#anyways. still shaky and slowly finding both of their voices

[adelaidedrubman]

wip wednesday on day one nanowrimo sick and twisted world

i was tagged on this extra Fucked Up wip wednesday by my loves @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat and @nightbloodbix! outgoing tags below cut for space efficiency + join the writing tag list here!

actually trying to do nanowrimo for the first time, albeit nontraditionally and jumping between a few projects. (yell at me about which ones if desired.) so here’s an excerpt from a bg3 oneshot on the november agenda: lae’zel and my rogue gnome girlie millie having an emotionally constipated debrief following All Of That at the crèche. no real spoiler warning for this one since they are being vague, but a small warning for idle but insincere suicidal ideation + character cracking joke on said topic 

Millie swung her legs back and forth, dangled off the ledge of the cliff.  She leaned back, palms pressed against rock, looking down at them — at the skin growing more weathered, dry and cracked by the day — rather than down into the chasm. She would wait here stubbornly, she thought, until someone came looking for her. 

If she was lucky, she thought, that would mean she would wait there forever — wait sitting right there for ages there until she grew too weak for her body to hold itself up, and she went limp and plummeted off the cliff in her sleep none the wiser, before she ever had to worry about losing herself to the tadpole.  A soft whisper of wind that never reached to brush her skin told her she was not so lucky.  Attuning her ears to the barely audible rustle of the footsteps told her everything else she needed to know — light, airy and quick, but forceful and sure.  “Lae’zel,” she noted flatly, without lifting her gaze from her own hand pressed against cragged rock. She studied the smattering of sunlight filtering through trees to create blotches of warm bronze against her skin amongst the web of shadows cast by leaves.  She’d spent so long clinging to the shadows — being nothing, nobody, anytime she wanted.  Finding solitude, oblivion in the blink of an eye, as soon the whim to disappear struck her.  Now, here she was — stuck with a camp full of companions her survival necessitated not abandoning, despite her heart crying for space. Including one companion adept enough at tracking her down Millie couldn’t even carve out a five minute illusion of having left them behind.  Hells, she couldn’t have truly held the illusion, anyways. Even with no other soul around, the idle wriggle of the tadpole tickling the depths of her brain would always be there to remind her she wasn’t truly alone.  Millie sighed, the presence of the woman behind her likewise heavily felt despite her lack of audible response.  “If you’re skulking about back there so you can push me off the ledge, make quicker work of it. I’m not that keen on putting up a fight, anyways.”  “Tch,” Lae’zel spat, single syllable stinging with the acidity of disgust. “I would not soil my hands claiming empty victory against an opponent pathetic enough to welcome death,” she replied. “I will turn my sword on you at your surrender should the tadpole overtake you. But only then.” Still not turning around, she droned, “Lae’zel, it’s me — Millie the ghaik.” “Your foolishness is normally tolerable, hardened as it is by your ferocity,” Lae’zel replied, drawn out with a hiss of disdain. “But in the wake of the embarrassment you proved at the Crèche, I find my patience for it thinned.”

no pressure tags out to beloveds @g0dspeeed @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @afarcryfrommymain @poetikat @just-another-wasteland-merc @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @belorage @deputyash @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @thedeadthree @ladyofedens-blog @miyabilicious @simplegenius042 @henbased @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @strafethesesinners @quickhacked @jackiesarch @v0idbuggy @orionlancasterr @stacispratt @8bitpizzacoupons @strangefable @shallow-gravy @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @corvosattano and anyone who wants to share!

[tbaluver]

Hiii! If it's okay can I request reader pranking LADS men with 'lets breakup' just to see their reaction? ;D

Break Up Prank - The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader genre/tags: angsty w/ comfort-ish at the end a/n: hihi anonnie ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i ened up writing this more angsty mainly bc i just think they would be devasted if you ever wanted to leave them .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. anyways i hope this was alright and that you enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

“This bread should go well with the chocolate milk. Would you like to try?” He asks, offering it to you with a soft smile.

You take a deep breath, keeping your voice as steady as possible. “I think we should break up.” The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it instantly. You watched his eyes widen and his entire body freeze. His hands, still holding the bread midair, slowly lowers.

“what?” He says weakly, trying to process what’s happening. “I..I don't get it.” His smile slowly disappears, a frown replacing it instead. His eyes search yours desperately to find any clue, any hints to find an answer. “Did I do something wrong?” He stammered, his gaze shifting downward as his heart sank all the way down to his body.

You don’t think you can go further with this prank any longer, feeling immediately guilty. “I was just kidding! It’s a prank, Xavier,” You say, trying to lighten the mood but yet the tension in the air still remains.

He doesn’t move, his eyes are uncertain, flicking between you and his plate. “Are you sure?” His voice was quiet, trying to convince himself it was a joke but a part of him still thought otherwise. “If there is something wrong, if there’s anything I can do-” He trails off but before he can say anything more, you rush to his side, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

“I'm so sorry, Xavier. I shouldn't have done that. Tara and I saw it online, and I thought it would be funny. I promise I love you, and I would never want to leave you.” For a while, he doesn’t respond, but slowly, he pulls you closer, burying his face into your neck. His breath is a little shaky, but you feel his shoulders relax just a little.

“I didn't want to lose you,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. His hair tickles your neck and you can feel the soft sigh of relief as the tension leaves his body.

“Do you still want to eat your snacks?” you pull away slightly, cupping his face but he shakes his head. His arms tighten around you as he buries himself back into your neck.

“Let's just stay like this for a while,” He murmurs, his voice still slightly shaky. His appetite has vanished entirely, replaced by a need for comfort and that you’re both going to be okay. He should’ve never given bread another chance.

Zayne:

“You shouldn’t sit like that. It can lead to lower back discomfort." Zayne says softly, his hands carefully help you adjust your position as he places a pillow behind your head.

“I don't think this is working out. I think we should end this.” You kept your tone flat, not a hint of a smile or a crack of a laugh to give away the joke. The air around you both goes still, and Zayne stops mid-sentence on his lecture for your posture and health. His throat goes dry while his eyes narrow as if trying to process what you’ve said.

There was an awkward silence between you both until he cleared his throat, adjusting his tie as if it were the only thing he could focus on to keep himself together. “May I ask where this is coming from, my love?” His nickname for you came into a hushed whisper, unsure if he could even use that name at this moment.

“Can we please talk it out? If it’s my nagging that’s become too much, then I’ll stop..my only intention is to look after you.” He’s trying to keep his composure, but you can hear the hurt in his words. “If there's anything else I've done or said, anything I can fix together with you.. I promise-”

You can feel the guilt creeping in each time he speaks. You couldn’t ignore how it affected you and how he was so serious and vulnerable. This prank has gone a little too far, and the laughter you held back was now gone. ”Zayne, wait! I'm so sorry it was just a prank!” You rushed, “I thought it would be funny..I saw this video online..”

Zayne's eyes flutter close as he sighs heavily. “Forgive me..I forgot I'm dating a comedian,” He mutters under his breath, a half smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He shakes his head, a slow exhale escapes past his lips. “I'm glad everything’s alright. May I?” He steps closer to you, his arm outstretched into an embrace. But before you can say anything else, he playfully flicks your forehead.

“Hey!” You protest, but you can feel the soft chuckle rumble in his chest as you pull into his embrace. His breath tickles your skin, and you can’t help but smile, knowing how much loved you are.

���I only ask for you not to prank me like that again. I'm already growing enough white hairs because of you.”

Rafayel:

You instantly regretted ever finishing that sentence.

You watched the way the light in his eyes disappear. His heart seemed to crack, threatening to shatter into a million pieces as the pain washed over his face.

His nebula eyes looked at you in disbelief, unable to comprehend the words that just left your lips were true. The brush in his hand slipped from his fingers as his whole body went limp. His lips trembled, fighting back the flood of emotions threatening to break through.

“I-was it....do you really want that?” His voice shook, the words barely escaping past his lips. His chest tightened, hoping he didn’t hear the answer he dreads. “Was there something I’ve done, cutie?” His gaze drops, his lips pursing as he tries to recall something, anything, that would explain what he did wrong. “I can do better..we can work it out together, yeah? Tell me what’s wrong..” His eyes were pleading, desperate.

You could see the depth of his pain and the way he blamed himself, even though you knew that this was just a prank. It broke your heart, and you couldn’t keep going, the guilt was suffocating enough. “Raf, no! You did nothing wrong. It was just a prank!”

His mouth fell open in shock. “...what?” His voice was weak, a soft gasp escaping him as he dramatically collapsed back onto the couch. “Pranks are supposed to be funny! That wasn’t funny!” He groaned, relief flooding through him. “Dun ever do that to me again, hmph..” He mumbles, his hand still over his face as he tries to collect himself. “Hold me..”

He lets you pull him into your arms, his cheek pressing into your shoulder, the weight of his body finally relaxing as he feels you close. He let out a deep breath as if he were holding it in for too long. “I thought my heart stopped for a moment, cutie..” He murmurs, “Promise me we’ll work through everything?”

Sylus:

“Sweetie-” Sylus’s voice echoes at the front door. You were already in the living room, arms crossed, while you tried to keep your face unreadable.

“We should break up.” You say flatly.

He flinched at the sudden words. The small box he had wanted to surprise you with was clutched tightly as he tried to process your words. His face was in disbelief. His eyes searched for yours, trying to find some sign of a joke. But your expression was cold and unreadable. He set the box down on the table, his movements felt too slow.

“Is there a particular reason you feel this way?” His voice was barely a whisper. You didn’t answer right, the silence in the air was heavy, suffocating even. He took a step forward towards you, hesitant. “Is there any way I can fix this?” The hurt in his eyes was palpable as he slowly reached for you, cupping your face gently. His thumb brushed over your cheek, searching for any sign that could give him an answer.

But you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You felt the weight of his touch, the weight of his words, and the devastation in his eyes. “Sylus..I’m sorry, it was just a prank..”

His breath hitched, his thumb stopping as he froze. His eyes closed as he inhaled sharply as he’d been hit by a wave of relief. “What will I do with you..” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes fluttered open slowly, amusement flicking across his face. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” He asked, raising a brow.

You shook your head quickly, guilt flooding you. “No Sylus. You’re perfect. I’m sorry.. It was funnier in my head. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You had me worried there for a second, sweetie,” Sylus speaks quietly. His fingers graze your hair as he pulls you into an embrace. His lips press softly to the top of your head, and the fear of losing you again still lingers in him.

Caleb:

“Hey pipsqueak, what’re you in the mood for? I’m thinking maybee something savory, or how about something spicy?” He glanced over at you. His warm smile was infectious, as always, but you tried to stay strong. His expression faltered when he saw the look on your face.

“I don’t think this is working out anymore. Let's break up.”

Each word stung, his smile immediately disappearing. He blinked, his mind racing to process what you had just said, the grip on the wooden spoon tightened without him realizing it. Maybe he didn’t hear you right, yeah definitely.

“Sorry..maybe you want something sweet? Or if you’re tired of my cooking, how about takeout?” He tilts his head, refusing to believe it.

“No, Caleb. Let's break up.” The words felt sharper this time, slicing his heart into a million little pieces that no one could ever pick up. You could see it in his eyes, his entire world was crumbling. Every muscle in his body tensed as his breath caught in his throat. His face faltered for a second, his brow furrowing deeply as he set the spoon down with trembling hands.

“Pip-Y/n..where is this coming from?” His voice is quiet now as he takes a step closer. His purple eyes were a mix of confusion and hurt, his hands remained stiff by his sides, almost as if they didn’t know what to do. “Hey..what’s going on? Talk to me, please..” His voice cracked at the end, desperate.

Even though there was only a few inches of distance between you, it felt like the distance was growing further and further. “I can fix it..please..just tell me what to do..anything..” His chest tightened as his mind spun in a thousand different directions. What did he do? What went wrong?

You could see the pain written across his face, a mixture of panic, disbelief, and heartache that made yours ache. Without thinking, you reached out to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Caleb’s body was stiff at first as if he didn’t know how to respond, but once he felt your arms tighten, he exhaled slowly.

“I’m sorry, Caleb..I shouldn’t have said that. It was just a stupid prank,” you whispered. However, the words didn’t sink in right away. His body remained frozen, still processing everything.

He pulled back slightly, his hands shaking as he cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek like he was trying to make sure you were real. “Really? You’re not leaving?”

You nodded, “I’m not. I love you, and I won’t ever leave you.”

He exhaled sharply, his body finally relaxing against you as the tension in his body began to unwind. “You almost got me there, pipsqueak...” He let out a weak laugh, his voice still shaky as he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “Maybe you should stick to cilantro-flavored toothpaste pranks next time..”

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ thank you to my beta readers for helping me with this ! @ilovemitsuya and @pomegranatepip MWAH ₊˚⊹ᰔ

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love And DeepSpace Masterlist , Pg.2

[twd-bee3]

"Say Thank You, Baby."

Summary: While having sex, Daryl keeps brushing off your compliments. You pick up on it and go out of your way to convince him of just how perfect you think he is.

Warnings/Tags: purely smut, 18+ mdni, insecurity, praise kink, blowjob, slightly submissive Daryl, self-doubt, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season five, no use of y/n

Word count: 879 words

A/N: This was inspired by a scene in Elsie Silver's book Heartless, where the FMC struggles with accepting compliments and the MMC works to change that. My brain immediately thought of Daryl and the glimpses of his insecurity that we see in the show. This is purely self-indulgent, and I'm obsessed with reading the way my favorite mutual @b1eedthefreak writes submissive Daryl, so I gave it a go. This was also partly written for @darylsdelts. Anyway, this is my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it is dogshit.

Inside your bedroom, the two of you were lying in your bed, and your fingers were idly grazing Daryl's arm. He was always quiet after sex, but you never minded. You had always assumed that it was because he was tired. Tonight felt different, though.

“You okay, baby? Ain't done too much or nothin'?”

Slightly surprised that you had picked up on his tension, Daryl felt a bit embarrassed, and he shrugged off your concern. His voice was a little strained, which was a dead giveaway that he was overthinking.

“Just thinkin'.”

“Well, don't be thinkin' too hard. Ain't want you to hurt your pretty little head.”

Your tone may have been teasing, but your compliments always got to him. A slight flush dusted his cheeks, and he avoided your gaze.

“Guess I'm just wonderin' when you're gonna realize that you deserve better.”

You realized that he wasn't messing around, and he was genuinely feeling insecure. He got like this sometimes, and you remedied it the only way that you knew how. You were both still worked up from moments earlier, so you had no qualms about pleasuring him.

Your hand slipped into his boxers again, and you made sure that his eyes were on you. You stroked him gently, but didn't give him exactly what he wanted. He needed to work for that.

“You're fuckin' perfect. Don't let yourself think otherwise.”

Immediately reacting to your touch, his body tensed slightly and his cock twitched against your hand. A small whimper slipped from Daryl's lips, and he leaned his head back.

“Please, baby. Don't- don't tease me.”

“Eyes on me. Let me show you how perfect I think you are.”

You kept slowly working him with your palm and made sure that you weren't helping him reach his peak just yet. You wanted him to understand that you meant every word that came from your mouth.

Daryl gritted his teeth and squirmed beneath your touch. He couldn't stop himself from bucking his hips against your hand in a desperate attempt to find some relief. He knew you wanted an answer from him, so he gave you a shaky response.

“Tell me what you want me to say and I'll do it. I'll do anythin'. Please, baby. Please give me some relief.”

“When I compliment you, you say thank you, baby. No more of this self-deprecatin' bullshit. You're so fuckin' beautiful and I need you to understand that.”

Eager to release some of his tension, he nodded quickly and did what you asked. “Thank you, baby.”

“That's a good boy. You earned this.”

With a pleased grin on your face, you slipped off his boxers and prepared to give him what he needed. You slid down the covers and settled yourself between his legs. You gently moved his hard length and pressed it against his lower abdomen. Focusing on the head, you flattened your tongue and rhythmically licked the underside of his shaft. You repeated this motion a few times before pulling back.

“Fuck, Daryl. You feel so good on my tongue. You want me to go further, ain't you? Use your words.”

“Please- please keep goin', sweetheart. Please.”

Daryl looked down at you with a pleading expression and let out another soft whine. You were going slow on purpose, and he felt like he was going to explode. He needed you.

Satisfied with his begging, you nodded and used a hand to guide him deeper into your mouth. You had taken about three-quarters of his length and left some out, so you could wrap your fingers around the remaining bit. Once you were at a comfortable depth, you started to move your head up and down. Your movements were steady, and you maintained the pace that always drove him crazy.

At this point, Daryl was a mess, and he couldn't hold back the noises escaping from his throat. He kept mewling and his eyes were screwed shut. He would absolutely lose it if he looked down at you, and he wanted this to last longer.

“Please, sweetheart. Don't- don't stop. Feels so fuckin' good.”

You wanted him to fall apart for you, and you weren't above playing dirty. You switched up the pace and pushed him further into your mouth. Your soft moans reverberated against his cock and the sounds that Daryl was making told you that you were about to get exactly what you wanted.

Daryl couldn't take it anymore, and he was on the verge of tears. He knew that he was seconds away from blowing, and there was no stopping it.

“Baby, I'm- I'm gonna come.”

“Go ahead. You've been so good for me.”

You had slipped him out just enough so that you could speak before returning to your ministrations. Within seconds, a familiar warmth spilled into your mouth, and you continued working him through his orgasm. You swallowed and released him from your grip.

Daryl's head was laid back against the pillow, and his chest was heaving. He looked completely spent, and the sight alone was nearly enough to get you off. You wanted this to be about him, though. It took a lot of fucking willpower to keep it together.

Daryl finally caught his breath and gave you a lazy smile. “Thank you, baby.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I was in a car accident yesterday (car took most of the damage, I’m ok other than bruises and sore muscles) and the whole thing has been a whirlwind of insurance and hospital and half asleep crying. I was wondering if I could request James potter x reader for comfort in a situation like that? I’m going through it rn lol hope you’re having a good day :)

Oh I'm sorry lovely! I had a very similar thing happen a little over a year ago, it's sooooo exhausting even when luckily no one is seriously hurt. Thanks for requesting, hope you're having a good/better day too <33

cw: past car accident, no details but talk of general aftermath of police questioning, insurance, etc.

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 799 words

The way James half-jogs up to the automatic doors of the hospital, seeming caught between walking and running, feels like someone is pressing down on the bruise of your chest. You wish you’d called him sooner. 

“James,” you call as he comes in, hating how your voice cuts through the taut quiet of the waiting area. It’s worth it for how his whole self softens when his eyes find you. 

He slows to a fast walk the rest of the way to you, the urgency slowly leaving him—which is appropriate, there is no urgency, everything has happened already—like an engine running out of steam. You stand as he nears, and both of you reach for each other before James hesitates. His hands stop midair, his brow tightening for a moment, before they come tentatively to your elbows.

“Hi,” he says, squeezing. “How bad is it?” 

“For me or the car?” you joke. 

“You.” James is feeling too earnest for joking, it seems. “Well, both of you. But you first.” 

You really thought you’d cry when you saw him. Worried you’d make a whole scene, blubbering and inconsolable, but you don’t seem to have any tears left. It makes sense, you suppose; you’ve cried a lot in the past few hours. First the slow, shaky kind right after getting out of your car, and then a real cry when a police officer had pulled you aside to get your version of events. (It had been embarrassing. She’d been nice about it, though.) Now, you wait for the tears to come, but for all your relief at seeing your boyfriend you feel rather dried up. 

It makes you wish, once again, that you’d called James sooner. You’d wanted to, of course, but you’d been nearly certain you’d be even less capable of holding yourself together if he were there, and there wasn’t much reason for him to be anyways. He was at work and you weren’t terribly hurt, so there was really nothing he could have done while you were talking to the police and the tow company and the paramedics and attempting not to drown in an overwhelm of insurance information. The only thing you really wanted him for was to hold your hand.

“I’m okay,” you say, the necessary preface. “A bit bruised up. My chest got the worst of it.” 

Unconsciously, your hand comes to your sternum as if to demonstrate, gravitating towards the center of the ache. James’ hand follows, seemingly just as thoughtless as it covers your own. He can’t see the bruise, but he makes a low, sad sound anyway. 

His care softens your voice. “They said my neck will probably hurt tomorrow, but it doesn’t yet.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James sounds really, truly heartbroken for you. “And the rest, it hurts a lot?” 

You shrug. What’s a lot? You know you could’ve had worse, much worse; still, you could do without that frightening soreness that comes with each breath. 

“It’s not too bad,” you say. “I could still hug.” 

It’s the question he’s been dying to ask, clearly. James’ arms are around you in a second, ardent but still gentle, palms pressing to the high and low points of your back. It’s a good hug. You melt a little against him. 

James tucks his face into the side of your neck, like he’s trying to get as much contact with you as he can. “I wish you’d called me when it happened.” 

“You were at work.” 

“I’d have left work.” 

“There wasn’t anything you could do. I was fine, I just had to…” a little sigh escapes you, exhaustion creeping in now that he’s here “...talk to people. Insurance and all that.” 

James makes a soft, half-agreeing sound. His thumb strokes the base of your neck. “Still. I could have held your hand.” 

A new ache rises in the back of your throat, coming to join the rest. You wind your arms tighter around James. 

After a few, silent moments, he kisses your neck chastely and loosens his hold. “Ready to go home? Anything else you need?” 

You shake your head. “I’m signed out,” you say, so eager you feel like you could float out the doors. You hope you can entice James to lie in bed with you when you get home. You think you’ll sleep until tomorrow. “Let’s go, please.” 

“Alright, you don’t have to say please, sweetheart.” James curls an arm around your shoulders, pressing a smile into your cheek. “We can go. You need one of those wheelchairs for me to take you out to the car?” 

“Ha ha,” you say drily. “No.” 

“Just checking. Think maybe I ought to ask for one, just in case?”

“James. I will take your car home without you in it.” 

“Alright, lovie, I’m coming.”

[kateschi]

the line we crossed

synopsis: a charged night with your bodyguard leads to emotions bubbling to the surface.

pairing: bodyguard!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the soft glow of the hotel room’s lights reflects off the polished surfaces, casting gentle shadows that make the entire place feel like a private sanctuary.

despite the quiet elegance of the setting, tension hangs thick in the air between you and bakugou.

it’s been a long night—one that’s taken an unexpected turn—and now you’re both standing in the middle of the room, the aftermath of it all settling in.

“you don’t have to be so rough, y’know,” you say, your voice wavering slightly as you pull your wrist free from his grip.

bakugou’s hand is firm around your arm, pulling you through the hallways, his frustration evident in the way he practically drags you after him.

“shut up!” bakugou snaps, his usual intensity dialed up even higher tonight.

“I told you multiple times not to go anywhere without me! and guess what? you go and almost get yourself damn kidnapped!” his voice echoes, cutting through the tension like a knife.

you feel a tight knot of frustration rise in your chest.

“why do you care so much anyway?” you shoot back, folding your arms over your chest, not entirely sure why his anger is making you feel so unsettled.

he isn’t usually this worked up, especially not about your safety—it’s his job, after all.

but there’s something about the way he’s handled the situation tonight, something that feels more personal than professional, and you can't ignore it.

“care?” his voice is thick with irritation. “are you dumb? this is my job!”

you shake your head, the sting of his words settling like a weight in your chest. “that’s not what I mean!” you fire back, your emotions rising.

bakugou is unflinching, his hands resting on his hips as if he’s expecting an explanation. and you, well, you can’t hold it back anymore.

the words spill out in a rush before you can stop yourself.

“a normal bodyguard doesn’t make sure the room is warm enough to my liking. a normal bodyguard doesn’t make sure my food is exactly how i want it every time.

a normal bodyguard doesn’t send flowers to my dressing room without me ever asking for them, and they sure as hell don’t learn every little thing about me—like my favorite songs or how I like my tea!

you’ve been doing all of that, and I don’t know why!” the words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered.

bakugou is silent for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving you.

his brow furrows slightly, and he visibly shifts his stance, almost as if what you’ve said has caught him off guard.

he glances away for a split second, then clicks his tongue, the sound cutting through the quiet room.

“that doesn’t change the fact that you’re at fault,” he mutters under his breath.

the frustration building inside you crests like a wave, and you find yourself unable to keep the tears back anymore.

your chest tightens, and you step back, not sure whether to cry or scream.

“I’m not talking about that anymore, katsuki,” you say, your voice low and shaky.

the sound of his first name leaves your lips before you can even register it, and the room falls into an unexpected stillness.

the shift is almost palpable. bakugou’s gaze snaps to yours, his entire demeanor changing in an instant.

there’s something raw in his eyes, something that hasn’t been there before, and you realize that you’ve done something—something that’s clearly unsettled him.

he opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat. you can see the conflict behind his eyes, the struggle between keeping up his tough exterior and admitting something deeper.

you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you refuse to back down now.

“do you like me?” you ask, slowly.

your pulse quickens as soon as they leave your mouth, but you don’t look away from him. you don’t have time to second-guess.

bakugou’s face flushes a deep shade of red, and for a second, he doesn’t speak, as if the question has caught him entirely off guard.

his eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth again, but his usual sharp retort doesn’t come. instead, he grunts, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“…does that matter?” he grumbles, looking away to avoid your gaze. “I’m gonna do my job perfectly anyway,” he says, his voice rough. “not weak enough to let feelings get in my way.”

you stare at him for a long moment, the truth of what he’s saying sitting between you both. he isn’t the type to mix personal feelings with his job, but you can see it now. you can see the cracks in his armor.

“I’m not worried about that,” you say, your voice quiet but with an underlying certainty.

and before you can stop yourself, you’re moving.

your hand reaches out, your fingertips brushing against his chest as you close the space between you.

you don’t know what comes over you in that moment, but the weight of everything you’ve just said—the tension, the fear, the desire to understand him—pushes you forward.

the kiss is tentative at first, as if neither of you truly knows how to navigate this moment.

but then, like a dam breaking, the kiss deepens, and you can feel the heat from bakugou’s body pressing into you, his hands roughly grabbing onto your shoulders and pulling you even closer.

his lips are demanding, heated, and there’s something undeniably possessive in the way he kisses you, as if he had all of this pent up inside.

he pulls away suddenly, his eyes blazing with something unrestrained.

“I tried holding back,” bakugou says lowly, his voice raw and his breath ragged. his chest is heaving against yours, and his hands tremble slightly as they grip your waist.

before you can react, he pushes you back against the wall, the force of it stealing your breath away.

your heart races, your body caught between fear and desire as his face looms close to yours. his eyes lock with your own, burning and intense.

“you’ve got no one to blame for this but yourself,” he mutters.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[n0rmal-cat]

Siren x reader - hangover brat

[mimimimimi~ mimimimimi~]

Silver groaned as he slowly opened his eyes against the morning light. He covered his face, rubbing his head as he tried to sit up

”Ughhh… fuuuuuuck…”

He grabs his phone and looks in his contacts for readers number. He scrolled through before landing on their number

He took a moment to contemplate before ultimately hitting the ‘call’ button, not really thinking straight.

“Hello?” Reader answered on the other line.

He groaned as he propped himself up with one of his pillows “Hey.” He paused for a moment and groaned again.

”Ugh, you got any idea how much my head hurts?” He asked rubbing his nose bridge.

“Hm I don’t know, how much would a ‘light drinker’ head hurts when they have a hangover?” He could clearly hear the sarcasm in their voice

He rolled his eyes, if they were in the same room together, he would’ve flipped them off at that.

“Stop being a smartass, I just… drank a bit more than usual.” He said with his own annoyance in his voice

“How far are you from my place…?” He asked in a hushed tone.

You let out a laugh “you really expect me to come over to your place on my day off from you?”

He whined once again, “Pleaseeee? My head wants to explode.” He rubbed his eyes in frustration.

”I’m literally dying here, I can’t even lift my head off the pillow to get up and get headache meds…” he glanced at his bathroom door.

Reader sighs “you really are helpless you know that? What the hell did you do before I started working for you?”

He rolled his eyes, and once again muttered “Shut up.”He paused a moment, before answering their question

”I either had my manager do it or just dealt with it. But that’s too much work…”He whined again.

“Pleaseee come? I’ll, like, give you a week off or something. Please?” He bagged.

“A week off…” reader paused “like I don’t have to see you for a week?” They asked again

“Yes, an entire week.” He said, the annoyance in his voice still there

”We can even do two weeks if that’s what’ll get you over here. I just want my headache to go away..” he groaned.

“…I’ll be over in twenty” they hung up the phone.

Silver sighed in relief as they hung up the phone. He flopped back down on the bed, just wanting to bury his pounding head under his pillow.

Twenty minutes felt like an hour for him, where was his saviour, his pretty, smart, funny-

Reader opened his bedroom door looking inside.

“Wow you really do look terrible, even worse then what I pictured on the phone”

Silver groaned, and gave them a glare “Yeah, thank you… I really needed to hear that.” He said in a sarcastic tone.

“Just come get my pills” he pointed to his bathroom

“Whatever you say”

Reader goes to the bathroom and comes back with a bottle “these?”

Silver nodded weakly, “Yeah. Those ones.” He sat up in the bed and held up a hand, “Gimme.”

“You're gonna take them dry?” They asked surprised.

He gave a light glare back, holding his hand out for the bottle, “what else am I supposed to do”He paused, “Wait, grab me a Gatorade too”

“And you expect me to find that…where?” Reader asked

He closed his eyes and groaned once again, rubbing his forehead

”Kitchen. Cupboard right above the fridge…I think.” He explained with a shaky hand gesture.

Reader rolled their eyes but left for the kitchen.

They soon came back with a blue Gatorade “there, you got your headache medicine and a Gatorade, are we done here now?” They hand both to him

He quickly downed the pills and cracked open the Gatorade. taking a few big sips before holding the bottle to his forehead.

”Not so fast, I’m also hungry and can’t get up yet either…” he said acting weakly

“Oh you gotta be- I am not going to cook for you!” They yelled at him.

He whined and gave a small pout, “Pleasee? I literally can’t get up off the bed right now, how am I supposed to get food? And the room service for this place sucks anyway-”

“This is your house!?” They interrupted him

He scoffs “and?”

“Now look if you don’t want me, not only your employer, but also the most handsome siren on earth to starve I suggest you bring me something to eat” he crossed his arms

Reader paused to look down at him “has anyone ever told you that you’re a brat?” They raised a eyebrow

Silver smirked as he looked back at them, “All the time.” he said in a playful tone.

His smirk soon grew into a light smile before he spoke “Now if you’d be a dear and bring me my food please” he said sweetly as he waved them off.

Reader rolled their eyes and headed back to the kitchen, about twenty five minutes later they came back with eggs and toast.

They tried to hand it over to him, “what’s that?

“Ah, your food that I just spent like half an hour on?” They said annoyed.

“That's all? Where’s my chocolate milk?” He pouted.

Reader pushed the food into his lap “eat.the.food”

“Fineeee” he picked up a piece of bread and started to eat.

Reader sat on his bed and waited for him to finish.

“How’s the headache” they asked seemingly actually concerned.

Silver wiped away any crumbs from his mouth and set the plate aside. He leaned back and sighed in relief, running a hand through the messy tangle of his hair

“It’s a bit better, thanks.” He said with a smirk, looking them up and down before adding “You look good in my bed.”

Reader stood up “Alright that’s enough of you” they moved to leave.

“Wait, come back!”

[radio-fmm]

Dear Luffy

Luffy x fem!reader

2k words, sfw

Sanji finds out about your crush on Luffy, would he be able to keep the secret?

Masterlist | Pt. 2

Sanji’s heart dropped to the depths of his stomach as he stood still in the middle of your room, a piece of paper in his hands

Truth was he didn’t wanted to be in this position, as incriminating as it looked

You had lost your glasses that morning. You had been looking everywhere but to no avail, the task becoming quite difficult without them too. Of course Sanji being the gentleman he is, offered to help you look starting with your bedroom

Big mistake

His eyes bore at the letter in his hands that had wrinkled under his unrelenting hold. Luffy’s name spelled at the top with dear attached to it with your handwriting makes his eyes drop out of his skull

You like Luffy?

Of course you do, Sanji then recalls all those times you decided to stay up later to accompany him on his night watches so he ‘wouldn’t fall asleep’ face beaming. How you were always, without a doubt, the first to jump on his crazy ideas and adventures. All of the times he had catch you sneaking around the kitchen late at night, only to then find out that Luffy send you for snacks for him to eat knowing he wasn’t allowed. That look of adoration he’ll catch in your eyes when looking up at your Captain

It was unmistakable

“Sanji! I found them!” - Your voice echoed trough the hallway and the cook curses, without missing any more seconds he hides the letter on its rightful place under your pillow and drops to his knees, hopefully he’ll look as if he was innocently searching under your bed he didn’t

The sound of the doorknob followed by his name makes the blood rush to his ears, heart thrumming in his chest as he prays he can meet your eyes like a normal person, trying not to think about the huge secret he just read about

“Thank god my darling!” He gets up at the speed of light, he’s surprised he didn’t passed out from the harsh movement

Immediately you feel something is wrong

Sanji stands in the middle of your room, eyes darting in every direction, clammy hands fiddling with his cigarette, a nervous smile on his features

“Are you ok San-“

“Fantastic! Why wouldn’t I be?-“ Slowly and desperately, the blonde makes his way out of your room, fumbling every step and almost falling along with your dresser that was tucked on the corner of the place -“Anyway, I gotta go back to the kitchen, dinner won’t cook itself!”

Finally he reaches the handle and disappears, his heart pounding and mouth dry

“Nami was right, he’s kinda weird…”

Shit shit shit, he feelt dirty, invading a ladys privacy like that? Unforgivable. What panicked him the most tho, was not what he knew or how he found out, no no no

It was the fact that he knows he won’t be able to shut his mouth about it. Sanji is a bad liar, specially lying to beautiful ladies, and as it turns, there’s 2 very much noisy ladies aboard The Sunny

Shit

His mind in a reverie, shaky slender fingers scavenging for another cigarette as he made a bee-line to the kitchen

“Mr. cook” Robins calls, echoing trough Sanji’s head, a shiver running down his spine as he looks up to her, head resting on her palm, prying eyes examining his every move

“Oh! Tigress, didn’t see you there” he fakes a smile as better as he can, hoping she wouldn’t ask any questions

“Did y/n find her glasses?” There’s a squint, very small and almost undetectable when she mentions you, waiting for a reaction from the poor blonde cook

He sweats, heavily “Ah yes! She did” a painfully fake giggle scapes his mouth along with the smoke he was keeping in. They both stare at each other, as if waiting for someone to do or say anything… after a while Sanji excuses himself to the kitchen, knowing he’ll be safe once he steps in

Very loud, very incorrect buzzer

His relief is short lived as he enters the kitchen and he catches a glimpse of Nami. She was working on some maps, ponytail and glasses on sketching the day away. Sanji’s blood runs cold

You see, there’s a difference between being questioned by Robin and being questioned by Nami, the latter lacking as certain touch when it comes to her words… and being the queen of noisy

“Nami swan” he drags the last word as in disbelief, she has never in the time they had sailed, worked on her maps in any other place that isn’t her office

The navigator’s head snaps. Completely unaware of the panic petrifying him at the entrance “Oh hey Sanji! The sun hits the kitchen at this hour, better light” she points to her work before getting back to it

Surely he could make it right? Cook for the whole crew without spilling a syllable of what he had read, sounds easy enough

Again, very loud incorrect buzzer

“LUFFY?” Nami’s voice echoes trough the walls, her maps long forgotten as the poor poor cook stood mortified in front of the half cubed vegetables for the soup he was planning to do

Turns out the navigator was far more preceptive than he thought. Sanji was reciting every single detail of what happened within 30 minutes of him just smoking like a psycho and cutting vegetables in terrible cubes

“You can’t tell anyone! She would never forgive me for accidentally snooping around” he begs, resuming his meal prep

“Whatever, that’s not the important part! We have to do something with this” she presses the matter with wide eyes

“No”

“Yes!”

“Darling we-“

“We should what?” Both of the very loud crewmates remain frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape as the Captain himself stands at the door, nostrils open as he takes in the aroma of the soon to be dinner, behind him walks Robin, a sly smile on her lips

Silence, deafening silence

“What were you talking about?” Of course the archeologists pushes the matter, already knowing something was stewing between the two

“Nothing” both culprits answer as they resume their individual tasks that had been forgotten

Robin is no fool, she notices how both steal panicked glances at her Captain who is just completely lost on the dinner cooking up in front of him to notice. How Sanji, the best cook she had ever had the chance to encounter is messing up steps as he fights to make the soup. How Nami kept re drawing the same set of mountains on the map

The tension was no joke

“Captain, did Mr. Shooter showed you the impressive fish he caught this morning?” Luffy brightens at Robins words

“WHAT? I have to see it! Bet it would taste delicious!” In a blink, Luffy has left the kitchen enticing a relieved sigh from the cook that does not go amiss for anyone

“You two are going to tell me what’s going on”

That damn soup was taking way too long, Luffy was bouncing up and down impatiently, stomach loud with hunger. You being the good friend that you are decided to try and get a snack, maybe a little flutter from your eyelashes would get Sanji to budge and let you take something before dinner. The Sunny was rarely quiet, the sound of the oceans waves crashing on the ship a sweet melody that had you skipping happily. As you neared the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks as a set of voices reached your ears, was there a meeting or something? Weird, Sanji doesn’t like a lot of people around when he’s cooking

Curiosity got the cat, you rest your ear flat against the door trying to make out the conversation behind it

“… a letter… it was an accident… she really likes him… he has no idea… you know how Luffy is…”

Oh

A surprised gasp leaves your mouth before you can catch it, hands run to your mouth as you stay put before the door, brain scrambled as it glues the pieces together

Someone found your love letter

The sound of heavy heels approaching the door takes you out of your daze as you scurry away like a cat, running away from the inevitable. You hear Nami call your name but the embarrassment doesn’t allow you to turn as you scape to your room

Closing the door behind you with a loud tud, you run to your bed and find the letter under your silky pillow, your face turning red as you imagine one of your crewmates reading your words. You can hear your heart in your ears before you reap the letter, the sound deafening on your quiet bedroom. How pathetic you felt, like a spec of dust on a shelve with your feelings in your throat

Of course you were a no show for dinner, worried faces on Sanji, Nami and Robin who decided to leave you alone, the damage already done they didn’t wanted to pester you any more than they already had

You were a very shy person when it came to this kind of things, which was funny considering you were usually a very confident and outspoken person, but feelings? they were too much for you, opting by writing them down which you now see as probably a bad habit. You curse for the millionth time staring up at the ceiling in hopes the ocean would leak in and take you away, spitting you on the other side of the world. A couple of nocks on your door stop your train of thought, you don’t answer making the person on the other side impatient, so they opt to just open your door

Luffy stares at you for a moment as so do you, he didn’t know what was happening thank god

“Are you ok? You didn’t came down for dinner” something Luffy didn’t joked about was food that’s for sure

“Yeah I’m… just a little tired”

He grimaces, a rare look on the strawhat boy it makes you wince

“But you need to eat” he retorts

“I’ll eat later Luf, don’t worry”

He stares again, big chocolate eyes looking you up and down, a contemplative hmm vibrating from his chest. You remain frozen, still too embarrassed to even meet his eyes for more than 5 seconds

“You know you can tell me anything right?” Luffy had this amazing ability of always finding the correct words, your face falls and you swear your pulse had accelerated enough to be audible. You sit with his statement, and you feel troubled. Of course he’s right as he always is, it makes you feel stupid to even think about being embarrassed about having feelings, but you steal a glance at his face and the red in your cheeks remind you why are you feeling so mortified

Remind you how dear he is to you

You would hate yourself forever if you were to ever ruin this, this friendship and trust with your Captain. You value that above all else even if it means hiding during meals

“Yes, of course Luf” you smile, a hurtful kind of smile that makes the rubber boy grimace even more

“I can eat with you if you want”

“I said I am tired”

“Yeah but like, if you are up for it later” his genuine concern bends your will, not being honest to him burns like acid

“I’ll let you know if I go to the kitchen”

Finally Luffy gives you the most beautiful bright honest smile, then he just disappears

This whole situation was so stupid, why were you embarrassed about feeling feelings? How dumb. If someone would’ve told you how difficult it would be to deal with love at sea, maybe you would’ve thought a little more about becoming a full time pirate

Of course you went down to eat your dinner later that day, of course Sanji happily warmed it up fro you and of course Luffy joined you

And of course he ate half of it

Pt.2

[miustrz]

TO NOT REGRET

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

PLOT: your best friend since childhood, would it mess up your relationship if you were to confess?

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

You felt so wrong. So messed up.

Everyone had warned you. They said having a guy best friend for so long would only end one way—you’d catch feelings for him. But you never believed it. You were married, after all. To the love of your life. Or so you thought.

He did everything for you. Everything to make you happy. You needed him, and he gave you that, without hesitation. But then one night, everything fell apart.

Your phone rang. It was Junho. In the middle of the night. Your eyes were heavy, but you picked up anyway, trying to keep quiet so you didn’t wake your husband.

“Hello? Junho, why are you calling me this late?” You rubbed your eyes, your voice thick with sleep. But on the other side, there was only quiet—then sniffles.

“Hey... Junho, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you want me to come to you?” Your voice shot up, the panic creeping in. Something wasn’t right.

“I... I need you. I don’t know what to do...” Junho’s voice was shaky, like he was breaking.

Your heart dropped. You could hear the desperation in his words. “Junho, where are you? What’s going on?” You stood up, looking over at your husband, still asleep in bed. For a moment, you just stared. But then you kissed his forehead, instinctively, and walked out of the room.

You grabbed your keys. The worry inside you was growing. “Junho, are you still there? Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m at the beach... at the dock we used to go to.”

You felt your pulse quicken. The dock? Why was he there, at that place? What was going on? But all you could think was, I need to be there for him.

You started the car and drove off into the night, unsure of what you’d find, but knowing you couldn’t leave him alone.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel as you followed the winding road to the beach. It was quiet now—Junho hadn’t said anything since his last words, but that heaviness hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. You tried not to think too much about what you’d find when you got there. All you knew was that you had to be with him. He needed you.

The headlights of your car bounced off the sand as you finally reached the dock. You parked, your breath shallow. There, sitting alone in the dark, was Junho. His shoulders were slumped, his head down. He seemed so small, so fragile. In his hands, he was holding a crumpled paper, staring at it as if it were his only lifeline.

“Junho?” you called softly, stepping out of the car, your voice trembling.

At the sound of your voice, he slowly lifted his head. His eyes were red and puffy, tears still glistening on his lashes, and in that moment, it hit you. This wasn’t just about a late-night breakdown. This was something deeper.

Before you could take another step, Junho looked at you with such raw vulnerability that it made your heart ache. Without thinking, you rushed over to him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight, desperate hug.

“I’m here. I’m right here, Junho,” you whispered, trying to steady your breathing, but felt your own tears beginning to well up.

Junho didn’t pull away. He let you hold him, his body shaking slightly. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, you pulled back slightly, cupping his face with your hands, looking at him with worried eyes.

“What’s going on? What’s making you feel like this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid of what you might hear.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he handed you the paper he had been clutching, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch. You unfolded it, your heart sinking when you saw the familiar handwriting. It was both of yours handwriting. From when you both were younger, back when everything felt so simple.

You read it aloud, your voice thick with emotion, “We’ll stay together forever. We’ll get married. We’ll have two dogs, and one baby girl…” You voice faltered, and the tears you’d been holding back came pouring down your face. “Junho… why are you showing me this?” you choked out, your hands trembling as you held the paper.

Junho swallowed hard, looking down at the sand between them. “Because I... I need you to know. I never stopped feeling this way about you, Y/n. I never stopped loving you.”

Your chest tightened, a wave of confusion and sorrow washing over her. You tried to speak, but the words got caught in your throat.

“I didn’t mean to ruin anything,” Junho continued, his voice quieter now, but still laced with raw honesty. “I’ve watched you be happy with him, and I didn’t want to mess that up. I didn’t want to be the one who told you this and make you question everything. But I can’t keep pretending that this—” He gestured between them, his hand trembling, “—is nothing.”

Everything you thought you knew, everything you had felt in your heart, was suddenly unraveling before you. “Junho… I—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head, trying to process his confession, his words.

Junho looked at you with that same broken expression. “I don’t want to make you choose. I just... I need you to know how I feel. And if that means letting you go, then I’ll let you go. I’ll stay in the background, like I’ve always done.”

But you couldn’t even think about that. You couldn’t think about choosing. How could you, when everything inside you felt torn between loyalty and this pull to Junho that you had been running from for so long?

“Junho, I... I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your heart shattering. “I’m married. I love him. I love my life with him. But you… You’re a part of me, too. I never thought—” your voice cracked, “I never thought you felt this way.”

Junho nodded, his face unreadable. “I never wanted to make things harder for you. But I also couldn’t live in the shadow of what we used to be without telling you.”

You stared out at the water. “What are we supposed to do now?” you murmured, tears slipping down your face, feeling like the weight of everything was too much to bear.

For a long time, Junho didn’t answer. He just sat there, beside you, the two of you facing the endless horizon, lost in the silence between them.

Junho shifted beside you, his eyes still on the sand, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. Neither of you spoke, as if you were both trying to piece together everything that had been said, everything that had been hidden for so long.

And then, without a word, Junho turned to you. He reached out, his fingers brushing gently along your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn't even realized had fallen. His touch felt like fire, soft and burning at the same time. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding as he slowly leaned in.

Before you could process it, Junho’s lips were on yours. It was tender at first, as if testing the waters, as if asking for permission. You froze, your mind screaming at you to pull away, to stop this from happening. But then you felt it—the warmth of him, the closeness, the years of friendship and longing that suddenly rushed forward all at once. Your hands moved on their own, reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss.

Junho’s lips were desperate now, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this feeling. And you, lost in the emotions, lost in everything that was happening—responded just as fervently.

When you both finally broke apart, both breathless, Junho’s eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite describe. “I don’t regret it,” he said softly, his voice hoarse.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You could barely process the words, but in that moment, you didn’t need to. You were overwhelmed, but in the best possible way.

For a split second, you just stared at him, your lips still tingling from the kiss, your mind racing with a thousand questions. And then, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in again, this time more certain. You kissed him back, slowly, but with a deeper hunger, as if the kiss itself was an apology, a confession, and an answer all at once.

When you both pulled away again, you looked at him, your eyes filled with emotion. You didn’t regret it either.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like you were finally being honest with yourself.

[moonlight-canavalia]

Sentimentality

It’s been a while since I’ve written and posted anything so here it is. I swear Sylus has not left my mind since I started playing.

Anyways here’s a little Sylus reassurance when you’re having doubts!

Warning: kisses, light teasing, uh implied cunnilingus that’s about to start at the end

If you prefer AO3 here!

Divider by cafekitsune

There had been a somewhat heavy feeling in your chest that you’ve been ignoring. You’re not sure where that weight is coming from or better yet— that insecurity . Does he really want you for the long run? It seems like it, and though mischievous with his words, he is very forward with his words and action. 

“Sylus, if something happened to me, what would you do?” You ask sprawled out on his bed while he’s getting ready for his meeting. In your mind it sounded like a simple enough question. Honest curiosity laces your tone. His hands suddenly stop, shirt only halfway done. Sylus’s face scrunches up in disgust at the thought of it. Before turning to face you, he makes sure to relax his facial features. “Are you planning to go away, kitten? Any mission worrying you?” disguising his worry in an almost casual tone “want me to tag along? You know I’ll go with you. Just ask, sweetie.”You're still looking up at the ceiling. Arms resting by your side lost in thought. “Hhhmm, just asking. I guess.”Sylus has moved to the foot of the bed, grabbing you by your ankles – pulling you towards him. Surprised by his actions you let out a startled yelp. He’s not sure what’s going on through your head, and he’s not sure how to ask you. While he might be brass, always getting straight to the point there’s something a little off about you today. Your smile isn’t quite reaching your eyes, not as talkative, lost in your own little world. So, he wants to make sure you truly understand and believe his words over all else. 

Dropping your legs at the edge of the bed so he’s able to stand between them he slowly bends down. Caging your body under his to stop you from getting away. His piercing gaze unsettles you for a second, leaving you frozen in place. In a flash his crimson eyes soften, filling with such a warmth that makes you feel like a soothing balm has been poured over the cracks in your heart. “I’d set the entire world on fire and spend the rest of eternity searching for any trace of you in those ashes.”  — He speaks in earnest, deep voice sounding hoarse. Words spoken slowly and low, as if he’s telling the secrets of the universe.  Secrets meant to be kept between you and the four walls of this room. Cupping your cheek with one hand while shifting his body weight on the other to not lose eye contact with you; he adds “Nothing, no one will ever take you away from me. Not the heavens or me getting lost in the nine circles of hell can rip me away from you. I will always search for you and I will always find you.”Lost for words all you manage out is a shaky breath. all as a response. If there’s one thing Sylus is, it is honest. This is something you know, but the profoundness of his words stun you. You feel like your brain is malfunctioning, not being able to come up with words. Eyes wide and watery, you can hear the rush of your blood in your ears. Your heart beats wildly like a trapped bird wanting to escape its enclosure.“I don’t enjoy these questions, sweetie. Especially coming from your pretty mouth” Placing both of his hands on either side of your head, he gently leans in for a kiss, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over your lips. Giving you a quick peck, then you feel his lips brushing the shell of your ear “You’re mine and you’re not going anywhere”.Wrapping your arms around his neck you gently tug him towards you, so more of his body weight is on you. Just wanting to feel him close, enjoying the warmth of his body on yours.  There are many things you’d like to say, numerous emotions and feelings you’d like to voice. But it all gets tied at the back of your throat. With a lack of words to summarize it all a simple “thank you” escapes your trembling lips. 

Those words mean a lot to Sylus, it’s something he rarely hears. And with the way it fell from your mouth so willingly, no ulterior motives behind it only raw emotions dripping in sincerity; now leaves him lost for words. He hopes you know how much he adores you, how much you mean to him, how you’re the best thing to come into his life. How he’ll always defy fate and search for you. When the time comes he’ll sit you down and recount your past together. Not now though. For now he’ll just enjoy having you with him once again . 

Resting his forehead against yours for a few seconds he decides on staying in tonight. The meeting can be rescheduled, anything can wait when it comes to you. “Let’s just stay here tonight, Sweetie” he murmurs.

“I wasn’t aware I was even invited to accompany you in the first place.” you retort. A small chuckle rumbles in his chest. A sound you can’t get enough of. 

“You would think at this point in time you don’t need an invitation. You’re always free to come with me if you desire” Sylus says, like it should be the most obvious thing to you. 

Rolling your eyes playfully at him you quip “Well personally I prefer to be told that you’d like me there.”  

“I always want you with me. Are you not aware of that?” the silver haired male asks, looking quizzically at you. “Oh.” “Yeah, oh, sweetheart.” he taunted, with the corner of his lips upturning in that dangerous smirk of his. “You’d be wise to remember that in the foreseeable future.”Intertwining his fingers with yours, he pins your hand over your head. Softly he squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. A tender reminder, that both of you are here, together right now. In your mind, you know you both are tied together. There’s a pull that can’t be destroyed between the two of you, you can't make sense of it. It feels like you both have known eachother for lifetimes. Little did you know that's exactly what's happening.  Sylus has crossed galaxies, timelines, time and time again to find you. The bending of time or the fact that he's destined to lose you and find you again again is nothing. You are his love, the person his heart belongs to, he'll turn himself into a monster if it means seeing you once again.  Rising from on top of you he kneels on the floor. Once again snaking his big arms around the back of your knees and pulling your core towards his mouth. This is where I belong. Beneath you, you can do anything to me and I’d be grateful, you can command me to do anything and I’ll do it without a second thought. Ask and you shall receive.” He says while kissing your thighs.

[lilousmustaches]

Bloody Nightmare

Warnings: Nightmares; Period; Blood.

Notes: So a fandom a day... how's that sound? I'm feeling creative and reexploring old fandoms (since i finished all Sebastian's fics LOL). I've always wanted to write some Levi but never got it right. Just thought about a little scene and it came to life. Enjoy!

Summary: Levi wakes up from a nightmare to an empty, bloody bed and you nowhere to be seen.

Levi’s dreams were never kind.

How could they be in this lifetime? For a long period he thought all he was destined to know was pain, blood and sorrow. He even avoided sleeping when he could. It was a waste of time and a vulnerability anyways… until you appeared.

He knew what were going to be the consequences of letting someone in. All the constant worry that was going to blind him, and yet, he let it happen. You didn’t give him much of a choice really. It started with desperates nights of lust and seek of comfort and before he could stop it, he found himself worrying a little bit more about of your safety in the battle field, saving food so you could eat properly, letting you pass the night in his quarters after both of you having fucked out the outside world worries.

Now, he couldn’t even remember the last time you didn’t sleep in his bed by his side.

He got used to having nightmares of losing you, knowing so damn well that now this was his biggest fear. But tonight they were brutal. Dangerously graphic. Dangerously vivid.

He was running through a haze of smoke and blood, the sky burning with titan foam. His boots slammed against cobblestones slick with something he didn’t want to identify. All he could hear was your voice - screaming. Not in pain, but in terror. And then he saw you. Limp in his arms, blood soaking through your Survey Corps’ uniform.

Your eyes wide and lifeless. Your mouth still moving, whispering his name one last time before everything went black.

He woke up gasping.

His heart was pounding, lungs desperate for air that refused to come. He sat up abruptly, sweat clinging to his skin. The sheets twisted around his legs like a trap.

“(Y/n)?” Levi murmured, his voice low and rough. His eyes slowly adapting to the dark ambience of his room only illuminated by the moonlight.

He frowned when there was no response.

Quickly his hands started searching the space beside him where you're supposed to be, and his heart, that was starting to calm down from the horrifying dream, increased its beating in an impressive speed.

Your spot was cold. Empty.

Then he saw a smear of dark red on the sheets making his breathing stop.

Blood.

“Shit.” Levi cursed getting out of the bed in seconds. The fear returned like a hammer to his chest. He took a breath, trying to think straight and scanned the room: your boots were still by the door, your jacket forgotten on the chair, the windows closed. No sign of a struggle. And also no sound. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper, he was sure that if something had happened, he would have woken up. Wouldn't he?

He moved fast, bare feet silent on the wooden floor as he stalked toward the bathroom’s door in his room. Levi only noticed a faint light spilled beneath it before barging into it, without knocking.

You faced each other with wide eyes, both confused for different reasons. You were sitting in the bathtub, steam curling around you, hair in a messy bun.

“What the hell happened?” His voice cracked, low and desperate. He stepped into the room without hesitation, kneeling beside the bathtub. Levi cupped your cheeks with his slightly shaky hands. “Are you hurt?”

“What?” You whispered, still confused about his sudden interruption of your bath. “What- Levi, no. I’m fine”

His eyebrows frowned slightly one more time and he started to scan your body to find answers. Any sight of injuries that could have caused the stain. He could see your naked body through the water tinged faintly pink but what really got his attention were your arms hugging your lower belly. Oh.

“You got your period.” Levi sighed when it finally clicked in his head. His shoulders went down partly relieved, partly annoyed with himself for not getting it sooner.

“I woke up with really bad cramps.” You explained almost timidly starting to understand your boyfriend’s reaction. “I swear I tried to clean up the mess I made, but I couldn't change the sheets while you were sleeping…”

“Tch.” He exhaled slowly, finally feeling his heartbeat go back to normal. Levi gave you a light kiss on the forehead, exhausted, before getting up and exiting the bathroom, giving you privacy.

You let out a soft sigh, leaning back into the bathtub as you let your heart rate settle. At first, you thought he might be annoyed with you but giving it a second though - you knew there was more to that.

After some last minutes enjoying the heat of the water, you gathered courage to step out, wrapping yourself in a towel. It was a surprise when you found the bedroom already stripped: bloodied sheets gone, mattress cleaned. Fresh linen already halfway done.

“You didn’t had to do that” You exclaimed softly and he snorted, like he was telling you to shut up. He finished tucking the corners with military precision (Or maybe it was just Levi’s methodical personality) and indicated you the clean clothes he had separated, folded in the chair. Panties, black sweatpants and one grey oversized long sleeved shirt of his. 

“Be right back.” He mumbled quietly passing through you, opening the front door of his bedroom that leaded to his office. You slowly got dressed still feeling some sharps pains in your stomach. Although it wasn’t like this subject was common among your girlfriends, through the years you eventually learned that you felt your period harder than the most. But honestly, considering all you went through in the daily Survey Corps’ routine, you always tried to not make this a big deal. You never even dared to say you were suffering from this little detail. 

Levi returned just when you sat on the bed, your back against the headboard, making yourself comfortable under the blanket. You noticed a steaming mug in his hand.

“Ginger tea.” He said simply handing you the mug. “Good for cramps.”

“How the fuck do you-“ You stopped mid phrase realizing that this was Levi. Of course he would know what to do. Of course he would know how to take care of you. “Thank you, darling.” 

The pet name, hardly never used in your relationship, slipped your lips before you could stop yourself. It felt appropriate to the feeling that warmed your chest when saw him being so careful towards you, a soft side of him that was reserved only for you. 

“Sure.” He nodded sleepy, not seeming to mind the use of the pet name. Levi sat down besides you, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. He put his hand in your tight, starting to draw circles there with his thumb while you stayed quiet for some minutes, just appreciating the tea and the caress. 

“You had a nightmare,” You said gently, finally evoking the subject.  “You thought I was bleeding out.” 

You tried continuing when he stayed quiet and you saw his jaw tightened. 

“You were. In my dream. I couldn’t stop it. You were just… gone.” Levi admitted finally opening his eyes to stare at you. There were so much fragility in his grey eyes, that made your heart ache. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” You apologized letting the mug, now empty, in the headboard and moving your hand to squeeze his. You knew your reaction would be the same or worse if it was you that had woken up to an empty bloody bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked down at your joined hands for a moment, before saying anything. 

“Don’t ever try to handle it alone again. Not if you’re in pain. Not if something’s wrong. I don’t care if it’s blood or a damn papercut. Wake me up.” Levi said with his usually hard unbothered expression, and you couldn’t stop from noticing the drops of authority tone he used. Captain’s voice. 

“I didn’t want to be a burden.” You admitted and his expression softened.

“You’re not. You never are.” 

“It happens every month, it’s not a big deal.” You brushed it off although his words were still lingering in your head. 

“No big deal but bleeds to the point of staining half of the bed and needing a hot bath to ease the pain.” He scoffs almost with a humorless laugh. “Inside of here you don’t need to hide these kind of things, (Y/N). Not from me.”

The honestly and urgency in his voice makes you stop. This man really did find his owns ways of saying ‘I love you’ to you everyday. You immediately put your hand in the back of his neck pulling him to a long chaste kiss, one that he happily accepted. 

“Brat.” He whisper with his lips still glued to yours, making you chuckle. “C’m here, let’s try to sleep, I’m tired.” 

He grumbled adjusting his position to lay in the bed, pulling you by your waist, connecting your back to his chest.

“I’m here.” You whispered reassuring him, pulling his hand to your lips, leaving a sightly kiss there. 

He squeezed carefully his hand in your belly, leaving it there in hope that his warm would make you feel a little better. 

His quiet way of saying he was there too.  

[leighsartworks216]

Skeletons In The Closet

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Prev Chapter - Next Chapter

I really need to make a reminder to update this on Thursdays. My fault for deciding to post it on a Thursday and keep up a weekly schedule I guess

Warnings: death, manhandling

Word Count: 1,066

Main Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You wander the winding tunnels of Jewel’s home, tracing a hand along the wall to keep yourself oriented as you listen out for him. You haven’t noticed his presence around all day. He’s probably not here right now. Still, you don’t risk calling out for him, especially when you’ve been provided the perfect opportunity to snoop.

The chill doesn’t seep in so deeply anymore. With new clothes and shoes (new to you, anyway), your feet are protected and you are quite comfortable. Sleeping on the hard rock isn’t doing you any favors, nor the odd smell clinging to the clothes, but, one thing at a time.

Your hand slips from rock to cloth. Scratchy, woven threads form a tapestry, lined on the edges with soft tassels. You can feel a hole hidden behind it. You push it aside and duck under, tassels gently brushing your head as you step into the strange room.

The air is immediately heavier. It’s thick with a strong, rancid odor that has you covering your nose right away. You can’t place it at all.

You step carefully forward, keeping your foot low to the floor and feeling for anything solid that you could step on or fall over. It’s clear for the first few feet. The further in you go, the stronger the smell is.

Something clunks as you knock it with your foot. You stop abruptly and slowly crouch down to feel it. It’s long and dry, thin, but solid, with tough balls at the ends. Your brows pinch together as you try to figure out what it is. You reach out and find another. Several more - all of different sizes. Amongst them is something rounded. You lift it in both hands, turning it over and over, until you find something jagged along one of its surfaces.

You hold it by either side of the uneven surface. The ridges of it seem to be symmetrical, digging into your wrapped palms in the same way. You trail your thumbs along it, trying to make any sense of this object. It’s just as dry as the other ones, but why is it shaped like this? It feels like it has two holes mirroring each other, but the holes don’t go all the way through. The divots inside are smooth. Another hole rests between them, but it is jagged and uneven. A little ways further down, ridges, also uneven, with some sharp and some flat, lining the item.

You slowly trace back up it. Clarity suddenly hits you.

You cry out and toss it down, falling backward in shock. It clatters hollowly amongst a pile of bones. Human bones.

“Now what are you doing all the way down here?” The deep voice cuts into your fear. It trails a sharp claw down your spine. Twists the terror languidly around a finger, relishing in the way you cower away from him and into the pile of bones. You flinch away from touching them.

Heavy footfalls announce his approach. They’re not fast. They’re casual, taking their time, as a predator to a cornered prey.

“Why- Why do you have these?” The question comes out shaky and half-formed, dazed as you try to figure out what he’ll do next. “Did you…?”

He scoffs. “Use your words, pet.”

The words taste bitter on your tongue. “Did you kill these people…?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in his answer. No remorse, no doubts. Your blood runs cold. “Does that bother you?”

“Why did you kill them? You can’t just kill people!”

“They wanted to kill me first. How about now? Am I justified?” A sharp hand grabs you by the collar of your clothes, pulling you roughly to your feet and pushing you ahead of him. It’s not a human hand. It’s not soft where it touches you.

You struggle against his hold, but it’s a futile endeavor. The tapestry scratches at your face as you’re forced through it. Your feet struggle to keep up. “Hng- Let me go! Why did they want to kill you?! What are you?!”

The stairs are the most unforgiving. You can’t take each step fast enough for him. As such, your feet get beaten up on each ledge, scraped on the rough stone anywhere your feet aren’t covered. You realize with a sinking gut that the clothes you wear now are most definitely from the bodies in that room.

You’re thrown to the floor suddenly, on top of a thin cloth. You quickly recognize it as the scrap of fabric you sleep on each night you’ve been here so far.

“I’m a fiend,” he answers lowly, dangerously, daring you to be afraid because it’s what he wants. He wants you to fear that word, and all the weight behind it.

It’s not a word one hears used lightly back in the city. Devils, demons, dragons, fiends - all names for the beasts that are said to one day destroy the world. It’s a prophecy as old as the city, perhaps older. As a child, you were warned to stay vigilant for the coming of the end, of doomsday. If you ever heard any news relating to its arrival, you were told to report it immediately.

The one time you do, you’re forced to run for your life…

And here he is - the bringer of the End. Casting his shadow over your cowering body. Hiding literal skeletons in his closet. Was his prophecy trying to tell you about the end of Philos, too?

He leaves you in your silence. You feel his shadow shift, hear his boots walk away. All you have left is the thin sheet and your thoughts to keep you company.

“Am I justified?” That phrase rings in your ear as you huddle into the corner, doing your damndest to ignore the feeling of something creeping up behind you. The innate fear of being attacked from behind. Your ears strain in the silence to listen out for him.

“Am I justified?” He killed all of those people. Probably more. Is the murder of so many people justified?

“They wanted to kill me first.” Can you trust him at his word? He’s a fiend - how can you trust a fiend not to lie? Though, you can’t recall him lying to you before. So much as you can tell, anyway.

“They wanted to kill me first. How about now? Am I justified?”

Is he…?

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy

[pit-and-the-pen]

Hold Onto Me

Azriel x reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), Spanking, P in V sex, Oral (m recieving) kinda switch Az, kinda switch reader, Safe words, praise, breeding kink.

WC: 4K

You had been squirming in anticipation all day. It had been a small mistake, just a simple slip of your tongue. Cassian and you were in one of your usual arguments over something silly. Nothing serious just enough to make your heart race a little with anger. Azriel had stepped in, trying to calm down the both of you as it was slowly shifting to something more intense. 

“Shut up.” Flew out of your mouth before you could catch it. You gasped when you processed the words you had spoken to your mate. Cassian tried to chime in but you had lost all your fire. Azriel had a dangerous smirk on his face as he walked up to you, he grabbed your chin in his hand and tilted it up slightly. 

“Wanna repeat that, doll?” To anyone else it would seem teasing, just a simple call out for being snappy with your mate. But that little glint behind his eyes let you know that you were in for it later. Your thighs pressed together slightly as you tried desperately to hide how turned on you were getting by those simple words. You licked your lips and cleared your throat. 

“I’m sorry, Az. I didn’t mean-”

“I know you didn’t, it’s okay.” He gave you a quick peck on the forehead before removing his hand from your face. You knew better. Knew the only reason you weren’t over his knee right now is because Cas was in the room. And you tried not to think about the way Azriel’s eyes immediately hardened when Cas mumbled something about getting something to eat. 

He was on you the moment the other male left the room. Mouth dangerously close to your ear. 

“Once I get back from training, I want you naked on the bed. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?” His voice dripped with a dominance that had your thighs clenching again. You nodded, which only earned you a sharp bite to your earlobe. You whined pathetically at the action. 

“Words.”

“Yes, yes I can do that.” Your voice was shaky. The urge to jump his bones right then and there was very strong all of a sudden. You turned in his hold and pulled his lips to yours. He let out a deep laugh against your lips. He indulged you for a few seconds before he tapped your face delicately to get you to pull away. You whined again which only earned you a poke to your nose. 

“Don’t pout. Be good for the rest of the day and maybe I’ll go easy.” He was lying and you knew it. But you agreed anyway. He gave you one more quick kiss before he walked after Cassian for their afternoon training session. 

You were twitching for the rest of the day, trying to find anything to distract yourself from the promise Azriel had made earlier. The whole house had been tidied up. The sheets replaced on your bed, your closet reorganized. Anything to distract you from the downright filthy thoughts of your mate. You knew your want must be flowing strong down the bond because you received calming strokes throughout the day. But it did nothing to change the pit in your stomach. 

Azriel could have winnowed right into your shared bedroom but you heard the front door open and close. You remembered his earlier words and scrambled to the edge of the bed. Throwing your clothes into some random corner of the room. You sat patiently as you heard intentionally heavy footsteps down the hall. You felt your pulse quicken as they got closer and closer to the door. This was part of the game, you knew that Azriel could be completely silent if he so desired. But he knew how much you loved the anticipation, the way you knew what was coming and could do nothing to stop it. It just added to the fun of it for you. 

He slowly opened the door, granting you a few extra seconds if you were still getting ready. He gave you a wide smile as he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed. Just liked he asked. He stalked over to you, eyes not leaving yours. 

“Good girl. Thank you for listening.” You wanted to purr at the praise. His hand combed gently through your hair and you leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the weight on your head. He made a content noise when you looked back up at him before he gave you a slight frown. “Now, can you explain what you did wrong earlier?” You nodded

“I told you to shut up.”

“And why was that bad?”

“Because I shouldn’t be mean to you. Just because I’m mad at Cassian doesn’t give me the right to snap at you.”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t do it to you.” He pondered for a second, looking above you.

“I think 15 spanks should be enough, don't you think?” It wasn’t really a question. Fifteen was nothing compared to what would happen if you really got into trouble. 

“Yes sir.” You said, voice crisp and clear. You were shifting as you thought about it. He smiled and pulled on your hands for you to stand up in front of him. His hands dragged up and down your sides, so lightly it almost tickled. You held back the laugh that built and tried to keep a straight face. A yelp left you as he pulled you down across his lap in one fluid motion. You instantly relaxed against him as he ran a hand down the back of your thigh. 

“Do you want to count this time?” He asked, giving you the choice because he knew sometimes you just wanted to soak up the feeling. You nodded and he gave you a little pinch where your thigh met your ass. Your foot kicked up behind you and you didn’t wait for him to speak before you spoke your yes out loud. He hummed before you felt his hand leave your skin. Your whole body tensed in anticipation. 

You nearly jumped off his lap as his hand came down to return to his previous actions, not at all the harsh spank you had been waiting for. He laughed lightly before you felt his touch leave again. This time you heard his hand cut through the air, legs kicking out behind you as you let out a mix between a yelp and a moan. He paused waiting for the count. He always gave you a few moments with the first couple to find your rhythm. 

“One.” You sigh. His hand rubs at the tingling skin. You sunk further down into his lap, shoulders relaxing even more. 

His hand met your ass time and time again.Your hands desperately clutching at the blanket underneath you. Trying to stifle the lewd screams that were being ripped from your mouth.You reached your hands back to grab onto Azriel, anything to help keep you grounded. Tears were streaming down your face as the pain tingled through your entire body. He grabbed your hand, pinning it to the center of your back, tracing light circles on your palm that contrasted the echoing smacks he drew out from his other hand. You shifted your hips, grinding on his lap. The hand holding your wrist went to tangle in your hair, pulling you head back to meet his eyes. He took one look at your tear stained cheeks and something shifted in his eyes. you was a look you haven't seen from him, something that made me want to wrap your arms around him. And before you could even question the look, you heard that one word tumble from his mouth. Siphon. He released your hair and you rolled off of his lap. He couldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Az?” you asked, standing in front of him. it was hard to breathe, suddenly so worried about you mate. He shook his head lightly, like he was shaking an image out of his head. 

“I can’t, doll. I…those tears.” He was stammering, hands shaking slightly. you gently stuck out your hand and stuck your finger under his chin, begging him to look at you. 

“Do you want me to get dressed, then we can talk about it?” you reached for the blanket that was on the edge of the bed but he caught your wrist. 

“Still want you. Just…”

“Just not rough?” He nodded his head. 

“If that’s okay. Gods I know you’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Sh. It’s more than okay. It’s no fun if you’re uncomfortable. This always goes both ways baby.”  He let out a heavy breath, his shoulders relaxing like he had been scared of your reaction. you let your hand drift up from his chin to his hair, lightly combing the long strands between your fingers. 

“Can I touch you?” your voice is soft. He nods and you climb back onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. His thumbs come up to trace the tear marks on your cheeks. Seeing his eyes go far away,

“Are you sure? We can just cuddle.” You ask one more time.

“No. I just.” He pauses, chewing on the words. “Just don’t want to be in charge. I just want to love you” 

you giggle at his shy tone. “Of course baby.” you nuzzle your nose against his cheek, peppering small kisses in its wake. you place them along his jaw, his forehead and cheeks. Until you reach his mouth. The kiss starts off sweet, still testing the waters to make sure he really is okay with this. But when he wraps his hands around the fat of your hips, pulling you closer to him. You trace your tongue on the outside of his lips. He doesn’t hesitate to part his mouth for you. He meets you breath for breath and you hear a groan rumble deep in his chest as you move your hips in time with the kiss. You put a little more pressure in the motion and his hands only grip your hips harder. Fingers sinking into the flesh, nails biting ever so slightly. 

“Please.” He whimpers out between kisses. You nip his bottom lip and then pull your face away from his. He is still clothed and it makes you blush slightly to realize that you're fully undressed in his lap. 

“Can you take this off?” you ask, fingers toying with the edge of his shirt. He doesn’t say anything, just takes the fabric in his own hands and pulls it over his head. You're greeted with the sight of his gloriously toned body. You shuffle back on his lap far enough to dip your head down to kiss along his tanned skin. You let your tongue follow your lips, licking more than kissing. He moans as you run your tongue along the top of his waistband. His hips shift as he pulls at the ties of his pants, helping him tug them down his legs and they join the rest of our clothes on the bedroom floor. 

You can’t help the hand that reaches out to brush across his angry red tip. A bead of pre-cum already dripping down. He hisses at the contact and arches his hips up to meet your hand. you don’t get to finish asking if he’s okay before he groans out his responding yes. you smile coyly at him as you sink down to your knees. He shuffles to the edge of the bed and spreads his legs, caging your shoulders in between them. 

“Gentle baby. Please.” He pleads as you continue your soft kisses up and down his shaft. Already feeling drunk on the taste of him. Your name spews off his lips as you finally take him into your mouth, resisting the urge to take him all the way down in the first move. Your eyes screw closed at the feeling of him in your mouth. He’s heavy against your tongue, but the skin is smooth. You can feel every vein. You speed up without meaning to, getting lost in the taste of him. Your own moans mixing with his as you take him deeper and deeper. Building up to your nose brushing against his stomach. A chain of swears leaves his mouth as you swallow around him. His hand twists into your hair and you realize he’s pulling you off of him. You release him with a pop, a string of spit following your lips as you look up at him. 

He pulls you off of your knees, pulling you back flush to his chest. His hands start tracing patterns on your skin as he trails his fingers up your thighs, legs wrapped around mine to keep them spread for him. you throw your head back when he runs two fingers up you slit, once, twice, collecting your wetness on them. He finally reaches the button on the top and rubs lazy, wide circles. your hips wreath against his slow strokes, mouth thrown open in a silent plea. As if sensing your thoughts, he sinks his fingers in oh so slowly. Groaning at the way your walls clench around his fingers.

“Such a good girl. Taking my fingers so well.” His words have moans tumbling out from your mouth, rising in pitch when he hits that special spot that he finds with such ease. you try to lift your hips but his legs keep me pinned to the couch. He doesn’t rush his movements, relashing in the sweet mewls leaving your lips. 

“More. Gods, faster. Please” you babble and you feel the answering chuckle vibrate through you. 

“Bear with me, pretty girl.” He says, keeping the same pace. His name is the only word you can get out of your mouth. Filling the room over and over again with the slick sound of his fingers pushing in and out of you. You can feel that sweet knot forming in your stomach, hands clutching to his arms trying to keep yourself grounded as your release races towards you. You use the grip on his hands to stop his movements. You whine slightly at the loss of contact, hips desperately trying to search for some friction but find the strength to pull his hand away from your aching cunt.

“I wanna come with you inside me.” You pant into his neck, eyes closed as you catch your breath. You’ve gone from wanting to needing your mate. You need to be close to him, see his face and feel him inside of you. “Can you do that for me baby?” Your words have him nodding against your back. 

“How do you want me?” He asks immediately. 

“On your back.” And he obliques, leaning back on his elbows as you straddle him. You shuffle your hips into place and throw your head back with his hard length nudges against your sensitive clit. You had wanted to tease him but that one motion had your hand reaching down to grasp him in your hands, lining him up with your aching hole. You gasp as you start to sink down, letting gravity do the work. His eyes are squeezed tight but you’re having none of it. You pause and use your hands to tap him lightly under his eyes. 

“Let me see those eyes sweetheart.” You coo at him. His eyes flutter open and he gives you a lazy smile that makes your heart flutter. That’s all it takes for you to sink all the way down onto him, hips sitting flush against his. Both of you groan loudly as you sit and adjust to the way his tip is sitting against your cervix. 

“Move. Please, princess.” He cries out, hips lifting slightly in attempts to jostle you. 

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely.” You lean down to capture his lips as you slowly rise off of him, almost sliding all the way off before sinking all the way back down. You try to keep your movements slow and steady. Soaking in the sweet noises that were flowing out of Azriel’s mouth like water through a stream. Both of your lips brushing against the other but not truly kissing. Your movements start speeding up and he grabs your hips in his hands. 

“Slow. I want to savor this.” You nod, brain not working enough to speak. You really do try to follow his words but he feels so good that you can’t help the way your hips speed up again. YOu hear him groan and before you can process it, he’s flipping you onto your back. Your hair draped over the edge of  the bed, almost touching the ground. HE pauses inside of you, letting your eyes and body adjust to the new position. 

“I told you to slow down, pretty girl.” He whispers into your ear, causing goosebumps to raise all over your body. Voice husky and strained. 

“But it feels so good, Azzy. I just want to make my big, strong mate feel good.” 

“Is that right?” You nod your response. 

“What else do you think about me?” He asks, tone slightly shifting to the near taunting voice. But you can hear the need behind the question. The words he needs you to say to comfort him. 

“That you’re the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen.” You whimper when he pulls his hips away from you, ever so slowly. YOu go to wrap your legs around his waist but his shadows keep them pinned in place. He tilts his head, willing you to continue. “Gods. How clever you are. YOu always know exactly what to say and how to make everyone listen to you.” He pushes back into you and you cry out, words dying on your tongue. 

“Keep talking.” He pleads into your shoulder, head dipping down. 

“I’m so lucky to have you as a best friend, as my husband, as my mate. Everyday I think that there isn’t a luckier person in all of Prythian because I get to wake up next to you… Az. gods please.” He gives you a particularly hard thrust that has you all but screaming. His teeth nip at the skin on your neck.

“Good job sweetheart.” He praises you and you heat from head to toe under his words. Glowing with his approval. He starts to move then. Not the frantic pace that your body is craving but in a way that you can feel every ounce of love he has for you in those movements. You feel it in the way his hazel eyes look down at you, wide and searching for your own to meet his. And you return everything you have back to him. You hold his gaze, sending all your love and pride down the bond. It’s like time has slowed around you, unable to focus on anything but the way he feels inside you. Ears deaf to even your own cries of pleasure. You can only soak in the way your name falls from his tongue, holding onto it like the precious gift it is. Overwhelmed with the pure love you feel for your mate, you don’t even notice the rising wave of your orgasm until it’s rushing white hot through you. Your back arches into him, pushing the two of you even closer. He mumbles words into your shoulder.

“I love you so much. I’ve never been this happy. Gods. You’re so perfect.” All spill out of his lips and into the sticky skin of your shoulder. Your nails are running up and down his back, breath heaving through your lungs and you pant underneath him. His hips are still moving at that same gentle pace. The slight stutter in his movements let you know he’s close. You pull his head up from your shoulder and lock eyes with him. At the same time as you lock your legs around his waist. He groans low in the back of his throat and grabs your thighs in his hands. He taps twice, urging you to release your hold. So you do, unable to do anything but whimper as he pushes your knees to your chest, feet resting on his shoulder. Seconds ago, you would have sworn it was impossible for him to get any deeper but he somehow was reaching new spots that had filthy moans and curses slipping from your lips. Your chest jiggled with each thrust of his hips, unable to meet his thrusts with the new position, you just had to take the pleasure he was giving you. You heard his answering groan when a particularly hard thrust had you clenching around his cock. 

“Gonna fill up my pretty mate. Do you want that? To be filled with my babies.” You response was nothing but garbled sounds. A mix of yes, and please, and a broken version of his name. But it was enough for him to pull you close to him as he emptied himself inside of you. Giving you a few deep, slow thrusts, before he went to pull out. You stopped him, hands pressing onto the small of his back.

“Please, just need to keep feeling you.” You felt how heavy your eyes were, already threatening to close. But you didn’t want to lose the feeling of your mate just yet. He just grunts, staying fully sheathed inside of you. 

“Can we move up, sweetheart?” He asks between his slow kisses he’s leaving all over your face. You hum your response and squeal as he shimmies up to the headboard, back leaning against the wood. He doesn’t pull out, just letting you sit on his lap still buried in between your legs. YOu relish the feeling every inch of your mate pressed against you and inside of you. For the second time tonight you feel tears well up in your eyes and you try to hide the sniffle that leaves you as your emotions get too strong. Your head is pushed up against his chest and his arms wrap around you, pulling you tighter to his body. 

“Why are you crying, my pretty girl?” 

“Good tears.” You sniffle, pulling away from his chest to look at him. He gives you a dopy smile and peppers soft kisses all along your face. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too. My sweet, smart, gorgeous mate.” He whispers against your skin. He pulls you off of his lap and you shutter at the feeling of his seed dripping out of you and onto your thigh. You sigh as he pulls you back down across his lap and goes to grab the menthol lotion he keeps by the bed. You feel your muscles start to relax under his firm motions. He gives you a little tap on your ass to let you know he’s done. 

“Your turn.” You smile up at him and he just looks at you confused. You motion for him to flip over and he does.

“You safe worded.” You said like it was obvious. 

“Sweetheart you dont-”

“Yes I do. I’m proud of you for letting me know you were uncomfortable so let me show you how much I am. Let me take care of you.” You dip your finger into the tub of lotion as you speak and he lets out a sigh as your hands go into the dip between his wings. They flare out slightly before dropping ever so slightly. You work circles into his skin, trying to get some of the knots out. He’s groaning underneath your touch and it has you giggling. 

“Keep that up mister and you’re going to get a second round.” You say, not pausing the motion of your hands. He lets out an exaggerated moan that pulls another laugh from you. “Brat.” You giggle and he shifts his hips underneath you. You move your hands to his shoulders and before you know it, you're on your back with him over you. 

“Now, what was this about a second round?” He asks and you only respond by pulling his lips down to meet yours.

Tags: @ninthcircleofprythian @daycourtofficial @milswrites @writingcroissant @readychilledwine @nocasdatsgay @sarawritestories

[janasrdhr]

Sweet Dreams - Bakugou Katsuki

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Warning(s): Mild Explicit Language, Violence, Major Character Death, Angst

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You both lay broken amidst the ruins of the battlefield, the sky above smeared in smoke and crimson. Shigaraki and his legion held the upper hand now — chaos had chosen its side.

Your body trembled with exhaustion, a deep stab wound tearing through your abdomen, warmth pooling beneath you in steady betrayal. Beside you, he lay motionless, a gaping hole carved into his chest — where a heart should beat, there was only silence and slow, suffocating blood. It spilled from his lips with every fading breath.

You’d spent so long despising each other, built from hatred and scorn. And yet… in that fragile, crumbling moment, something unspoken bound you together — not as enemies, not as strangers, but as two souls slipping from the same edge.

With the last flicker of strength, he turned his head to you, pain etched into every twitch of muscle. His eyes, once sharp with fury, were dull now… distant.

“‘m…”

He choked, the word caught in the blood rising from his throat. He coughed violently — it sounded final.

“Sorry…”

“N-No… don’t.”

Your voice is a shaky whisper, barely holding together as the weight of everything crashes down.

“We did the b-best we could…”

You wheeze, breath catching on every word. The adrenaline that kept you going — that fragile illusion of strength — fades fast. And now the pain comes. Real and unforgiving. It sinks deep, like ice threading through your veins. You can feel it all now.

Every heartbeat hurts. Every breath feels like it’s being stolen.

And yet, you still speak… because if you don’t, the silence might just kill you first.

He tries to give you a reassuring smile — or something close to it — but it barely forms. The pain is written all over his face, and there's so much blood. Too much.

“Hey,” he breathes out, voice rough and faint, like it’s hanging by a thread.

His hand reaches for you — trembling, weak — and somehow, it still finds yours. His fingers are cold. Shaky. But they curl around yours anyway, like it matters. Like it’s enough.

Another cough escapes him, wetter this time. You feel it before you hear it. He doesn’t wipe the blood from his mouth. He just looks up at the sky, like maybe if he stares long enough, he’ll forget how close the end is.

And yet, even now… he’s trying to comfort you.

You blink hard, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill — but they’re stubborn, just like you. Just like him. The world around you is spinning, distant, but this — his hand in yours — is the only thing keeping you grounded.

With what little strength you have left, you squeeze his hand. It’s barely a movement, but it’s everything. A signal. I’m still here.

The pain claws at you instantly, sharp and unbearable. It radiates from your wound like fire, and you wince, breath hitching in your throat. It hurts more than it ever has — but you don’t let go.

You won't. Not yet.

Not while he's still breathing.

He lets out a low groan, the kind that barely escapes his throat. You feel the tremor through his hand as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenched from the pain. Another breath leaves him — shaky, broken — like it took everything just to let it out.

“I… I just gotta say something,” he murmurs, voice almost swallowed by the stillness around you.

Slowly, painfully, he opens his eyes again. They find you — heavy with something unsaid, something fragile. And in that look, you see it: the fear, the regret, the last traces of a war he never wanted to end like this.

His hand trembles again, but he doesn’t pull away.

He’s holding on. Just long enough to say it.

“S-Stop…” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. “Save… save it for later.”

It’s a lie — and you both know it. But you say it anyway, because it’s the only thing you have left.

“We can stay up all night, just… just talking,” you breathe out, desperate, trembling. “We won’t s-stop. W-We’ll be okay. Please…”

The words fall apart in your throat, slipping out in broken fragments. You’re not even sure he can hear you anymore, but you say them like they might change something. Like they might rewrite this ending.

You shift your aching body, biting back a sob as the pain screams in protest. Slowly, carefully, you rest your head on his arm — what’s left of it — clinging to the warmth that’s already fading.

Silent tears carve paths down your face, mixing with the blood and dirt. You don’t wipe them away.

You just stay there, next to him, begging time to stop.

He lets out a soft, breathless chuckle — not because anything is funny, but because the pain makes everything feel unreal. His breath hitches again, shaky and strained.

“I…” he starts, voice barely there.

He tries to clear his throat, to steady himself, but the effort backfires. He coughs hard, blood bubbling up and spilling down his chin. It’s too much. He doesn’t even try to wipe it away.

Slowly, he turns his head to face you again. His eyes meet yours, glassy but sharp with certainty.

“No,” he says, barely louder than a whisper. “I’m not waiting.”

You feel your chest tighten.

“I know I won’t make it through the night.”

He winces, jaw tensing as another wave of pain cuts through him. You see it — how close the end is. How much it’s costing him just to keep his eyes open. Just to speak.

“I… just want you to know something.”

His voice falters again. But this time, not from pain — from the weight of what he’s about to say.

“S-Shut up!” you cry out, the words breaking as they leave you. “Shut-… shut up. Please just—… shut up.”

Your voice cracks, strangled by grief. You don’t even know who you’re begging — him, yourself, the universe — but you say it like if you say it hard enough, this will all stop.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block it out, all of it — his voice, his blood, the way the truth clings to every word he speaks.

But it’s no use.

Another sob rips through you, your body jolting from the force of it. The pain explodes in your side again, sharper than before, but it doesn’t matter. You don’t care.

You’re breaking. And you can’t stop it.

He’s slipping away. And you can’t stop that either.

He winces again, his whole body tensing, but he doesn’t let it stop him. Doesn’t even let it show for long. With all the strength he has left, he reaches up — hand trembling, bloodied — and brushes his fingers against your cheek, wiping away a few of your tears.

They’re still falling. He knows they will keep falling. But he does it anyway.

“Shh… look at me,” he whispers, voice softer now — not because of weakness, but because he’s trying to be gentle.

Because in this moment, he doesn’t want you to remember the pain, or the blood, or the chaos still raging around you. Just this. Just him.

His thumb lingers just under your eye, and though his touch is faint, it’s steady enough to hold onto.

Your hand trembles as you lift it, barely steady enough to move, but you manage. Slowly, you place it over his — his blood-warmed fingers resting on your tear-streaked cheek.

You don’t speak. You can’t. Your throat is too tight, choked with pain and denial.

But your eyes flutter open, just like he asked. Just enough to meet his.

He’s still there. Barely. But he’s still there.

And even as everything inside you screams that this isn’t fair, that it isn’t supposed to end like this — you look at him. Because he asked you to.

Because he needs you to.

Because he’s holding on… just long enough to say what he came here to say.

He looks into your eyes — really looks — and for once, there’s no tension, no guarded edge. Just softness. Just him, stripped bare in a way you’ve never seen before.

His chest rises unevenly, each breath harder than the last, but somehow, he still manages a small half-smile. It’s tired, faint… but it’s real.

“You have… beautiful eyes…” he whispers, the words barely holding together as they leave his lips.

Your heart twists. Because even now — as the blood pools, as the night closes in — he chooses to say something kind. Something true.

And somehow, that hurts more than anything else.

“Not as pretty as yours…”

The words slip from your lips in a trembling breath, barely more than a whisper. You don’t even know where you found the strength to say them — maybe it’s the truth, or maybe it’s the ache tearing through your chest, begging you to hold onto something.

Your gaze locks with his, unsteady, shaking — but you don’t look away.

You can’t.

You study every line of his face like it’s the last page of a story you’re not ready to finish. The way his lashes flutter with each breath. The way his mouth twitches at the corners, still trying to smile. The soft, fading warmth in his eyes.

You drink it all in — desperate, pleading — because deep down, some part of you knows.

This is the last time you’ll ever see him like this.

And you want to remember everything.

He lets out another quiet chuckle, broken and low in his throat. The sound is strained, cracked around the edges — and it’s followed by a soft wince, his body curling slightly from the pain it cost him.

“Sh-Shut up, nerd…” he murmurs, voice barely holding together, but there's still a flicker of teasing in it — weak, but familiar. Him.

He takes another shaky breath — longer this time, like he's trying to hold it in, like he’s trying to stay just a little longer.

Then, with what little strength he has left, his other hand reaches up. Slow, trembling, deliberate.

His fingers brush your cheek, gentle despite how unsteady they are. He cups your face like it’s fragile, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he lets go.

Maybe he’s right.

And still… even now, he’s trying to comfort you.

A soft, broken laugh escapes you — barely there, more breath than sound — but it’s real. Just for a second. Your eyes close, like maybe if you don’t look at him, this moment won’t be what it is. Like maybe time will stop if you just… shut your eyes long enough.

“I love when y-you call me that…” you whisper, voice cracking as you lean ever so slightly into his touch.

You don’t say why.

Maybe because it made you feel seen. Maybe because it meant he was still him, even when the world was falling apart. Or maybe just because it made you forget — even for a moment — how this is all ending.

You want to stay here. Like this. In the space between pain and goodbye.

But you can feel it — the way his hand trembles more now, the way his breaths keep getting shorter.

You’re running out of time.

His thumb moves slowly across your cheek, barely more than a ghost of a touch. It’s trembling now, but still full of a tenderness that makes your chest ache even harder.

More blood spills from the corner of his mouth, trailing down as he exhales shakily — like every breath is a war he’s fighting just to stay with you a little longer.

“Yeah… I know you do, you nerd,” he whispers, and even now, his voice holds that familiar warmth, stretched thin by pain but still there. Still him.

His hand stays on your cheek, though it’s weaker now — fingers twitching, barely able to hold on.

But he does.

Because he’s not ready to let go.

And neither are you.

You lift your hand, still shaking, and gently weave your fingers through his — the ones still resting against your cheek. His skin is cold now, colder than it should be, but you hold on like you can warm him just by staying close enough.

A soft smile touches your lips, bittersweet and trembling, but it’s real. For him. Just for him.

You nod slowly, blinking past the blur in your eyes as fresh tears slip down your cheeks and soak into the spaces between your joined hands.

You don’t have to say anything.

He knows.

And for a moment, everything goes quiet — just the two of you, holding on.

Even if it’s only for a little longer.

His fingers curl weakly around yours, returning your touch with the last strength he has. It’s not much — just a soft squeeze — but it’s enough to send another wave of pain crashing through your chest.

That smile is still there, faint and faltering, blood clinging to the corners of his lips, but it stays. Like he’s trying to make this easier for you. Like he wants that to be the last thing you remember — not the blood, not the battlefield, but him. Smiling.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and his eyes flutter shut for just a moment — like he’s gathering the will to say what needs to be said.

Then he looks at you again, gaze heavy with meaning, with everything he never got to say before this.

“You… you mean a lot to me… you know that right?” he whispers, voice hoarse and strained, but laced with nothing but truth.

And behind it — all of it — is that quiet, desperate hope.

That you believe him.

That you knew, even before he said it.

Your smile falters — slips, crumbles — and then it’s gone, lost in the sob that tears out of you before you can stop it. It racks your already broken body, sending another wave of agony through your chest, but you don’t care.

You lean in closer, pressing yourself against him, trying to feel something — anything — that says he’s still here. Still warm. Still alive.

“T-This isn’t how it was supposed to go…”

The words come out cracked and small, like a child’s — raw and pleading. You’re not even sure who you’re saying it to. Him. The universe. Yourself.

None of it matters.

All that matters is he’s slipping through your fingers, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

So you just hold on tighter.

Because you don’t know how to let go.

He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, trying to offer what little warmth he has left. It’s weak, but it’s there. His hand brushes against your back, the touch a soft, trembling comfort — like he's trying to keep you from breaking, even though he’s the one shattering.

“I know…” he murmurs, voice thick with regret. It’s a whisper against your ear, rough but steady.

His body trembles against yours, and you can feel it — the tremor of his heartbeat slowing, the way his breaths are becoming ragged and shallow.

“I should’ve done better… I should’ve been faster…” The words come out like they’re tearing at him, like each one costs him more than he has left to give.

But he says them anyway. Because maybe, just maybe, if he says it enough, it’ll make this moment hurt just a little less.

It doesn’t.

It never could.

Your hand — bloodied, trembling — rises slowly. Every muscle protests, but you ignore it. You have to do this.

You cup his cheek, the skin clammy beneath your fingers, and gently turn his face toward yours. His eyes flutter open again, just barely, as if even now, even like this, he knows it’s you.

You meet his gaze, voice cracking under the weight of everything you should’ve said sooner.

“I should’ve told you…” you whisper, choking on the words. “T-Told you how hopelessly I’m in love with you. A-...A long time ago.”

Another sob escapes you as your thumb brushes against his cheekbone, smearing blood and tears together.

“I should’ve kissed you until neither of us could breathe. I should’ve been faster.”

Your voice breaks entirely at the end, collapsing into a whisper so soft it’s almost not there.

You’re not just mourning what’s happening — you’re mourning everything that could’ve happened. Everything you’ll never get back.

And still, you hold him like he’s your whole world.

Because he is.

His breath hitched, like your words had pulled the air straight out of his lungs. And somehow… somehow, even now, he smiled. Just the smallest curve of his lips — bloodstained, broken — but real.

His eyes closed for a moment, long lashes fluttering against your hand as he leaned into your touch like it was the only thing grounding him to this world.

“You… you love me?…”

His voice was disbelieving, soft — like it didn’t quite register, like it was something too impossible to be real. His eyes opened again, searching yours.

And in that moment, he looked at you as though you were the most unexpected, most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Like he couldn’t believe you were saying it — here, now, at the edge of everything.

And you could see it — the quiet devastation in his eyes.

He’d wanted to hear those words.

He just hadn’t expected to hear them this late.

“S-So much. So fuckin’ much, Katsuki…”

Your voice is barely more than a whisper, cracked and bleeding around the edges. It slips out like a confession and a goodbye all at once, and it hurts — because it’s the truth. And the truth has never felt so heavy.

You force yourself to look at him, really look — but your gaze drifts, unbidden, to the gaping wound in his chest.

It’s bad. Too bad.

And you know it.

Your bottom lip trembles as you bite down on it hard, trying — begging — for the tears to stop, for time to stop, for this not to be the end. But the taste of iron fills your mouth and your chest starts to heave with quiet, helpless sobs.

Katsuki doesn’t look away. Even through the pain, even as everything starts to dim around him — he looks only at you.

Because you're the last thing he wants to see.

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle — what little he could manage. The sound was broken, shaky… but genuine.

His eyes never left yours.

And this time, there was something in them you’d never seen before. Not the usual fire, not the sharp edges or stubborn pride — but something gentler, softer. Something that belonged only to you.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted you to say that…”

His hand lifted with effort, trembling as it rose. He reached toward your face, brushing a strand of hair away with the care of someone who knew it might be the last thing he ever touched.

“I’ve always loved you too, dumbass…”

His voice cracked at the end — not from pain, but from feeling. From every unspoken word that had burned behind his silence for so long.

And in that moment, even with the world falling apart around you, it was just you and him.

Just love.

Just heartbreak.

Just… goodbye slowly creeping in.

A broken, watery laugh escapes your throat, caught somewhere between joy and devastation. It rattles out of you before you can stop it, your chest aching with the weight of it all.

You look back up at him — and God, even now… even like this…

He’s still everything.

The blood, the bruises, the fading light in his eyes — none of it takes away from the way he looks to you. Like he hung the stars. Like he fought the whole damn world and still somehow managed to be yours in the end.

Your gaze drinks him in, every inch, every breath, like you’re burning him into memory — because some part of you already knows.

You’re running out of time.

And still, as you look at him — cradling his hand, holding on with everything you have left — all you can think is:

He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Even in death, he’s your goddamn hero.

His hand didn’t leave your cheek.

It trembled now, weaker with every passing second, but it kept moving — slow, reverent, his thumb tracing small circles against your skin like he was memorizing the feel of you.

Like he was begging time to stop.

His eyes searched your face, full of something raw… something fragile. He was looking at you like this was the last thing in the world he’d ever see — and he wanted to burn it into the very last beat of his heart.

Then, barely a whisper:

“Why…”

He cleared his throat, voice hoarse and fading.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even sad.

It was just… broken.

Not because he was dying.

But because you both could’ve had so much more.

And now all he had was this — your face in his hand, and a question that would haunt the silence you’d be left with.

“I—... I was scared.”

Your voice quivers, raw with the weight of everything you should’ve said long before now. The confession slips from your lips like blood from a wound — slow, painful, irreversible.

“I didn’t w-want you to think I was… weak,” you breathe, your throat tightening as more tears blur your vision. “That I’m some sick person who falls in love with the same man she thought she hated…”

Your fingers curl tighter around his, terrified of the moment his hand might go still.

“I c-couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk you not feeling the same for me.”

Your voice breaks on the last word, and your whole body aches — not just from the injuries, but from the unbearable ache of almost. Of what could’ve been.

And even now, with the world crumbling around you, you wonder what it would’ve been like to love him in the light.

Not on a battlefield soaked in blood and regret.

But in peace. In safety. In time.

He let out a soft, breathless chuckle — the sound fragile, barely hanging on.

But his eyes… his eyes never left yours.

“I could never think you’re weak…” he whispered, voice thin and unraveling.

His gaze burned into you — not with fire, but with truth, with something so raw and open it tore straight through you.

“And I could never hate you…”

He swallowed hard, blinking slowly as the world around him seemed to grow dimmer.

“Even when I thought I hated everyone…” His voice faltered, a flicker of pain cutting through his features. “I never hated you…”

Another sharp breath. His body tensed, a wave of agony rippling through him.

You felt it as his grip on your hand tightened — not by much, but enough to make your chest cave in all over again.

He was still holding on.

For you.

“I—... I know that now,” you whisper, your voice trembling like the world beneath your feet.

Your smile flickers, shaky and pained, but real — as real as the blood drying on your skin and the heat slowly draining from the battlefield.

“I f-feel like I can die easier.”

And somehow, it feels true.

Because now you know. Now you finally know what his heart sounded like when it beat for you. And for once, even with death brushing at your heels, there’s peace in that.

Your hand trails up to his cheek, gentle, reverent — like he’s fragile glass and you’re trying to keep him from cracking too fast. You rub slow, calming circles against his skin, trying to distract him from the agony clawing at his chest.

His eyes flutter under your touch.

His breath stutters.

But he leans into your palm, like your hand is the only thing anchoring him to the world.

And maybe it is.

He leaned into your hand like it was the last bit of warmth he had left in him — like he could imprint the shape of your fingers into his memory, even as it all started to slip away.

Your touch was soft… but it was everything.

And then, with a voice so fragile it nearly shattered between his teeth, he whispered—

“I… I don’t want to die…”

His eyes — wide, glassy, pleading — locked onto yours, and it broke something deep in your chest.

Because it wasn’t just fear.

It was want. It was longing.

He didn’t want to leave this moment — you — behind. Not when he’d just gotten to hold you like this. Not when he finally knew you loved him back. Not when the world had finally, finally made sense.

But life doesn’t care about perfect moments.

And time, cruel and indifferent, never slows down.

Not even for love.

“M-Me too…”

The words barely make it past your lips — broken, trembling, as if admitting them aloud might make the pain more real. But you say them anyway. Because it’s the truth.

You don’t want to die.

Not like this. Not here. Not without him.

You shuffle closer, body crying out in protest, but you ignore it — every scream of pain, every pulse of blood — just to be nearer. Just to feel him, even if it’s only for a little longer.

You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, pressing your face against the warmth that’s already starting to fade. His scent still lingers — smoke, sweat, him — and it’s enough to make your eyes spill fresh, silent tears down your cheeks.

He lets out a small, ragged breath at the feeling of you so close.

His arm tightens weakly around you.

Neither of you says anything for a moment.

You just hold on — to the silence, to the closeness, to the lie that maybe, somehow, this moment could last forever.

His arm curled around you with what little strength he had left, trembling but sure. He held you like he was trying to stitch the two of you together — like maybe if he held on tight enough, the world would forget to take him away.

Your body, warm against his, was the last good thing he could feel. The last real thing in a world that was fading at the edges.

He pressed his forehead gently against the crown of your head, his breath hitching in his throat as he inhaled you — memorized you. It was shaky. It was shallow. But it was filled with every ounce of him that still remained.

And then his grip tightened.

Not violently — no. Just desperate. Desperate in the way only someone who knows they’re running out of time can be.

He didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. Not when he’d just found home — and it was you.

“Maybe-...maybe in another life, we’ll be happily married with… two kids?”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, soft and dreamlike — like you’re trying to paint a future over the ruin around you. A fragile little giggle slips out, even as your eyes glisten with unshed tears.

You tilt your head, just enough to look up at him, waiting for him to laugh with you. Waiting for him to promise you that dream.

He looks down at you.

And despite everything — the blood, the pain, the creeping cold — his lips twitch into a faint smile.

His gaze softens, eyes shimmering with everything he never got to give you.

He chuckled softly, the sound cracked and low in his chest, but still undeniably him. For a fleeting second, it felt normal — like you were lying in bed after a long day, laughing about a future you hadn't even begun yet.

“I bet they’d be real brats just like me, huh?” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper, laced with exhaustion… and affection.

His eyes fluttered closed as he pictured it — a messy little family, loud and chaotic and whole. You. Him. Two little firecrackers running around, carrying pieces of you both.

It would’ve been beautiful.

He let out a breath, then pulled you closer — like it physically hurt to have even an inch between you. You felt his arm tighten, shaky and weak, but full of need. He was holding on with everything he had left.

“A-and just as strong, j-just as smart… just as… brave.”

Your voice cracked with every word, the weight of the dream settling heavy on your chest. You pressed your forehead against his, blinking back tears that refused to stop. You wanted to give him that picture — a legacy of love and light in a world that had been so cruel to him.

He let out a soft, broken sound — something between a breath and a sob — as his thumb traced slow, lazy circles against your skin.

He chuckled again, the sound faint — barely a whisper carried by the wind — but still there. Still him.

“And just as beautiful…” he breathed out, voice thin and ragged.

His head inched closer, the last of his strength spent just to be nearer to you. His bloodied hand never left yours. His eyes, dulling yet warm, searched your face like it was the last light in a collapsing world.

“Just like their mother…”

That smile — small, cracked, fading — it still somehow made your heart skip. Even now. Even here.

The tears finally fell faster. You didn’t stop them.

Because what do you say to the man you almost had forever with?

What do you do when love arrives at the end?

You grin, sheepishly, weakly — like a flicker of warmth in the middle of a storm.

“S-shut up…” you mumble, voice small, cracking at the edges.

Your face flushes despite everything, and for a second — one impossibly fragile second — it feels like you’re just teasing each other again. Like you're lying on the couch at home, not on blood-soaked ground with time slipping between your fingers.

His smile deepened just a bit, like seeing your blush was the only thing holding him together.

He took in how flustered you got, the way your face flushed despite everything. Despite the battlefield, despite the pain, despite the blood.

A small, crooked smirk pulled at his lips — the kind he always gave when he knew he got under your skin.

“I’ll shut up when you make me…” he whispered, teasing, soft, but laced with the kind of ache that only came when you knew time was up.

And even with agony ripping through every inch of his body, he still leaned in — just a little closer. His breath was shallow, his lips trembling as he got near enough that your noses almost brushed. His forehead rested lightly against yours, the contact grounding him. Grounding you.

There was nothing but the two of you now — everything else had faded.

Your smile falters, trembling at the corners as the weight of his words hits you like another wound.

Your gaze drops to his lips — bruised, and stained red — and your chest tightens so violently it steals the breath from your lungs. Your heart aches in your ribcage, desperate and helpless.

Your breathing grows ragged.

Not because of the pain… not just the pain.

But because this is it.

This is the moment. The kind that only comes once. The kind that makes your soul scream.

You lean in, forehead still pressed against his, your hand ghosting over his cheek, fingers memorizing every inch like a final prayer.

His voice, though weak and ragged, still held that familiar teasing lilt — the one that always managed to cut through everything else and go straight to your heart.

“What are you looking at, nerd?…” he whispered, his smirk curling just slightly wider despite the pain etched into every inch of his face.

He noticed. Of course he did. Even now, he noticed everything about you.

His hand, trembling but still so warm, cupped the side of your face with more tenderness than you thought possible. His thumb brushed softly along your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

Your eyes stayed locked on his lips, helpless to look away, like they were a lifeline — a last chance at something real before it all slipped away.

Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper, trembling with every ounce of fear and longing tangled in your chest.

“P-please… I’ve always wanted to—”

You couldn’t finish.

The words caught in your throat like shards of glass, but the meaning hung in the air between you — heavy, desperate, undeniable.

You looked into his eyes, hoping he could see it all there: the love, the regret, the ache that had lived in you far too long. Your breath hitched as your fingers curled into the fabric of his torn uniform, grounding yourself in the only thing that felt real anymore — him.

His smirk faded into something softer — a gentle smile filled with warmth and longing — as his fingers reached up, delicately brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“Then do it, you idiot… what are you waiting for?”

His voice was barely above a whisper, breathless and raw, as he leaned in just a little more — close enough that you could feel the tremble in his breath, close enough that your heart stuttered.

You shakily pull him closer, fingers trembling as they curl around the fabric of his torn uniform. The pain, the blood, the chaos of the battlefield — it all dissolves into nothing.

The world shrinks until it’s just him. Just you. Just this moment.

Your forehead rests against his as your breaths mingle, uneven and fragile, but finally in sync. Everything else fades — every scream, every fear, every broken piece — leaving only the desperate thrum of your heart as it beats for him.

And nothing else matters.

He let himself be pulled closer, your breath ghosting over his lips — warm, shaky, alive. In that moment, he was drowning in you. The sounds of war faded into a distant hum; the only thing anchoring him to this world was the rapid, uneven rhythm of your heartbeat pressed against his own.

His eyes flicked down to your lips, gaze heavy with longing. He didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t.

Before the thought even fully formed, he leaned in — and finally, finally — his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, trembling and uncertain. But then the urgency kicked in. Like he knew — deep down — that this might be his only chance. That time was slipping through his fingers like blood on the battlefield.

His hand found your waist, holding you as close as he could despite the pain. He poured everything into that kiss — the regret, the yearning, the love he’d buried too long. The metallic tang of blood lingered between you, but neither of you cared.

He deepened the kiss, trembling fingers gripping the back of your shirt, desperate to memorize the way you felt — the way you fit into him like you always had. He kissed you like a dying man — because he was one. And all he wanted… was to stay here. With you. Just a little longer.

“K-Kats—”

You gasp out, pulling away just enough to see his face, your hands instinctively moving to steady him.

“Easy… d-don’t waste your energy, okay?” you murmur, brushing your thumb over his cheek with a shaky smile. “Once we’re back home… we won’t have to stop. Not ever again, hm?”

He smirked at your words, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and affection as his fingers lightly traced just beneath your ribs, leaving a trail of warmth on your skin.

“Who said I plan on stopping… even when we get home?” he murmured, voice rough but teasing, as if trying to hold onto every bit of strength he had left—just for you.

You chuckle, the sound barely louder than a breath, as your eyes soften and you nestle your head gently against his shoulder, finding solace in his warmth despite everything.

“Y-Your lips are soft…” you murmur, a faint smile tugging at your trembling lips, holding onto the moment like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

He chuckled again at the sound of your laugh, a quiet, strained sound that warmed his heart despite the pain. His hand moved up, fingers trembling slightly as he gently ran them through your hair, his touch as soft as he could manage.

“Yours are softer, dumbass…” he whispered, his voice thick with affection, as if that small moment was enough to make him forget the blood, the battle, the hurt. Just for a second.

You smile softly against him, your heart fluttering as your eyes slowly lift to meet his.

“…Katsuki?” you whisper, voice barely above a breath.

He blinked slowly, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet tenderness.

“Yeah…?” he murmured, his voice weaker now, but still holding onto every bit of strength just for you.

“We—…we won’t die, right?” you ask, voice trembling as doubt and fear creep into your words. “This is just a nightmare? You’ll be next to me when I wake up?”

He exhaled a trembling breath, his fingers weakly threading through your hair as if grounding himself in the moment.

“I promise… you’re not getting rid of me that easy. We’re… we’re both gonna make it out of this,” he murmured, even as the crack in his voice betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide.

You choke on your own breath, the weight of regret pressing hard against your chest.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracking as the words tumble out. “I’m sorry I wasn’t b-better to you. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I let my ego get in the way… I let it ruin everything.”

Your throat burns, your heart splintering with every word. You’d give anything to turn back time—but all you can do now is hold onto him a little tighter, hoping it’s not too late.

A soft, broken chuckle slipped from his lips as he tightened his hold around you, as if anchoring you to the moment.

“Hey… stop that…” he murmured, his voice low, strained but warm.

He lifted your chin with trembling fingers, forcing your tear-filled eyes to meet his.

“Quit apologizing… you’re fine… I wasn’t exactly a saint to you either…” he whispered, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips—one that said he forgave you long before you even knew you needed to be forgiven.

“I-...I know, but—”

Your voice cracked under the weight of everything unsaid, the guilt, the fear, the aching truth that time was slipping through your fingers like sand.

You clung to him, your hand gripping his shirt like it could keep him tethered to you, like if you just held tight enough, he wouldn’t slip away.

He pressed his thumb softly against your trembling lips, silencing the words before they could fall.

“None of that matters now, okay?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper—raw, ragged, and filled with everything he no longer had the strength to say.

“I love you… and that’s all that matters…”

His eyes searched yours as if memorizing you was the last thing keeping him grounded.

Your eyes widen for a split second, the weight of his words hitting you like a wave.

You feel the burn behind your eyelids as tears rush up, blurring your vision. You manage a small nod—fragile, desperate—because it’s all you can do to keep from falling apart completely.

He pulls you in tighter, his grip trembling but firm, like he’s trying to merge your heartbeat with his—trying to make this moment last just a little longer.

“Say it back, dumbass…” he mutters, voice low and cracking, laced with a desperate edge.

You press yourself gently against him, arms wrapped around his trembling frame as if holding him together could somehow keep him here longer.

“I love you too… so much,” you whisper, your voice barely holding together as you shut your eyes tight—wanting nothing more than to freeze time, to burn this moment into your memory before it slips away forever.

His fingers found their way back into your hair, stroking gently, almost trembling. You could feel it—his strength fading, second by second, slipping through your grasp.

“Say it again…”

His voice was soft—barely a whisper—but laced with a desperation that cracked something deep inside you.

“I love you…”

The words fall from your lips again and again, fragile and trembling, like a prayer meant only for him. Your eyes grow heavier with each breath, your body sinking further into his hold as you repeat it—like it’s the only truth left in the world, like saying it enough times might keep him here.

Every time those three words slipped from your lips, it shattered something in him—in the most beautiful, unbearable way. It was the only thing grounding him, the only sound that still made the world feel a little less cruel. He clung to it like a lifeline, desperate, aching.

He dipped his head, pressing a trembling kiss to the crown of yours, voice barely more than a breath:

“Again.”

Your voice was barely a whisper now, trembling with exhaustion as each word fell from your lips like a final vow.

“I love you, Bakugou Katsuki.”

You could feel your chest tighten, breaths growing shallow, but you pushed through, because he needed to hear this—needed to know.

“No matter where you are… I’ll always love you.”

And with a soft, fading smile, you let your heavy eyes close, holding onto the feeling of his warmth one last time.

To him, it was heaven—each time the words left your lips, it was like breathing again in a world where everything was collapsing. He clung to it, to you, like a lifeline.

His trembling hand rose to your cheek, gently cupping it, thumb brushing against your skin as his voice cracked with urgency.

“Don’t close your eyes… I’m not done hearing you say it yet…”

His gaze pleaded with yours—desperate, breaking—as if sheer will could keep you here just a little longer.

“I’m tired…”

You whisper with a trembling smile, lips quivering as you force the words out. Your voice is barely more than a breath, thin and strained. Your body feels impossibly heavy, like the weight of the world is sinking into your bones. Every breath drags like fire through your chest, jagged and sharp. The warmth that once lingered in your limbs is slipping away, replaced by an aching cold that spreads fast—too fast.

Your eyes flutter half-lidded, the pain catching up to you in waves. Each throb in your chest is a cruel reminder that time is running out. It’s getting harder to tell where the ache ends and you begin. Every nerve screams for relief, for rest—but your heart aches more for him than your wounds ever could.

Still, you try to smile through the torment. Just for him. Just to keep him from falling apart.

He took in the sight of you—broken, bleeding, barely clinging to consciousness—and it shattered him. His throat tightened, eyes stinging with tears he refused to let fall.

“Stay awake…”

His voice cracked under the weight of desperation. He knew—god, he knew—it was a losing battle. Your body was giving in, your breaths growing shallower with each passing second. But he couldn’t let go. Not yet. Not when you were still in his arms. Not when he hadn’t had enough of your voice, your warmth, your love.

So he begged, even if it was pointless. Even if the world was already slipping through his fingers.

“L-let’s sleep, okay? Just for a bit…”

Your voice is fragile—barely more than a breath—as it cracks under the weight of everything. You press yourself tighter against him, chasing the warmth that’s already starting to slip away. Your body aches, your chest burns with every shallow breath, and your limbs feel too heavy to move anymore.

Your eyes begin to close on their own, too tired to fight it, but you manage one last whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You promised you’ll be here when I wake up… yeah?”

You don’t even wait for the answer—you just need to believe it.

You felt him nod against you, barely there—just enough to hold onto. His breath trembled as it left his lips, worn and slow, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held you even closer, what little strength he had left pouring into the embrace.

“Yeah… I promise…”

His voice was faint, almost lost to the silence around you. And even though his arms still held you, you could feel the way his grip was faltering—like sand slipping through your fingers. But for now, that promise was enough.

You whisper the words, your voice barely audible, trembling like a fragile thread holding your heart together.

“I w-wish our children have your eyes…”

A soft, broken smile tugs at your lips as you gaze at him, even while your vision begins to blur at the edges. Your breaths come slower, shallower, as if your lungs are struggling to keep up with your aching heart. You reach up weakly, your fingers brushing his jaw, trying to memorize the shape of him—his warmth, the way his eyes still burned with so much love despite the fear swimming behind them.

“They’d… be so lucky,” you add, your voice catching in your throat, “to grow up looking at the world through eyes as fierce… and kind… as yours…”

He doesn’t speak. He just holds you tighter, his own tears falling silently now, landing warm against your skin. You don’t have to look to know he’s breaking inside. You can feel it in every trembling breath he exhales against your hair, every desperate squeeze of your hand.

And still… you smile. Because even if this was the end, you’d had this moment. You’d had him.

Even if only for a little while.

You felt his voice more than you heard it—low, cracked, strained beneath the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

“Yeah..? Well… I wish they have that pretty smile of yours…”

His words trembled, wrapped in a forced chuckle that barely masked the shatter in his chest. You felt the way his body shook, the uneven rhythm of his breathing against yours. He was trying to be strong—for you, for this—but his voice betrayed him.

His vision was swimming now, blurred by the tears he hadn’t let fall until now. You reached up, brushing your thumb beneath his eye as one slipped free, your heart squeezing at the sight of him breaking down piece by piece.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was loud with everything you both wanted, everything you’d never get to have.

He let out a trembling breath, the corners of his lips twitching into the ghost of a smile—fragile, fleeting.

“When we wake up…”

But the way his voice cracked near the end, the way he held you just a little tighter as if anchoring himself to the promise—it said everything the words didn’t.

Because deep down, you both knew.

That sleep might be the last thing you ever shared.

Your voice is barely a whisper, the syllables shaky as they leave your lips.

“S-Sweet dreams, Suki…”

You manage the words with what little strength you have left. Your trembling fingers reach up to press a soft, lingering kiss against the edge of his jaw—slow, tender, full of everything you never got the time to say. Then, you let yourself fall into the warmth of his neck, your body giving out as you take one last deep breath.

It’s heavy. Final.

And in that moment, the world goes quiet around you.

His breath hitched.

Your kiss—soft, warm, final—burned into his skin like a brand he never wanted to fade.

“Sweet dreams, nerd…”

His voice cracked on the last word as his arms clung to you with the last of his strength. He felt your weight grow heavier against him. Still. Quiet.

He buried his face in your hair, his body trembling.

“I’ll… see you when I wake up.”

But even as he whispered it, the silence that followed shattered something inside him.

The gaping wound on his chest throbbed with each slowing heartbeat, but it wasn’t the pain that stole his breath—it was yours, gone. Your stillness. Your final exhale. It broke him more than any injury ever could.

And in that moment, he knew.

You weren’t waking up. And neither was he.

His grip loosened as his forehead stayed pressed to yours, tears slipping down his cheeks.

If this was the end… at least it was with you.

Together. Always.

Even in the silence.

────────────────────────────────────────────

masterlist - anime masterlist

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[cup1drul3z]

★ — Thats MY girl | CH 6

4.0ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ | ᴄᴇᴏ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

CW : Age gap if you squint, PLUS SIZED READER, power kink, cheating, modern au, new york, assistant reader, readers a little awkward but we love her anyway, sugar mommy, SMUT, fingering, cunninglings, strap, bondage, lingerie, angst, pregnancy

A/N : I did the number wrong in the html maker so now its a different color

The message still lingers on your phone screen.

You’re not alone.

Your fingers tremble as you lock it and shove it deep into your bag like burying it might make it disappear.

But your pulse doesn’t slow.

Across the office, Sevika’s still walking toward you. Casual. Calm. Like she doesn’t know anything’s wrong.

Because she doesn’t.

Not yet.

You push out of the chair so fast it skids back with a loud scrape.

“Hey,” she calls, her voice low and curious. “You good?”

You nod too fast. “Yeah—I just—bathroom.”

Before she can say anything else, you turn and walk off, not too fast, but fast enough that you can feel her eyes on your back the whole way.

You duck into the bathroom, lock the door, and brace your hands against the sink.

You don’t even look at yourself in the mirror.

You just breathe.

Try to, anyway.

You squeeze your eyes shut, jaw clenched, chest tight.

You weren’t hallucinating.

That was your apartment door.

That was you in that photo.

Someone was there.

Watching.

And now they know more than they should.

You turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face, biting the inside of your cheek until you taste blood.

You don’t cry.

You can’t.

Instead, you whisper to yourself—

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

But deep down?

You’re not.

Because this isn’t a random message.

This isn’t a prank.

This is someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“Hey,” Jinx calls, her voice muffled but concerned. “You okay in there? You kinda stormed off like–.”

You take a shaky breath.

Then unlock the door and yank her inside before she can finish the joke.

“Whoa—” she stumbles in, startled. “Okay, wow. Ambush therapy session?”

You lock the door behind her.

She immediately sobers.

“...You’re not okay,” she says, tone dropping. “What happened?”

You grab your phone, hands still shaking, and pull up the photo messages. Your thumb hovers for a second—like showing her will make it real.

Then you hand it to her.

She scrolls through slowly.

The café photo. Your apartment door.

Then the message.

You’re not alone.

Jinx doesn’t say anything for a second.

Then: “...Okay, I’m not gonna lie. That’s fucked up.”

You nod, hugging your arms.

“How long ago did you get these?”

“Right before you came over.”

“And you haven’t told Sevika?”

Your silence answers for you.

Jinx stares at you like you’ve grown another head. “What the hell are you waiting for? You don’t just not tell your hot crime boss girlfriend when you’re getting stalked—!”

“I’m not telling her,” you cut in sharply.

Jinx blinks. “...Why the hell not?”

You rub your eyes with the heel of your hand, jaw tight. “Because if I do… she’ll kill them.”

Jinx stares at you, lips parting like she wants to argue—but then slowly closes her mouth.

You continue, voice low. “I’ve never seen her like that, but I’ve seen enough. She’d lose it. She wouldn’t stop. And I’m not trying to drag her into something that’ll ruin her life just to protect mine.”

Jinx leans against the sink, arms crossed.

“So you’re protecting her… by keeping yourself in danger?”

“I’m not in danger. Yet.”

“That’s a really optimistic ‘yet,’ babe.”

You both fall quiet.

Then Jinx exhales and mutters, “Sevika’s gonna explode when she finds out you didn’t tell her.”

You nod once. “I know.”

You look at her, eyes burning.

“But if this gets worse—I mean really worse—you’re the one I’m calling first.”

Jinx stares at you.

Then nods.

“Deal.”

The rest of the day crawls.

You keep your head down, fingers glued to the keyboard, pretending every email you send is more urgent than the thoughts crawling around in your skull.

You try to breathe normally. Try not to look at your phone. Try to tell yourself the cameras in the ceiling aren’t pointed at you.

No one notices.

Or so you think.

You make it through a meeting, half a spreadsheet, and a painfully long slideshow review. Everything feels too loud, too bright, too exposed.

But you keep going.

Because working feels better than thinking.

You’re in the middle of reviewing vendor receipts when a shadow falls over your desk.

You don’t register it.

Not until a hand gently touches your shoulder.

You flinch hard.

You spin around, eyes wide, heart in your throat—

It’s Sevika.

She pulls her hand back immediately, eyes narrowing. “Hey—whoa. It’s just me.”

You’re already standing, taking a shaky breath. “Sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t hear you.”

Her brows knit.

“You okay?”

You nod too fast. “Yeah, just… focused. Didn’t sleep great.”

She studies you, gaze dropping briefly to your hands—shaking slightly where they grip the back of your chair.

“You sure?”

You force a smile.

“Positive.”

She doesn’t look convinced.

But she doesn’t push—yet.

“Alright,” she says finally. “Let me know if you need to step out or something.”

“Thanks,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

She walks off, slow and still watching you from the corner of her eye.

And when she’s gone, you sit back down.

Hands still trembling.

Chest still tight.

And you realize—

This isn’t going away.

You’re curled up on the couch, lights dimmed, TV playing something you’ve already stopped paying attention to. The screen flickers across your face in soft, disconnected colors.

You’re trying to relax.

Trying to breathe.

You keep checking the time.

Sevika’s supposed to stop by soon—said she’d bring takeout. Said you could “pretend to be normal together.”

And for a few minutes, it feels like that might be possible.

Until your phone buzzes.

Your stomach drops before you even look at it.

You know.

Unknown number.

You hesitate.

Then swipe.

It’s another photo.

This one’s taken from just outside your window.

Through the curtain.

You’re in it—blurry, grainy, but it’s you on the couch, phone in hand, legs pulled up under you.

Taken tonight.

Taken minutes ago.

Your blood runs cold.

Another message follows:

You look better when you’re alone.

You shoot to your feet, heart hammering so loud you can barely hear the TV anymore.

Your hands are shaking as you back away from the window—just a few inches. Like that’ll help.

You fumble for your phone, heart thudding in your ears.

You want to call Jinx.

You want to scream.

But before you can decide—

There’s a knock at the door.

You freeze.

Stare at it.

One beat.

Then another.

“Hey,” Sevika’s voice calls, muffled through the wood. Calm. Normal. “It’s me.”

You don’t move.

You look at the phone in your hand.

Then the door.

Then the window.

You take a deep breath.

Then another.

And unlock the door with trembling fingers.

Sevika stands there, takeout bag in hand, dressed in dark slacks and a jacket she probably hasn’t taken off since she left the office. Her brows lift the moment she sees your face.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you lie. “Just tired.”

She eyes you a second longer, lips parting like she’s about to question it—but then she steps inside.

You shut the door quickly behind her. Lock it.

One, two clicks.

You feel her gaze on your back.

When you turn around, you’re already moving closer to her—too close, maybe. Not quite touching, but close enough that she pauses mid-step.

You don’t explain.

You just… need to be near her.

The scent of her cologne grounds you.

The soft rustle of her jacket as she shifts her weight makes your breath come easier.

Sevika watches you carefully.

“You sure you’re okay?”

You look up at her.

And your voice comes out softer than you expect. “Can we just… sit for a bit?”

She doesn’t ask questions.

She sets the food down on the counter without looking away from you and nods. “Yeah. Course.”

You follow her to the couch, closer than usual, and when she sits, you slide right beside her—your thigh pressed against hers, your hand barely brushing her knee.

She glances at the contact.

Then at you.

But she doesn’t pull away.

She just leans back.

Arm stretching over the back of the couch—right behind your shoulders.

“I’m here,” she says, not loud. Not soft.

Just true.

And you nod, staring at your phone face-down on the coffee table.

Still silent.

But still watched.

The sunlight streaming through the window is soft and golden, warm against your bare legs as you stretch under the blanket. Sevika is still asleep next to you, her arm slung lazily across your stomach, her breathing steady.

For a moment, everything is quiet.

Still.

Safe.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

You flinch.

Sevika stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.

You lean over and grab the phone.

Unknown Number Voicemail: 1 New Missed Call: Westview Mental Health

Your stomach turns.

You slip out of bed quietly, heart pounding as you answer the number when it buzzes again.

A nurse answers. Gentle. Professional.

“Hi, this is Meredith from Westview. I’m calling about your mother—Marie.”

You sigh, already rubbing your forehead. “Yeah, no. Look, I’ve told you people before—I want nothing to do with her. She made her choices—”

“She’s dying,” the nurse cuts in softly.

You freeze.

“I—what?”

“Her long-term addiction’s taken a toll on her body and brain,” she explains. “There’s cognitive decline. Organ damage. Her body’s shutting down. We don’t know how long she has.”

You swallow hard, suddenly cold.

“She’s been asking about you,” the nurse adds after a pause. “Every day. Keeps asking when you’ll come. She keeps calling it her ‘final visit.’”

You say nothing.

You can’t.

“She doesn’t have many moments of clarity left,” the nurse says gently. “But when she does, it’s you. Over and over.”

There’s a long silence.

You barely whisper your next words. “...Why now?”

“I don’t think she knows what time means anymore,” the nurse replies. “But I think she knows she doesn’t have much of it left.”

You don’t even realize your hands are shaking until the phone slips a little in your grip.

You end the call.

You stand there in the doorway to the kitchen, sunlight still brushing your shoulder like nothing’s changed.

But everything has.

Behind you, you hear the rustle of sheets.

Then Sevika’s voice—still groggy, half-asleep.

“Babe?”

You don’t answer.

You just stare at the wall.

And feel like you’re seventeen again.

You stay standing in the kitchen for a long moment, back turned to the bedroom, the phone still in your hand.

You hear the creak of the mattress as Sevika sits up.

“Babe?” she calls again, more alert now.

You turn slowly.

She’s there in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her hair a mess

She sees your face.

And everything in her softens.

You take a shaky breath.

“My mom’s dying.”

The words fall out flat. Numb. Like they’ve already been said a thousand times in your head.

Sevika doesn’t rush toward you. Doesn’t say “I’m sorry” or “What happened?”

She just watches. Waits.

Your voice cracks on the next part.

“She’s in the mental institution still. They called this morning.”

Sevika nods once. “What do you need?”

That question almost breaks you.

You look down, lip trembling.

Then back at her.

“Can you come with me?” you ask quietly. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

There’s a pause.

But only because Sevika’s already crossing the room, closing the distance, taking your hand in hers.

“Of course,” she says, no hesitation. “You’re not going through that alone. Not ever.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

She squeezes your hand.

And for the first time in years—maybe your whole life—

You’re not walking into your mother’s world alone.

You stay standing in the kitchen for a long moment, back turned to the bedroom, the phone still in your hand.

You hear the creak of the mattress as Sevika sits up.

“Babe?” she calls again, more alert now.

You turn slowly.

She’s there in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her hair a mess, one of your oversized T-shirts clinging loose to her frame.

She sees your face.

And everything in her softens.

You take a shaky breath.

“My mom’s dying.”

The words fall out flat. Numb. Like they’ve already been said a thousand times in your head.

Sevika doesn’t rush toward you. Doesn’t say “I’m sorry” or “What happened?”

She just watches. Waits.

Your voice cracks on the next part.

“She’s in the mental institution still. They called this morning.”

Sevika nods once. “What do you need?”

That question almost breaks you.

You look down, lip trembling.

Then back at her.

“Can you come with me?” you ask quietly. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

There’s a pause.

But only because Sevika’s already crossing the room, closing the distance, taking your hand in hers.

“Of course,” she says, no hesitation. “You’re not going through that alone. Not ever.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

She squeezes your hand.

And for the first time in years—maybe your whole life—

You’re not walking into your mother’s world alone.

The nurse leads you and Sevika down a quiet hallway. The walls are pale blue, the air sterile, humming faintly with the buzz of too many fluorescent lights.

Your stomach flips with every step.

Room 213.

You hesitate at the door.

Sevika touches your back—light, steady.

You nod once.

And push it open.

The room smells like lavender air freshener and something faintly metallic. It’s dim. Peaceful in the most unsettling way.

And it’s filled with porcelain bunnies.

Dozens of them.

Lined on the windowsill. The nightstand. A few stacked awkwardly on the edge of a bookshelf. Some are chipped. One is missing an eye. All of them stare with those glossy, painted-on eyes like they know something.

You freeze in the doorway.

She’s in a wheelchair by the window.

Thin.

Pale.

But sitting up straight, cardigan wrapped around her narrow shoulders like armor.

She turns when she hears the door.

And smiles.

“There’s my girl,” she says, voice raspy, too bright.

You swallow, stepping inside.

Sevika stays right behind you.

Your mother’s eyes scan your face, then trail to Sevika—lingering.

Then she frowns slightly. “Where’s your boyfriend? The soft one.”

You pause.

Then clear your throat.

“We… broke up.”

“Oh.”

You glance at Sevika, then back at your mom.

“I’m with her now,” you say, quiet but firm.

Your mom doesn’t react at first.

Then—

“Good.”

You blink.

“What?”

She shifts in the wheelchair slightly, fingers fidgeting with the corner of her blanket.

“That boy always reminded me of William,” she says. “When we were teenagers.”

You feel your stomach drop.

Her tone is offhand. Nostalgic, even. Like she’s remembering an old movie—not your father.

You glance at Sevika. Her jaw is tight, but she says nothing.

Your mom keeps staring out the window.

“He was sweet, at first,” she adds. “Always wanted to touch. Always wanted to control. Thought he was in love. He only hit me after we moved in together.”

You stand frozen.

Silent.

“She never talks like this,” the nurse whispers from behind you. “This is the clearest she’s been in weeks.”

Your mom looks at you again.

Smile too small. Too calm.

“I’m glad he’s gone,” she says. “I wouldn’t want you ending up like me.”

You force yourself to speak.

“...I’m not.”

But your voice trembles.

Because you’re not sure who she’s talking about anymore—your dad, your ex...

Or herself.

Your mother shifts in her chair again, her fingers fumbling with a folder tucked into the pocket of her blanket.

“I’ve been waiting to give you this,” she says, her voice suddenly clearer than it has any right to be. “Didn’t want the nurses to mail it.”

She pulls out a worn envelope—yellowed at the edges, creased like it’s been opened and resealed a dozen times. She holds it out to you with shaking fingers.

You hesitate.

Then take it.

The paper feels heavier than it should.

You open it slowly.

Inside: a will. Signed. Dated. Official.

And your name—typed cleanly in all caps under the words SOLE BENEFICIARY.

Your heart pounds as your eyes scan the document.

“Wait…” you whisper.

“She left you the house,” Sevika says beside you, reading over your shoulder.

You swallow hard. “The house?”

Your mother nods. “It’s yours now. I had the deed transferred.”

Your hands start to tremble again.

“That house is…” you trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

A graveyard of memories.

Fist-shaped dents in drywall. Screams behind closed doors. A gunshot in the middle of the night that rewired your entire life.

You stare at the will like it might disappear if you blink hard enough.

“I don’t want it,” you whisper.

“It’s still yours,” your mother says simply.

Like it’s a kindness.

Like it’s a gift.

You’re still staring at the will when your mother speaks again.

Her voice is lower now. Slower. Like she knows she’s dragging you somewhere you don’t want to go.

“It hasn’t been emptied.”

Your head lifts.

“What?”

“The house,” she clarifies, turning her gaze back to the window. “No one’s lived there since that night. The police cleared the body… but no one touched anything else.”

Your throat goes dry.

She keeps going, like she’s telling you what groceries she forgot to buy.

“Your room’s still the way you left it. Posters. Clothes. The crack in the mirror. It’s all there.”

You feel like the floor might drop out from under you.

“All of it?” you whisper.

She nods slowly. “All of it.”

You can’t breathe.

“I couldn’t go back,” she continues, as if that explains everything. “And no one else would. So it just… stayed like that.”

You glance down at the will again.

That house.

That night.

Every scream etched into the drywall.

And now it’s yours.

Like a haunted time capsule no one else was willing to open.

Your mother looks back at you.

“I thought maybe you’d want it.”

You don’t answer.

Because you don’t know what’s worse—

That she kept it for you.

Or that part of you does want to see what’s still there.

You don’t say anything.

Not right away.

You just hold the will in your lap and stare down at it, the weight of her words crashing into your chest like a slow, rising tide.

The silence stretches.

Sevika shifts beside you, her voice low. “Hey…”

You look at her.

Your eyes are too still. Too wide.

She studies your face. “You okay?”

You swallow thickly, and then—smile.

It’s small, too polished, too practiced.

“I’m fine.”

It’s a lie.

She knows it.

But she doesn’t call you out—not here. Not now.

Your mom doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she just doesn’t care.

Instead, she reaches again into the pouch tucked beneath the blanket on her lap, and pulls out another envelope—this one sealed neatly with handwriting scrawled across the front in looping cursive.

“From your father’s side,” she says simply. “They sent it here a couple weeks ago. I didn’t want to open it.”

Your breath catches.

You take it with careful fingers.

The envelope smells faintly of dust and old perfume. Like it came from someone who still irons their Sunday shirts and keeps photos in albums.

You open it slowly.

Inside: a typed letter.

You scan it.

“We’d love to see you, sweetheart. It’s been too long. The family reunion is this july, and you’re more than welcome. We miss you. Your cousins still talk about that Fourth of July in the backyard. You’re always part of this family, no matter what happened.”

And then—

At the bottom, in smaller print:

“Please understand, we’re keeping this invitation between us. We don’t want your mother involved.”

Your hands tighten around the page.

The words blur for a moment before you blink them back into focus.

Sevika watches you closely, waiting for something—anything.

But you just smile again.

Same hollow curve of your lips.

You fold the letter. Slide it back into the envelope.

And say nothing.

Because somehow, this hurts more than anything your mother’s said today.

The drive home is quiet.

At first.

Sevika tries.

She talks about a board meeting being pushed, some new intern that almost accidentally deleted half the HR server, and how Mel’s been on her ass about quarterly reports like she doesn’t already handle half the company blindfolded.

You don’t respond.

You nod occasionally.

Maybe give a hum in the right places.

But you're not hearing her.

The letter still sits in your bag like a bomb waiting to go off.

The will.

The bunnies.

The smell of your mom’s room.

Your hands are folded in your lap, nails digging into your palm with every turn of the wheel.

Sevika glances at you, notices the way your eyes stay glued to the window, unfocused.

You haven’t said a word since you left.

Then—

At the next intersection, she slows at the stop sign.

And your voice breaks the silence.

“Take a left.”

Sevika glances over. “What?”

You don’t look at her. “Just take it.”

She hesitates.

Then makes the turn.

The road narrows, lined with trees now, familiar but suffocating. The sun’s starting to dip, casting long shadows that stretch across the hood of the car.

Another few moments pass.

And then she asks—cautious, like she already knows she won’t like the answer:

“Uh… where are we going?”

You finally turn to look at her.

Your voice is low.

Even.

“A place I should’ve burned down a long time ago.”

comment to be added to the taglist!

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[nizhspo]

saltwater secrets

chapter seventeen: coastal confessions

genre: haikyuu fic, slow burn

pairing: tooru oikawa x reader

links: m.list, next

you hit the water hard.

not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that it shocks something in you. steals your breath, yanks your limbs apart, drags you straight into the cold.

and then, the ache.

the spark of heat against your spine. the rush through your fingertips. the shift.

you resurface too fast. you gasp, hair in your eyes, blinking through the sting of chlorine and adrenaline and panic.

because you can feel it already.

the tail. the weight of it. the shimmer clinging to your skin. the glow. you shove your hair back. wipe your face. the night air bites at your shoulders.

and oikawa’s just standing there.

on the pool deck. not laughing. not moving. just staring.

you don’t even try to hide it, it’s too late for that. the water sloshes around you, slow and sharp and too loud in the silence.

he blinks.

once.

twice.

then takes a half-step forward. “what—” his voice cracks. he clears his throat. “what is that?”

your heart slams against your ribs. your fingers clutch the edge of the pool like it might ground you. like any of this can be normal. you don’t say anything, because you don’t know what to say.

you’re chest-deep in the water, but your tail’s visible under the surface, orange, glowing faintly in the low light, catching against the ripples like molten fire.

his eyes are still on you, still locked in place, like if he looks away, you might disappear.

“are you—” he starts, then stops. his jaw clenches. “what is this?”

your voice finally comes, raw and small. “can you not, can you just not freak out?”

he stares. you catch the way his throat moves when he swallows. “i’m not—i’m not freaking out,” he says, even though his voice is shaky. “i’m just—” he breaks off, waving a hand helplessly toward the tail, like the sight of it explains everything he can’t say.

you exhale. drop your forehead to the edge of the pool.

“i didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“like what?” his voice goes up again. he gestures, wide and unsure. “you—you have a tail.”

you lift your head, slowly. “yeah. i do.”

“like.. a mermaid tail?”

you blink at him, deadpan. “no, tooru. i’m an eel.”

he snorts. too shocked to hold it in. then immediately covers his mouth like laughing is the wrong response.

you almost smile.

almost.

but the moment doesn’t soften.

he drops into a crouch beside the pool, arms on his knees, and his expression changes again: less disbelief. more curiosity.

“is this—like—always?”

you shake your head. “only when i get wet.”

his eyes flick to the pool. “so this is why you wouldn’t swim.”

you nod.

“and why you bolted that day with the water spill.”

another nod.

he exhales through his nose, sits there in silence. processing.

you wait.

the water starts to feel cold again. your fingers are wrinkled. your heart’s still doing too much.

and then he says your name: quiet, careful.

you look up.

“how long?”

“since winter break.”

he whistles low. “…damn.”

you watch him. watch the way his shoulders are still tense. but his voice is even now. his eyes are focused.

you ask, barely a whisper, “do you think i’m crazy?”

he shakes his head immediately. “no, no. i just think—” he pauses. “—i think i wanna know everything.”

your throat goes tight. “you do?”

he nods.

“not right now,” he adds. “you’re probably freezing.”

you nod.

“but.. soon. yeah. i want to know.”

the pool water shifts. the lights above flicker against the ripples. you wipe your face again, take a breath. pull yourself slowly toward the stairs.

he watches the whole time. quiet. respectful. not turning away, but not leering either.

you get out, towel instantly wrapped around your waist. your legs haven’t shifted back yet. but you sit beside him anyway. both of you barefoot, both of you quiet.

oikawa tosses another log onto the fire. it pops. flares bright.

then he sits back down beside you, not too close, but not far either. just enough.

“so…” he starts gently. “winter break.”

you nod. quiet. “yeah.”

he leans back a little, tilts his head, watching the fire dance. “was it an accident?”

“mmhm,” you hum. “me and yachi were hiking. fell into a tide pool. moon was full. ocean did its thing.”

he blinks. “yachi?”

you nod. “she’s one too.”

“that’s… insane.” he laughs softly. “like. fully insane.”

you smile at the flames. “yeah. welcome to my life.”

he’s silent for a beat, then, “and your tail.. it’s not permanent?”

“only when i get wet,” you say. “so no rain, no showers. can’t cry too hard either, apparently.”

he raises a brow.

you shrug, sheepish. “don’t ask.”

he lets out a slow breath and the fire crackles again. you can feel the heat on your cheeks now. the tension in your shoulders starts to melt.

“and the powers?” he asks, softer. “do you have any?”

you nod once. “i can heat water. make it boil. yachi can manipulate it. like… move it around.”

he whistles low. “damn.”

you turn toward him a little, voice just barely above a whisper. “you’re not scared?”

he turns too. meets your eyes. “no.”

you blink.

he shrugs, mouth twitching. “i mean, i’m not thrilled you’ve been lowkey avoiding me for, like, weeks—”

“i had my reasons.”

“mm. was one of them ‘keeping an oceanic transformation a secret?’”

“…maybe.”

“fair.”

you both smile. the fire keeps crackling and his gaze drops for a second, lashes low. he says, quieter this time, “i really didn’t know you left that night. when i woke up, you were just… gone.”

your heart flinches. just a little. “i know.”

“i thought something happened to you.”

“bokuto told me you asked about me.”

“yeah. kind of freaked out.”

you look down at your hands, fingers curling into the edge of the towel. “i heard what your sister said,” you admit, voice nearly a whisper.

his expression changes: eyes sharp, mouth parting like he wants to speak, to defend, to undo it.

but you cut in, fast.

“look, i’m not asking you to explain anything, okay? i know you don’t owe me that. i know there’s not… anything going on.” your voice catches, barely. “but i think—i think i’m starting to like you.”

you pause, swallow, “and i don’t really know what to do with that.”

he’s quiet for a second. doesn’t deny it. doesn’t pretend he didn’t hear you. then he sighs, eyes dropping to the ground.

“yeah,” he says. “she wasn’t wrong.”

you stay quiet. he keeps going.

“it’s not a secret. i’ve.. i mean, yeah. i’ve had people over. girls. hookups. whatever.” he winces. not from shame exactly—more like he hates saying it to you. “it wasn’t about anything. it never is. it’s just… easy. i guess that sounds shitty, but it’s the truth.”

he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “i’m not proud of it. i just—it was never supposed to matter.” his eyes finally meet yours again. they don’t flinch.

“but then you showed up,” he says, voice a little softer, “and you weren’t trying to impress anyone. not me, not anyone. you just… existed. completely unbothered. like the whole world could spin without you chasing it.”

he lets out a short, almost embarrassed laugh.

“and i don’t know why that hit me the way it did, but it did. you felt like quiet in the middle of all the noise i’m used to.”

he laughs again, dry. “and now here i am, trying to explain my body count to a mermaid in my backyard.”

you snort, but don’t look away.

“i haven’t touched anyone since i met you,” he says quietly. “haven’t even thought about it.” he shrugs. like it’s not a big deal. like it’s everything. “and i don’t know what this is. but if it’s something, i don’t wanna fuck it up.”

you stare at him— for a long time. then you sigh. not angry. not sad. just tired, maybe.

“you’re good with words,” you say quietly.

he blinks.

“i mean that,” you add, curling the towel tighter around you. “you could probably make anything sound like a promise.”

he opens his mouth, but you lift a hand.

“and i’m not saying i don’t believe you. i’m just saying…” you pause. “i’ve never been someone a guy like you slows down for.”

it’s not bitter, not really. just honest in the way things said late at night always are. you glance back at the fire, voice barely above a whisper. “so if you are… i don’t want to blink and miss it.”

he doesn’t speak at first. just looks at you. really looks at you. like he’s memorizing the way your words sit in the air. then, soft: “you won’t.”

he nudges his knee against yours, a small brush. then lets it stay there.

“i’m sorry though,” he adds. “for that. and for how it probably made you feel.”

you nod once, and he nods too. like he knows not to push it.

you sit like that for a while. two kids in the glow of a fireplace, with too many secrets and not enough ways to explain them.

[thicknick19]

Well, I Made Dinner...

Chris Sturniolo Oneshot

February 14th, 11:57 PM

Chris was up to something.

You knew it the second he insisted on cooking dinner tonight—Chris, who burns toast and somehow messes up instant ramen.

But he tried anyway, and now, sitting on the rooftop wrapped in a blanket, a city full of flickering lights below, you had a feeling that this wasn’t just about Valentine’s Day.

He was nervous.

Not in the way he usually was, where he fidgeted just to keep his hands busy, but in a way that felt different.

He kept checking his pocket. Running his fingers over the fabric, shifting every time he thought you weren’t looking.

Finally, you decided to call him out.

“You’re acting weird.”

Chris smirked, tilting his head toward you. “Define weird.”

“You made dinner.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Alright, yeah, fair.” Then, with a slow grin, he turned to face you fully, resting an elbow on his knee.

“Remember when you said you’d only marry me if I learned how to cook?” His voice was playful, light. Then he gestured toward himself. “Well… I made dinner tonight, soooo…”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Chris, that barely counts—”

“Hey. I didn’t burn the kitchen down.” He raised a brow, the smirk still tugging at his lips. “That’s growth.”

You shook your head, still grinning, but then—

Chris exhaled slowly, the teasing fading.

And suddenly, the air shifted.

You blinked. “Chris?”

He swallowed. Looked down at his hands. Then, before you could fully process it, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.

Your breath hitched.

Your entire world stopped.

Chris didn’t speak right away.

He just stared at it for a moment, turning it between his fingers, his jaw tightening. His hands, so steady a second ago, suddenly trembled.

And when he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter. Rougher.

“…I had a whole speech planned.”

Your chest tightened.

“But now that I’m here, I—I don’t know, I can’t…” He stopped, exhaled, and rubbed the back of his neck.

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t.

Because this was Chris.

The Chris who teased you relentlessly, who pretended like emotions weren’t his thing—

And yet, right now?

He was completely unraveling.

His jaw clenched again, but then he lifted his eyes to yours. And suddenly, all the teasing, all the sarcasm—it was gone.

And in its place was something else entirely.

Something raw.

Something undeniable.

“I love you,” he murmured. His voice barely above a whisper now, like it wasn’t enough—like it could never be enough to explain what he felt.

Your throat burned.

Chris took a shaky breath, the smirk long gone.

And then, softer—

Something inside you broke.

And before he could say anything else, you grabbed his face and kissed him.

Hard. Desperate. Everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for.

Chris responded instantly, his hands fisting into your hoodie, pulling you impossibly close, like he was afraid to let go—like he couldn’t.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless.

And then, with tears burning at the edges of your vision, you whispered,

“Yes.”

Chris stared at you.

His lips parted slightly, his whole body still tense—

Like he was waiting.

Like he couldn’t believe it was real.

Then—

“…Yeah?”

You laughed. Nodded.

“Yes, you idiot.”

The words barely left your lips before Chris tackled you back onto the blankets, laughing into your skin as his arms locked around you.

“Holy sh*t,” he murmured again, pressing kisses everywhere. Your cheek, your jaw, your neck. "We’re getting married.”

You rolled your eyes, heart so full it physically hurt. “I’ve been stuck with you.”

Chris grinned against your skin, and when he looked at you again, his eyes were different.

Softer. Shining.

“…Forever?” he murmured.

You smiled.

“For forever.”

And this time, Chris kissed you like he meant it.

Like it wasn’t just a kiss.

Like it was a promise.