiled at you before taking a deep breath. "I'm always happy to help you out with whatever you need, maybe we can take another trip together sometime, only maybe we could call it a date instead?" He was grateful it had gotten dark so you couldn't see the growing blush on his face, he's not sure where he got the nerve to ask you or but spending so much time with you today made him realize exactly how much he enjoyed your company and he didn't want the day to end. "I'd love that, Lighter. " looking at the smile on your face and the way you looked at him he almost couldn't help it when he leaned down and kissed you. He was gentle about it, cupping your cheek with his right hand and holding your hip softly with his left, you dropped your bags and wrapped you arms around his neck leaning into the kiss. It was soft and careful, as if he was worried he'd do something wrong or hurt you it he got too excited.

Pulling away breathlessly and still holding onto you he smiled, feeling content and very satisfied with his today's city trip has turned out

[haartemis]

THE ALCHEMY | PART V

pairing: kylian mbappe x fem!reader

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut

summary: working at real madrid is a dream come true— until kylian mbappe, football's biggest star and the last person you ever want to see, joins the club. as tensions rise between you two and the lines between frustration and fascination blur, you wonder: can you truly resist the man you've sworn to hate?

A/N: apologies for the delay, had a serious case of writer's block and tbh i don't feel like this is my best work but alas 🥲. lmk what yall think!!

"see that cafe? that’s where my first girlfriend dumped me" kylian points to the establishment across the street, swirling the ice in his glass.

you squint, not missing a beat. "what a queen"

"says the girl who sleeps in my bed three nights a week" he says, grinning. "you’ve got no ground to stand on"

you can't even come up with a retort - because, honestly, what could you say to that? he’s completely right. so instead, you grab a napkin and throw it across the table at him.

"it's two nights actually" you mumble under your breath as he expertly dodges the napkin. 

"yes, two" he corrects. "last week it was three though"

"yes, but usually it's two, so-"

"it's three nights we’re together anyway, if you count the night i sleep at your place" he says smugly.

you just give him a deadpan look, defeated.

"what?" he winks. "i keep track of everything on my calendar"

it’s true. kylian is intentional with his time. he has to be. his days are usually planned to the minute. sometimes, his schedule is packed so tight there’s barely room to breathe, let alone time for himself. so when he does have free time - real, uninterrupted time - he doesn’t waste it. he spends it with purpose.

these days, that purpose is you.

right now, it's him whisking you away on a weekend getaway to monaco, the place he spent most of his adolescence in, the one that still holds a special place in his heart. you're seated on the terrace of his favorite restaurant here. it's dusk, and the sky is painted in a swathe of beautiful dark blue. in the distance, you can hear the hum of yachts and the occasional rev of an engine. monaco, in all its grandeur. kylian’s monaco.

he’s sitting across from you wearing a white shirt, slightly unbuttoned, a silver dior chain peeking through, and a barely noticeable sheen of sweat on his tanned brown skin. his phone is flipped over on the table, gaze locked on you, fully focused and unwavering, because again, he’s intentional.

"why did she dump you then?" you take a sip of your water.

"i was moving to paris" he shrugs. "didn’t want to do long distance. it was mutual, really. we both knew it wouldn’t work"

"oh i bet you were relieved" you say, laughing, but there’s tension underneath that you’re trying to hide. "probably counting down the days till you could be in your fuckboy era"

"no" he says with a frown. "that was my first heartbreak"

you scoff instinctively, but the light fading from his eyes makes you regret it immediately. there’s something unexpectedly earnest in his face, and you wish you could take back your words, or at least make them sound less tactless.

“i meant..” you laugh awkwardly. “i guess it’s hard to imagine you being heartbroken, it’s easier to picture you as the heartbreaker” 

as soon as the words leave your mouth you realize you’ve made it worse. 

he studies you for a moment, swirling the ice in his glass again.

"we should go" kylian says after a few moments of awkward silence where you’re cringing internally at your blunder. he pointedly avoids your gaze. "paps are bound to show up soon"

back at his house, neither of you says much, the heat of the day leaving you both sluggish. yet the air between you is brimming with something unsaid, something unresolved. eventually, wordlessly, you step into the shower together, letting the water rinse the day away.

you hum absently, lost in the sensation of warmth, of his presence, of the way kylian’s hands settle lightly on your hips as if anchoring himself. his fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending a shiver through you despite the heat of the water.

"i was actually heartbroken, you know" he says suddenly, and you stiffen.

"it hurt a little, the way you were dismissive" he continues.

kylian lifts a hand, fingertips ghosting against your arm before tucking a damp curl back into the loose pineapple ponytail atop your head. your stomach churns with guilt, but you don’t respond.

the silence stretches until he speaks again. "do you still not trust me?"

you turn to face him then. the water is beading against his skin, clinging to his lashes in delicate droplets. his deep brown eyes search yours, unguarded and vulnerable in a way that makes your chest tighten. 

you think back to years ago, when the only version of him you knew was the one on your tv screen. back then, you’d thought the phrase ‘everything is uglier up close’ was especially true for celebrities, who you’d always heard lost their polish and perfection in mundane, everyday life, revealing themselves to be just as ordinary as everyone else. but here, in the middle of the intimate activity of showering together, you realize that can't be more false. kylian doesn’t hold the same carefully controlled presence he does in public, yes, but he’s beautiful. breathtakingly beautiful, in a way that makes you feel like your heart might burst if you think about it too much. 

"no, i do" you murmur reassuringly. "of course i do. i'm sorry i reacted that way. i guess... old habits die hard"

his gaze lingers on you, assessing, as if weighing the truth in your words. a quiet exhale escapes him, almost like relief, and he pulls you into his arms. chest to chest, the heat of his skin against yours, the steady rush of water cascading over you both. your hands skim up the hard ridges of his spine, feeling the way he relaxes under your touch. his lips find your temple, a soft brush that speaks of the adoration he has for you.

"we can’t keep going in circles" he murmurs against your forehead, and you know he’s right.

afterward, you lie in bed together, legs tangled in the sheets. kylian sleeps soundly beside you, his arm draped over your waist, the steady rise and fall of his breathing the only sound in the room. he holds you close even in sleep, almost instinctively.

you, on the other hand, are wide awake, your mind restless, thoughts spiraling in endless loops.

you’re self-aware enough to know that your earlier reaction, the thoughtless way you brushed him off, came from a place of hesitation. a tiny part of you, buried deep but still present, is still wary. old habits really do die hard.

it doesn’t help that you’re seeing each other, but you haven’t defined what that really means. your first date in paris has come and gone, and there’s an unspoken understanding that you like each other, that this is something. but nothing has been made official. no labels as of yet.

still, the man is practically cohabitating in your space. just last week, he ordered a playstation console just for your apartment. you’ve started leaving clothes at his place, your yoga mat tucked in the corner of his bedroom like it belongs there. you spend so much time together, wrapped up in each other’s lives. sneakily, without you even realizing it, he’s become your best friend. 

and now, lying here in the dark, with the warmth of his body against yours, you realize - you want to be his girlfriend. really be his.

yes, his life is very complicated. yes, it would mean stepping into a world that isn’t always kind. but you like him. more than that: you want him. and you want him to want this, too. but the problem is, you don’t know if he does. the thought has been lodged in your head for a while now, and sometimes, the part of you that’s a tiny bit insecure wonders if you’d inadvertently gotten yourself into a situationship, if  just you’re a placeholder in his bed until he gets bored of you and he moves on to someone new. 

you stir awake early the next morning to the sound of kylian’s voice, low and murmuring into the phone. for a moment, the only thing you can focus on is how sexy he sounds with his groggy, just-woke-up morning voice. 

he notices you stirring and shoots you a small smile, but it fades almost instantly as the person on the other end speaks. he lets out a quiet groan in frustration.

"are you sure we can't do this another time?" he says, thumb running over the pendant of the necklace he gave you as you snuggle closer. 

a pause. his brows knit together. "yes, i'm upset" he replies. "this whole weekend was meant for me and y/n. i specifically asked you not to schedule anything. you know what i had planned for tonight specifically, i-” he stops, biting his tongue. his eyes nervously flicker to you, as if checking for something. 

another pause. he sighs. "i know it's not your fault”

after a while, he finally hangs up, exhaling sharply as he tosses his phone onto the mattress. you watch as he rubs a hand over his face, the tension in him unmistakable.

"i have to go to caen” he says after a beat, turning to face you. "i need to meet with the new coach and the team. something came up, and they need me there in person"

you yawn, still caught in the haze of sleep. "caen" you repeat, processing. cm caen - the club he owns. of course. 

"yeah" he sighs, rolling onto his side to face you properly. "i'm really sorry. i didn’t plan for this, but i have to handle it" his fingers find yours beneath the sheets, tracing over your knuckles. "i wanted this weekend to be just us”

disappointment washes over you. you’d both had a long, exhausting week - him with training and a match, you adjusting to your new job. time together has been scarce, and this trip was supposed to be a chance to just be with each other without interruptions. something that’s  starting to feel more and more like a luxury. last night, you even decided you were finally going to bring up the “what are we?” conversation today. but now the weekend is getting cut short, because he has to get on a stupid plane, to fly across the stupid country, to deal with his stupid clu–

"come with me," he says suddenly, like the thought has only just occurred to him.

“to caen?” you scrunch your nose. "wouldn't that be a bit unprofessional? me tagging along on your business trip?"

he smirks as he hops out of bed. "my club, my rules. i can bring whoever i want"

your brain short-circuits slightly at the sight of him, all long limbs and sculpted muscles. he’s standing in nothing but his boxers, which hang low on his hips and draw attention to the sharp v-line cutting down his abdomen. your hands itch to slide the fabric lower, to reveal what’s underneath.

"right," you murmur, dragging your gaze back up. "and what exactly will you be doing there?"

he shrugs, already moving between the closet and the bed, laying out his clothes for the day. "mostly talking to the players and management. rallying the troops, boosting morale. making sure everything's running smoothly"

you snort. "rallying the troops?"

he grins, dimples flashing. "what? i can be very persuasive"

"mhmm" you hum, unimpressed.

he disappears into the bathroom, and a second later, you hear the water turn on. "so, you coming?" his voice carries over the running shower. "or do you wanna stay? pool’s nice here, you know, the jacuzzi is even better” he says, then sighs dramatically. "shame i won’t be around to see you in a bikini, but hey, can’t have it all"

"no,i’ll come" you interrupt, already swinging your legs over the bed.

"perfect" he says. then, teasingly "come in here, the water’s nice. i’ll rub your back the way you like"

you don’t need to be told twice.

club president kylian is different from regular kylian in the way he carries himself. his voice is  a touch deeper and subtly authoritative, his gestures more deliberate, his posture straighter, like a man who knows he’s in charge. but club president kylian is also very much the same as regular kylian in one particular way - he keeps a possessive hand on your lower back at all times during the introductory meeting with staff. 

the introductions give you an odd sense of deja vu, and for a while, you can’t figure out why. then it clicks - your first meeting with kylian at the real madrid offices. the coffee stained white shirt, your less than subtle jabs at him, the way he’d pretended to forget your name even though your boss had (re)introduced you properly.

funny, really. because right now, you catch the briefest flicker of panic in his eyes as he actually forgets someone’s name. the kitman, standing right in front of him, who had been introduced to him barely an hour ago.

kylian prides himself on his memory, because it’s one of the things he’s obnoxiously good at. which makes this moment even more entertaining, considering you (who admittedly have been half dissociating through most of this meeting) still remember that the guy’s name is hugo.

you watch, thoroughly amused, as kylian stumbles over his words, realizing too late that he’s blanking. then he subtly flicks his gaze to you in silent plea, as if saying help me out here.

you simply raise an innocent eyebrow, offering no lifeline. and with no other choice, he  awkwardly continues the conversation while skillfully avoiding using the poor guy’s name.

when hugo finally walks away, you lean into kylian’s side, fighting the urge to laugh. “it was hugo, by the way”

“yeah thanks for nothing” kylian says through gritted teeth, fake smile plastered on his face. 

you grin. “anytime, président”

a little while later, you and kylian find yourselves in conversation with the new coach, casual small talk filling the gaps before the two of them sit down and get into the real discussion. the coach mentions his love for camembert cheese and how cheese making has been a long time hobby of his, one that has recently turned into a small business. 

kylian, ever eager to engage, nods along. “oh yeah, i love camembert. one of my favorites”

you blink. “really?” your voice is all innocent curiosity, but the glint in your eyes says otherwise. “i thought you said you hated it. something about the smell being too strong?"

he shoots you a sharp look, subtle but immediate. the coach chuckles and graciously makes a passing comment about camembert being an acquired taste, but kylian’s focus is solely on you. his fingers tighten slightly on your back, just enough for you to notice.

“that was years ago” he says smoothly, not missing a beat. “tastes change”

you nod slightly, unconvinced, but drop it.

his hand lowers to your ass, fingers squeezing for just a second before sliding back up to your back. the touch is quick and discreet, but you know it’s a warning. somehow, that only spurs you on.

“you told me that two months ago, actually” you blurt. from the corner of your eye, you catch kylian’s assistant look at the ground, trying not to laugh. 

kylian's eyes narrowing slightly. you can practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to remember whatever damning statement he made about camembert two months ago.

"did i?" he asks, voice light.

you nod, feigning innocence. "mmhmm. you said, and i quote, ‘it smells and tastes like feet, people who like this stuff need their taste buds snatched away from them’"

a small, strangled sound comes from his assistant, who’s still avoiding eye contact. the coach chuckles, amused. kylian, on the other hand, is less entertained.

“i..don’t really recall saying that” he finally chuckles awkwardly.

"funny how your taste changes when you're trying to impress people" you murmur under your breath, just for him to hear.

he exhales sharply through his nose, shifting on his feet. "careful" he warns, voice low.

you merely smile.

you keep going, intentionally ramping up the awkwardness in every interaction he has with his staff members. when one of the team nutritionists curiously asks if you’re his girlfriend, you simply turn to kylian and leave him in the hot seat. he stammers through half a sentence before awkwardly changing the subject. when another staff member comments on his surprising punctuality for the meeting, you seize the moment to casually remark (loud enough for everyone to hear) that he was irritatingly late the first time he visited the real madrid offices.

and when his assistant hands him a folder and absentmindedly says “don’t lose this please”, you gasp theatrically, turning to kylian with wide eyes. “wait, you actually read documents before signing them? that’s new”

kylian only clears his throat.

when it’s time to speak to the players, the coach mentions that they’ve just finished training and are in the locker room. there’s an unspoken understanding that you won’t be joining for the pep talk, and you have no intention of protesting, because honestly you have zero desire to be in a room filled with sweat and testosterone. kylian’s face immediately lights up in relief too, as if he’s thanking his lucky stars you won’t be able to embarrass him any more. it makes you smile. 

before you know it, the locker room talk is over, and so is the trip. you hop on the plane, and just like that, you’re back in madrid. a small part of you wonders if you should feel overwhelmed, maybe even be put off by kylian’s lifestyle. after all, how many 26 year olds spend their sundays flying across the country to check in on the football club they own ? how many times has kylian pushed aside the needs of his personal life to attend to his professional one? 

but the truth is, you’re not put off at all. if anything, you’re grateful for the glimpse into this side of him, for the way his relentless ambition makes him even more attractive to you, and most of all, for the opportunity to get under his skin. yes, especially that last part.

when you get to kylian’s house, he’s understandably exhausted after a full day of nonstop conversations and meetings. there’s no need for words; you both fall into a comfortable quiet, the kind that comes naturally after spending enough time with someone.

the evening starts innocently. the tv plays softly in the background, tuned into your favorite reality show, though neither of you are really paying attention. kylian is stretched out on the bed, his head resting in your lap, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers move idly over his scalp. he hums in relaxation, the tension from the day slowly melting away under your touch.

his breathing evens, his body growing heavier against you, and for a moment, you think he might have fallen asleep. but then, without opening his eyes, he murmurs, “you had fun annoying me today, didn’t you?”

you grin, nails scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. “i don’t know what you’re talking about”

he lets out a quiet laugh as his fingers tighten softly against your thigh. “you’re lucky i was too busy to deal with you properly” he muses, voice low and drowsy.

you tilt your head. “oh? and what exactly would dealing with me properly look like?”

you reach for the remote to turn off the tv, the movement causing your camisole to dip just enough to give him a perfect view of your braless cleavage. from where his head rests on your thigh, kylian’s gaze flickers downward shamelessly. 

his exhaustion seems to evaporate in real time, because suddenly he lifts his head from your lap and grabs your waist, effortlessly laying down on the bed properly and hovering over you. 

you barely have a second to breathe before his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. 

“two months ago” he murmurs against your lips, voice dripping with mockery “you told me that two months ago”

“just keeping you honest” you murmur, savoring the feeling of his mouth on yours. 

he starts nipping at your bottom lip before dragging his mouth down your jaw, your neck, making his way lower.

his hands are everywhere at once. palming your waist, slipping beneath the hem of your camisole, spreading warmth across your skin with each touch. his mouth follows the path his hands don’t take, lips pressing open mouthed kisses down your chest.

"you love running that mouth don’t you?" he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. he moves back up to scrape his teeth lightly over where your pulse is, making you shiver. "love embarrassing me in front of my staff"

you can’t even pretend to deny it, not when his hands are pushing your shorts down your hips, and his voice is low and possessive, just the way you like it. 

"didn’t think you’d mind" you tease, albeit in a breathy and uneven voice.

kylian chuckles, lips pressing against the sensitive skin just below your ear. " no i don’t mind" his fingers tighten around your thighs, spreading them apart effortlessly. "might like it actually, because when you get on my nerves i always want to fuck you right after"

and then he palms you through your underwear, hand cupping you possessively before he drags his fingers over the damp fabric of your underwear, just barely applying pressure, enough to have you arching into his touch instinctively.

you make a sound of protest as he increases the pressure, something between a whine and a sigh, but kylian just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your jaw before pulling back slightly, his fingers still tracing slow, torturous circles over you.

“what’s wrong?” he says smugly. “why so quiet now?”

you don’t reply, at least not with words. instead, you guide his wrist from your crotch to the hem of your camisole. he gets the hint and he quickly tugs the top off you.  his breath hitches, eyes darkening as they flicker over your bare skin. you’ve done this a hundred times, maybe more, but it still knocks him off balance. still makes him pause, like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

his hands find your waist, thumbs brushing over your ribs as he leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss between your breasts before tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

“i want to be on top” you say, fingers tightening around his shoulder in anticipation. 

“no, you’ll get tired eventually” he says conversationally as he slides your panties down and tosses them aside.  

“are you saying i’m weak?”

he rolls his eyes. “no, i’m just saying you’ll get tired”

you don’t give him the chance to argue further. you just grab his face and kiss him, slow and deep, swallowing whatever smug remark he was about to make. he groans into your mouth, momentarily distracted, and that’s all the opening you need.

with a swift shift of your weight, you flip yourselves over, catching him off guard as his back meets the mattress. he blinks up at you, startled, and you can’t help the triumphant smirk that grows on your lips.

“you were saying?” you tease, settling over him.

he exhales a sharp breath in frustration, hands gripping your hips. then a slow  grin spreads across his face. “fine. you're feeling obstinate today” he says, fingers trailing up your spine. “let’s see how long you last”

in no time, you strip off his boxers and guide him to where you want him, lining him up to enter you. but before you let him in, you drag him against your folds, slow and deliberate, letting the anticipation build. back and forth, again and again, until he lets out an impatient groan, his grip on your hips tightening.

you only smirk, rolling your hips just enough to keep him on edge. “what’s the rush?” you murmur, leaning down to press a teasing kiss to his lips.

he exhales sharply, and before you can push him any further, he tightens his grip and thrusts up, burying himself inside you in one smooth motion.

a sharp gasp escapes your lips, your fingers clutching his shoulders as your body adjusts, stretching to take him in. his head falls back against the pillow, a low, guttural “putain” spilling from his mouth as he sinks deeper, reveling in the way you wrap around him.

and then you start moving. slowly at first, because you don’t want to expend all your energy at once. but an impatient tap on your ass from kylian lets you know he’s not satisfied, so you pick up the pace and set a steady rhythm. he feels good, really good. and you know you feel good too, just by the way he’s fighting not to squeeze his eyes shut, by the way his mouth is slightly parted and  letting out quiet grunts, the way his hands can’t decide whether to stay on your hips, grab your ass, or squeeze your breasts. it makes you feel powerful. 

soon enough your thighs begin to burn, muscles straining under the effort. you try to push through it, but the ache grows too much to ignore. the pace falters, and you finally slow, catching your breath.

kylian pulls out and flips you over. you groan in frustration, missing the sensation of being full of him.

“i fucking told you so” he says as he diligently arranges a pillow for your lower back.  he’s nothing if not an attentive lover. “sometimes just do as i say”

when you’re positioned in a way where the angle is just right, he slips back into you with a hiss. 

he immediately starts pounding into you, the pace so quick and powerful it makes your movements while you were riding him feel like a snail’s pace. your hands grip his back for dear life, moans spilling out of your mouth almost involuntarily.  

he stills for a moment, a shudder running through him briefly before spilling into you. you follow suit straight after, a wave of toe curling pleasure washing over you. it’s so profound, it makes your ears ring. what happens next, though, punches through any heightened sensations:

“i think i love you”  kylian says into the crook of your neck as he collapses onto you.

the audacity of this man.

“think?” you snap. “don’t open your mouth if you’re not sure, kylian”

his breath is still uneven against your skin, body warm and yielding against yours, but your words make him lift his head.

he bursts out laughing. “you’re unbelievable”

“semantics matter” you say seriously. “you either love me or you don’t”

his fingers trace slow patterns against your thigh, arching his brows at you with an amused look. then, with that same infuriating certainty he always carries, he leans in and kisses you. 

“i love you” he corrects as he pulls away. “ i know i love you. never been more certain of anything, actually”

your heart stumbles over itself at his words, your grip on his shoulders tightening instinctively. suddenly, you’re hyperaware of the way he’s looking at you, waiting. you could tease him, make him sweat a little, but for once, you decide against it.

“good” you whisper. “i love you too”

“good” he repeats playfully as he carefully pulls out of you, settling next to you with a satisfied sigh. 

a contemplative silence settles over you, until he blurts: “this isn’t the way i’d planned to say it you know”

“what do you mean?”

“i had this whole dinner planned for tonight” he starts, voice quieter now. “romantic and everything. I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend” he clears his throat, like saying it out loud makes him self conscious. “but then caen happened, and-” he shakes his head, laughing softly, almost to himself.

“you should know…this is how it is with me” he continues. “my life is crazy. plans change, things come up, and I don’t - I don’t know if i can be the perfect partner, at least not in the traditional sense. i can’t always be there, physically. my career takes up so much of my time. and to be honest i think, deep down, I was afraid that might scare you off”

he sighs as you turn on your side so you’re face to face. “I was meant to say all of this at dinner, explain it properly. but I guess I’ll just say it now. i love you” he pauses, as if gathering his thoughts. “you’re my favorite person, and if we’re really going to be together, because i want to and i really hope you do too, i swear i’ll do everything in my power to make it work. but I won’t lie to you, it won’t always be easy. there will be things you’ll have to sacrifice. your privacy. maybe even your sanity sometimes” his lips twitch, but his eyes stay serious. “and I know that’s a lot to ask. but even with all that… do you want to do this with me?”

the second the words leave him, he exhales deeply, like he’s been holding them in for too long. 

you don’t respond for a few seconds, processing his words. then, finally, you chuckle. “If i’d known all of this, i would’ve been much nicer to you at caen” 

kylian playfully kicks your leg under the sheets. “i knew you were pissed about something” 

“i was” you admit.  “i thought we were in this weird limbo, and i didn’t want it to be like that”

“i get it” he assures, hands softly stroking your cheeks. “i wish i was more communicative with you”

“me too” you murmur. “and by the way, i do want to do this with you. you’re worth it to me. you’re worth whatever craziness comes with being with you”

your gaze drops to his lips which are still slightly swollen, glistening and unbearably tempting. and as if drawn by some invisible force, you lean in and kiss him. it’s slow, languid, unhurried, the kind of kiss that lingers and stretches time. you wonder how many evenings like this you have to look forward to - ones spent wrapped up in each other, basking in the quiet intimacy of just being. The thought fills you with something light, an overwhelming feeling of excitement. 

when you finally pull back, you give him a pointed look. “don’t think you’re off the hook. i expect that romantic dinner to be postponed, not canceled”

kylian brushes his lips against yours again, already chasing more. “never said otherwise”

“i have conditions too” you say in between kisses. “if you want me to be your girlfriend” 

“and what are they?” he chuckles. 

“first of all, you need to get a driver’s license” you say in a serious tone, even though your eyes betray that you’re joking. “i can’t have a boyfriend that can’t drive. like optics wise, that’s kind of embarrassing for me. sorry” 

“right” he huffs out a laugh. “what would people say?”

“exactly” you deadpan. 

“ok. driver’s license. noted” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “anything else?”

“TBD” you say. kylian gives you a mock-understanding nod, playing along.  you fall into a spell of silence for a bit, the only sound being your heartbeats drumming in tandem.

“why did your bodyguard lie about your height?” you suddenly ask.

“huh?” he sounds taken aback at the unexpected question.

“the night we met, your bodyguard said you’re 6 feet tall”

he shrugs. “i don’t know. maybe he thought he was doing me a favor” he laughs. “but it clearly didn’t work”

“didn’t matter anyway, i still ended up sleeping with you, didn't i?” you say, shaking your head. “and i know we got off on the wrong foot, but i’m still grateful, you know”

he kisses your forehead lovingly. “good. because you’re stuck with me now”

a sense of serenity washes over you at his words because, you know, deep in your bones,  you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

THE END

tags: @idontknowwhatthisvis555 @nowrosesaredead @iuoiyr @acarolnzinhaa-03 @ynkfreeastheocean @scottishthistle @user6373738 @loonworld @whateveryouloser @greyishbach @ajsboys @kyliansonlygf @lucysantos6-blog @tuliptopiasstuff @kennasutopia @cinderellawithashoe @akiracim @kymb-10 @germanapples @heartbreakylian @ishaaglobus2002 @flawlessdiamond1 @ouiouibaguettei @kylianmb9 @peaceiswonderful @maricciardo @monodolan @borikenlovee @rmadridcore @nngkay