#and it frustrates and upsets me whenever I think about it

[zosanniz]

your op favs as common relationship tropes? Like best friends to lovers? Enemies to lovers? Etc?

LOL SURE! I have a lot of op favs :D I also did just general characters a lot of people like so quite a few strawhats will be here, dw guys!

Ace is definitely best friends older brother (+ childhood friends to lovers). I can’t get it outtt of my head like luffy your dumbass best friend but also Ace has been tagging along since yall were kids, you guys grow up together and he’s always been like a supportive rock for you whenever you needed it, and if luffy ever did something stupid to upset you he’d punch his brother and knock some sense into him. Also just love the idea of him being “protective” when guys try to flirt with you, whenever you guys are drinking, etc. but knowing he likes you PLUS not being able to confess because he wants to respect Luffy, and then luffy randomly is just calling you guys a couple and ace is like “excuse me.” “What?” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT.” And that’s how ace eventually decides maybe it’s fine if he asks you out.

Lawwww! The friends to lovers matchmaker crush trope with law is my fav. Law liking an oblivious ass person to the point they try to match him with anyone they find on the street would be amusing for everyone that isn’t law. He continuously tries to get you to knock it off and eventually when he’s driven to the brink he just confesses in a bit of a rage (also probably takes your matchmaking as you not liking him back and trying to give him somebody else because law loves to misinterpret and assume when it comes to you).

Zoro trope that makes me laugh is brothers best friend… or best frenemy in this case. Zoro having feelings for SANJI’S sibling will always be funny. Sanji would be pissed, Zoro doesn’t care. Okay maybe he cared at first and tried to deny it, but eventually decided it would be really funny to piss Sanji was off so he stopped caring about liking you as much.

Luffy with first love trope because you’re definitely his first and only. Also best friends to lovers because there’s no way he ain’t falling in love with his best friend. Childhood friends to lovers as a bonus.

Doffy with can’t live with them, can’t live without them because we all know how toxic that man is. He is extremely frustrating sometimes, especially with his rather controlling nature but you can’t find it in you to leave, because you need him too.

Crocodile I would say secret relationship is HEAVY with this one (+ coworkers to lovers). I guess. There’s just something inherently crocodile about having an affair with your boss.

Hancock is totally enemies to lovers to me. Like fucking despises you at first but like Luffy, you do something that proves your innocent, kind soul, and she falls in love with you. She fell first they fell harder is cute in hindsight, but she’s definitely the one that fell harder.

Nami relationship coach is so real. You’re trying to get better with girls and Nami tries to help you because you’re hopeless, and she ends up wishing you were trying to get better at romance (and sex probably) for her sake. She just ends up realizing she likes you through the experience.

Sanji it’s absolutely he fell first they fell harder idk what to tell you. For obvious reasons, he ends up crushing on you first, but you end up falling really hard for him because despite his perverted schemes, he’s the sweetest guy you ever met. Runaway fiance for the funnies. Love at first sight, duh.

Robin is just a classic friends to lovers. For I really can’t imagine Robin sleeping with anyone or doing anything risky like that. I think she just naturally falls for somebody she’s close to. Different story pre strawhats though I could see that being friends w benefits to lovers, lol. But after meeting Luffy and the others, defo not.

Usopp is also friends to lovers for me because I can’t see Usopp just sleeping randomly with whoever. Love at first sight is kinda heavy here though, he adores you IMMEDIATELY.

Corazon and secret relationship is just so real and I would think nobody would question me on this one. He just wants to protect you. Long distance relationship as well because he’s always out doing shit. He loves you 😢

Kid is so the rich and the poor just hear me OUTTTT. My god, him falling for some “rich priss�� he accidentally pissed off when they first met, and that he continues to purposefully annoy and piss off just to get their attention. So yeah, enemies to lovers core to the max.

Killer is also the rich and the poor but like in a different way. You’re just rather intrigued by him and his travels and fall in love with this sweetie pie. And killer just naturally falls for you as well. Screams into the void I love killer so much.

[monstersofsilence]

help. please and thank you (refined)

typing this up again because I do not like how cluttered the previous one was

straight to the point: I need money for food. we have been scraping by okay but there are days that we don't have certain things to make whatever

whatever amount you give is nothing more than plenty to me. maybe something enough to get a frozen pizza .w.

if you do give me money, I will gladly draw whatever cheracter of yours. fully drawn and colored! the least I can do and to make up the previous times I asked for money but not give anything in return

my paypal link here!

some rules:

- no nsfw

- no mecha (can't draw that .w.)

- no furry (can't draw that either .w.)

- drawing can't be used for nft or cryptocoin or whatever

you can DM me either on here, tumblr, or my discord, pyriteofsilence, the ref of your character. I will draw it!

again, pay however much you can. I do not mind whatsoever as long you all got money left for yourself. I know this is a broken record but I just feel bad if people give me a large amount than what I ask for. I don't ask for much .w.

[epiphainie]

literally struggling writing anything canon related bt bc i just don't see how i can make buck feel reassured and comforted by tommy when tommy left him so unsure by pulling the rug out from under him and constantly dismissed what he says. like anytime i open up the doc for this cock worship fic i wanted to write since october im like i dont want buck to worship tommy. i want buck to be trusted and not get his words scoffed at but thats just not canon tommy. canon tommy repeatedly let his insecurities take priority over buck asking to be together and buck asking clarity about what changed his mind and in my mind it's like i need to write a 50k fixit before i can write this smut fic set slightly in the future

[insert-game]

hate being autistic fr i should simply not speak

[cloudcountry]

i love how i come back to twst post about how much i hate idia for a few days and then leave again it's such a cycle

[my-thirteenth-reason]

kicking my feet and giggling (<- just got apologised to)

[kamitv]

Thinking about Sukuna who...

Hates you (affectionately).

If you expect the king of curses to ever admit his romantic and blissful emotions of love in regards to you, you'd have to (quite literally) be on the verge of death.

He says it a lot too. "I hate you," in place of saying the opposing three words. When you two first got together you found it odd but at some point, you realized that was his idiotic way of saying he loves you.

He'll always have this mean look on his face but sometimes, and only sometimes, you swear you'll find faint little hearts in his eyes when he looks at you. (Then again you might be delusional because look who the hell you're in love with anyway).

Always fucks you like he's mad at you.

Tying you up, choking you, biting you, scratching you-, oh the list goes on with the number of things this man does to you during sex.

He's so mean to you in bed, being sure to stuff you full of his cock(s) for hours on end until you're left completely ruined, and even then most times he doesn't want to stop. The only reason sex ends with him is simply because he pities your lack of stamina.

That, and it annoys him when you're so fucked-out that the sound of his name leaving your lips is barely over a whiney little whisper. Followed by that is usually the frustratingly small pushes you give him, babbling something about it being 'too much', even though your cunt is always saying quite the opposite.

Aside from that, he fucking loves when you're scratching at his back, leaving bright red marks he finds prettier than the dark tattoos decorating the rest of his muscular body. He'll be sure to admire take a look at them the following morning. Then, whenever said scars begin to heal, he'll be sure to remind you to create new ones for him-- he loves them most when they're fresh.

Requires your full undivided attention no matter what.

The moment your name leaves his lips, Sukuna expects every ounce of your attention on him. He doesn't care what you're doing, you're required to be focused on him whenever he requests your attention.

It's almost like he doesn't even 'request' your attention, he commands it. It's in the way he looks at you; the way he'd tip his head into whatever direction you're looking into just so you can understand the seriousness behind his request-- and yes, sometimes he could be saying something pointless like, "You looked foolish running around in the garden like that earlier," To which you'd happily respond to him with both a smile and a chuckle, "You were watching me?" And then he'd feel caught and cover it up with a roll of his eyes, "I always know your whereabouts, human."

Secretly loves having your eyes on his.

Or, he think he hides his love for the eye contact pretty well...

Though, you see right through all of that rather quickly. The way he always tips your chin up so that he can get a full look at your face all the time, tells you to keep looking at him no matter the situation-- he could be balls deep inside you and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head and yet he still expects them to eventually return to him.

Even when he's not looking at you he tells you to keep your eyes on him. It frightens you sometimes when you watch him look at something else and then you try to do the same only to flinch at the sound of his rough tone hitting your ears seconds later with a swift, "Did I say you could stop looking at me?"

Hates to see you upset.

As much as the man thrives in the displeasure of others, you're probably the only living thing that genuinely irks his nerves to see upset.

Even though he finds your little pouts and huffs of frustration as cute as ever, he only finds such expressions enjoyable when he's the cause of them. And even at that point, he doesn't exactly like seeing you mad with him. Sukuna already feels as though you should hate him as is so whenever you're actually mad at him for something (most likely killing someone after you've requested him not to do so) it makes his heart twinge in unfamiliar ways.

That's typically when he'll decide it's a good time to throw you a very rare, yet much appreciated compliment. A simple, "You look pretty today," somehow always distracts you from whatever it is you're mad about. Which makes him smirk-- he finds it endearing how easy it is to please you. (Though, he only finds it so endearing because he knows only he can bring you such joy so simply).

Has a tendency to treat you more like some kinda pet instead of a partner.

He truly doesn't mean to but it happens naturally for a curse who knows little of what it means to love someone.

Stuff like, "Fetch me another water, woman." "Sit." and, "Stay here." is often slipping from his lips without second thought. And no he doesn't mean to make you feel like a pet, it's simply the way he speaks to everyone and you're no exception.

Well, you weren't an exception until you explained that you don't like it when he speaks to you like you're some kind of dog. To which he teased you, "Yet you enjoy my praises?" Naturally, you were confused so your brows twisted up and he went on to elaborate, "When I call you a, or my 'good girl', you always tell me how it arouses you." Then you're sputtering out an embarrassed little, "T-That's different and you know it!" "It is still something I would say to a dog." He deadpans, like he always does when he's speaking to you. Your eyes roll and he smirks within the split second your gaze isn't on his, "Yes, but I'm talking about the other things you say." Folding those large bulky arms of his across his chest as he stands before you, "Ah, so you mean when I command you?" Sukuna asks for clarification. "Yes," You reply simply with your eyes returning to his Again, he acts clueless, "You told me you loved dominant men." "That's not what I-," Your face is met with your palm and you let out a heavy sigh before giving up on your little explanation, "Y'know what, never mind."

He pretends to have no idea what you were trying to express in that conversation but you later notice the difference in the way he talks you.

Knows you have a not-so-secret thing for his thighs.

And how can anyone blame you? He often covers them up, of course, but when you first found out he had such slutty tattoos decorating his upper thigh, you couldn't help but he enamored by them.

Though, when Sukuna caught wind of this, he instructs you to ride those same thighs you find 'slutty' and audibly describe to him in detail what it is you like about his thighs so much. So when you're prettily sitting atop him with little to no clothes, safe for the lingerie set he had made for you, all he can do is stare at you with that cocky ass smile of his, ignoring his aching cock whilst he listens to your whiney descriptions of how attractive you find his tattoos.

Loves bickering with you.

He’ll admit this one. Sukuna can’t get enough of getting on your nerves in a teasing manner.

Flicking your forehead mid conversation just to watch your brows twitch and your face twist up, cutting you off as you’re talking just to watch the way you shut yourself up or sometimes keep talking over him as if to compete with him, and disagrees with most of what you say just because.

“The sky is so beautiful today, ‘Kuna, look!” You once exclaimed as you enjoyed a rather peaceful walk with the curse, your arms wrapped snuggly around one of his. He barely spares the sky a glance before grumbling a response to you, “It looks horrid.” “Sukuna,” You huff in that scolding tone he seems to adore so much. Biting back a smirk, “Woman.” With a little groan, you give his bulky arm a nudge with your head, “Can’t you be serious just this once?” “I am being serious,” Sukuna deadpans before looking down at you and meeting your gaze— feeling proud to find your eyes are already on his. You’ve got this pout on your face now, “What’s so ‘horrid’ about the sky? Hm?” Words are flying past his lips faster than he intends to, almost like second nature as he takes in the features of the only human to have every captured his attention, “It doesn’t look like you.” “I-,” You’re smiling immediately, “What?” “Nothing.” Oh how you adore when he does that — compliment you and then get all shy about it, his eyes darting elsewhere, “Awww, Kuna-“ “I’ll kill you, brat,” Sukuna cuts you off crisply as he tugs you further along the long path you’re headed down. “You love mee,” You reply in a nagging tone, flashing the man the brightest smile you can muster. And of course, he’ll never deny that but he also refuses to say those three words to you so, instead, he’s smirking slightly before responding with an expected command of, “Silence, human.”

Will never admit to being jealous.

Despite it being so obvious— he’ll always deny it when you ask.

He walked in on Uraume showing you how to properly prepare a meal one time and decided to nudge his personal chef out of the way just to show you himself. Muttering something about it being ‘easier’ if he shows you himself.

Sukuna often threatens those who have their eyes on you for any longer than five seconds at a time, even if you’re literally talking to them. And yes, yes he’s counting every second.

Has the most degrading nicknames for you.

“Whore.”

His “cockhungry slut.”

“Needy bi-“ He got hit for trying this one out without your permission.

“Brat.”

“Stupid woman.”

“Foolish human.”

But when he does say something affectionate— it typically consists of; “angel”, “perfect”, “beautiful”, “heaven in his hands”, y’know, the usual.

Finds his emotions only ever confusing him when you're around.

His heart feels strange in his chest when you give him small touches.

He can’t stop his breath from hitching in intimate moments when you’re running your fingertips along his jawline and studying his face closely.

You kissed the tip of his nose one time and whispered something about how handsome he was and Sukuna swears he’s never felt the need to protect and savor something more in his life.

If he were ever to lose you, he’d wreak havoc on the rest of the earth until you’re miraculously reborn, of age, into this world once more. (His words, not mine)

Loves your tits more than any other part of your body.

Sukuna likes playing with them for some odd reason. Like a big baby with a sensory video, flash your tits at the man and he can’t think of anything else aside from the soft flesh he’s toying with in his palms.

And he has two pairs of hands so he makes use of them quite often. Approaching you from behind, grabbing your waist with one set of hands and your breasts with the other— he’ll grope your tits and lean down to your ear to whisper about how soft and perfect you are for him.

Dislikes when you make him speechless.

And you do it often too. Each time he sees you, he only feels his words fading over and over again.

The first time he saw you in a red and black kimono constructed specifically for your figure, he felt all thoughts and words leaving him and the only thing on his body still working properly was his cock(s).

You notice how every time you call the curse ‘handsome’ he goes quiet for a moment longer than normal. He’ll stare at you like you’d said something foreign for a few minutes before muttering something along the lines of, “Stop telling me things I’m already aware of, brat.” But, his face is shaded a different hue of red and his eyes wander elsewhere for just a second.

Has and would kill anyone for you or because of you.

This, you have to scold him about. In the beginning of your relationship with the king of curses, he would dispose of people as if their lives had no true value— all for the sake of you.

You had to beg the man for months straight to let go of that sinful habit of his and almost did. The only difference in his killings now versus then is that you don’t know about them. Or, he trues to make sure you don’t know (he’s not that good at keeping things from you).

Is happiest when you call him certain names.

“My lord” “My king” “‘Kuna” “Handsome” but he’ll never admit to his preference for these nicknames over other ones you may call him.

A/N: lmk if there are any errors — this isn’t proofread!

[delusionisaplace]

"𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪…" 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨

have fun with these :))) | tag me if you use any <333 | send a request if you want more

Getting overly jealous over small interactions.

"So what? You're dating them now?"

Overthinking and overanalyzing every single one of their crushes' actions/words, trying to figure out the intent behind them.

"Do they like me back, or not?"

"I can never figure out what you want from me..."

Constantly trying to confess, but biting their tongue before words come out, just to wonder later what would have happened if they had just said what they meant.

Getting upset over cancelled plans and unanswered texts.

Glances that linger on longer than intended.

Recalling small touches, like brushed hands or a small nudge, and immediately yearning for that warmth again.

"Why don't you get it?"

"Is it not obvious? Am I doing something wrong?"

Feeling mad or annoyed with their crush for not realizing their feelings go deeper than just friendship.

Replaying old memories in their head and wishing to make more.

Feeling unwanted whenever they see their crush giving their time, attention, and affection to someone else.

Trying to subtly touch their crush to hint at their feelings.

The "playful" flirting that they mean with every bit of their heart.

Overcompensating by giving compliments and being extra nice, but feeling frustrated all the same when their crush doesn't seem to notice their efforts.

The constant daydreams about how life would be if they were together.

Avoiding any other romantic pursuit because they're stuck on that one person.

Staring at their crush whenever they laugh or smile and thinking: "I wish I can make this moment last forever."

this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, and i finally found the motivation to finish lmaooo

[asxgard]

Healing | [2/3]

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x pregnant!wife!doctor!f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: Healing comes in stages.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: ayy, this idea came while I was thinking about a one-shot/possible continuation of Heartbeat lol ended up adding this and another part. gender was a coin toss, so don’t be upset with me😊

Word Count: 3.3k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: afab!reader, some angst, foul language, pregnancy, hospital mentions, medical inaccuracies, drug mentions (Langdon), struggling with feelings, vague ptsd, some fluff, pet names (my love, sweetheart)

not beta read

The month that followed the chaos of Pittfest was not an easy one — not only was there damage control, but there was also a hell of a lot of clean up. Both physically and emotionally. You saw the blood on your hands when you closed your eyes, but you kept repeating, “I did everything I could with the resources we had”. That only worked for about a week.

Your temper flared whenever you came to be in Gloria’s company after that, and you could plainly see you were testing her patience. Hospital politics and satisfaction scores meant absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of the ED, and the budget cuts and bare-bones resources meant everything if another mass casualty event rocked Pittsburgh. You had bypassed Michael entirely when you complained about it — which left him frustrated, but more-so over the fact that you were right and Gloria was still playing politics.

While Gloria had clearly stepped up during the tragedy, she was not much help in the aftermath.

In the wake of that shift Michael had worked, you could see it still weighed on him. You hated that you had taken that day off — sure, it had been for a checkup with your OB to check on your bouncing baby boy, but you had been needed. You hated that Michael had only called for you when he started to crack, but that was the man he was. That was the man you had married, fully knowing that fact. You were lucky he called for help at all.

Despite the fact that you were both fighting for better resources and an increase in the ED budget, you both found small comforts at home. Mostly in his touch, but in a handful of new hobbies you began to start to prevent your mind from wandering too close to the horrors you saw daily. Michael took to building your baby’s crib. Then their dresser. And then a wooden rocking horse.

Whatever it took to keep his hands and mind occupied.

Jake warmed back up to Michael sometime between Leah’s funeral and your birthday that month. Jake’s guilt had manifested as disbelief at first, dissolving into anger, and finally acceptance. He had shown up to your house on your birthday with flowers and a smile, asking if Michael was home.

They both talked out on the balcony for a good chunk of the afternoon, coming back inside with smiles and quiet laughs. It made you feel worlds better.

—

“Dr. R squared!” Dana called happily when you and Michael walked in together one morning, calling the attention of all the newer faces. You were happy she had decided to stay, but she had nearly gotten the nurses union up in arms about the violence they faced, which caused a big headache for Gloria. You were thrilled.

Whitaker and Javadi exchanged glances, while Santos let out a surprised laugh.

“I knew it!”

You enjoyed keeping your personal life private, but your marriage to Michael was more of an open secret, anyways. You were professional inside the hospital, so you could see how it took them awhile to catch on.

“Damn, Dana, you ruined my bet. I had another month to go before I thought they’d catch on.” Michael said with a fake frown.

You barked a laugh, “You haven’t exactly been subtle. I win.”

“That’s gotta count as foul play.”

“A bet’s a bet, Michael.”

Since your pregnancy, Michael had hovered more and left more lingering touches on your skin, touching your back when you were helping a patient or passing in the hall.

You noticed Princess and Perlah exchange a few bills, and it was then you were certain a similar bet had taken place in the ED as well. You smirked.

“Wait…wait. You guys are married?” Whitaker asked, looking back at you, face flushing.

“Happily.” Michael supplied, tone low, heavy gaze on the poor kid.

You knew how it looked — a younger woman with a much older man. You were also very obviously pregnant. But you were proud of your marriage, and if it weren’t for the board watching how you interacted together, you would have shouted it from the rooftops.

“...but your last name..?” Javadi whispered out.

“Less confusion with my maiden name, Dana’s just proud of her little nickname,” you told her with a grin. “Plus, the Pitt only has room for one Dr. Robinavitch.”

“Should I take offense to that?” Michael asked with an amused raise of an eyebrow.

You only smirked at him, before moving to put your things behind the charge desk.

“Alright, everyone back to work.” Michael said, following after you to put his bag down. “Residents, I want your reports.”

Michael quickly fell into his role as Chief ED Attending, and you fell into yours, moving to triage as you usually did at the start of your shift. You had a good eye for finding cases that could very easily slip into critical, and you had a knack for clearing away the cases that definitely did not need to be in the ED clogging up chairs. Sniffles, papercuts, and symptoms better suited for their primary care physician rather than the hospital.

Sliding in next to Michael to drop off a tablet, you smirked at him, “So…what’s for dinner tonight?”

Your bet had consisted of who was going to make dinners for the next month and Michael had lost. You were looking forward to not having to worry about that for a month, seeing as typically you and Michael traded off or cooked together.

His eyes still on his computer, he frowned, “I was thinking take-out.”

“Sore loser.”

He smirked, “Thai?”

“How dare you use my cravings against me.” You scoffed with a smile.

He looked at you fondly, eyes going back to the screen, “I’ll even get you ice cream after.”

You huffed, trying to maintain a frown, “I accept only if it’s a cinnamon roll from Grandview.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. Grandview Bakery was wildly out of the way, but you had been craving the sweet treat for days.

“What? It’s for your son, not me.”

Michael grinned and relented, agreeing to your terms.

—

Michael opened up to you about that shift two weeks later, on a quiet evening in. You were attempting to knit a small hat, but one of the rows had gotten uneven forcing you to backtrack. Your feet were in Michael’s lap while he watched a Penguins game, hand absentmindedly running along your leg.

“I think the choice I made with Adamson is still affecting me.” He said, not looking at you.

You glanced up at him, “It was a choice you never should have had to make.”

“Who else?” His brown eyes met yours, filled with a sadness that broke your heart. “Who else could have made it?”

Adamson had been a mentor figure to you as well, but not to the extent he had been for Michael. They had met a handful of years after Michael’s residency at Big Charity in New Orleans, and he had taken him under his wing. He had learned a lot from Adamson in the nearly fifteen years they spent together, while you had only known Adamson for a quarter of that, before he passed.

“It shouldn’t have been you.” You stressed again, putting your knitting aside. “But it was. That little girl ended up living, and Adamson would’ve been proud of you. In fact, if he saw the man you are today, I know he would be.”

Tears came, his face scrunched up and you moved forward to hold him. It was not the hysterical, fully body sobs you had seen in the Peds room after trying to save Leah, but it still burrowed its way into your chest. You curled yourself around his body, pulling him as close as your bump would allow and let him cry.

“I remember all their faces, I remember all of them.” He whispered into your neck, your skin wet from his tears.

Your own tears came, and you held him tighter, feeling heartache for how haunted your husband had become.

It was a reality you faced as well, and while you had never properly learned of a way to deal with it, you frequently found you had it mostly under control. But Pittfest? It had torn through your coping mechanisms like they were paper, leaving zero time to compartmentalize, and left you open and vulnerable by the time you began to process it all.

“I know.” You got out. “I’m here.”

Recognition was the only thing you could give him. Empty promises and sweet words had no place here; you could not placate him with a solution, because you had none to give. You only held him and did not let go, knowing that would be enough. All he needed was an anchor to help him weather the storm in his mind.

Michael moved from your grasp sometime later that evening, having held onto you long after he stopped crying. You had kissed along the parts of him you could reach, the length of his shoulder, the shell of his ear.

His eyes were red when he moved to sit up, still holding you close. He pulled you effortlessly into his lap, resting a hand on your bump and finally looking at you.

“Langdon was stealing benzos.” He told you, voice quiet and raw.

You blinked at him. You had known something had happened with Frank — Michael had taken him under his wing not long after he had started his residency in the Pitt. After the tragedy that had happened at Pittfest, Langdon had gone to rehab, putting his residency on hold.

“He was what?” You searched Michael’s eyes. You figured there was a drug problem if he was opting for rehab, but stealing from the ED? That was a whole other can of worms.

“Santos noticed some irregularities.” He said simply. “He avoided it when I confronted him. Found librium in his locker from Louie.”

“Not just stealing…but stealing from patients?” You asked, nausea rolling around in your gut. You had trusted Frank, helped him whenever possible. You had even hung out with his wife a few times.

Michael nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “I let him leave when I found them…I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t know what I was going to do, I barely had time to think before Pittfest happened and then he was just back. I was still worried about Jake, and everything else, and I let him stay. He was probably fucking high and I let him stay.”

You processed his words slowly. Even in the chaos, you had noticed a palpable shift between Michael and Langdon, a tension that (at the time) you were sure was due to them butting heads over a patient earlier in the shift.

You had trusted him, with your own patients, and it made you sick to think he might have taken advantage of that trust to score drugs.

You swallowed your thoughts, “We needed all hands on deck.”

It was a rationalization and not a very good one.

Michael saw right through it. “I compromised patient care because I was too fucking overwhelmed.”

“So, what? You were going to cause a scene right in the middle of all that shit? Take everyone’s attention away from patient care?” You asked, voice harder, “You were stuck between a rock and a hard place. If any one of the residents or nurses felt he wasn’t making the right decisions, they would’ve told you. Or Abbott. Or me.”

Silence came over you as you held each other’s gaze. He brought a hand to rub across his face, a long breath escaping him. You moved one hand to the back of his head, to fiddle with his hair.

“I told him before I left that he could either go to rehab or I would report my findings to the board.” He said to you after a few minutes.

Going to the board would have effectively ended Langdon’s career. Though, he took that risk when he started stealing from the ED.

“I’m glad he chose rehab.” You admitted quietly.

“Me too.”

It went unspoken that you both had no idea how you would navigate him returning to the Pitt, trust torn to shreds — forcing him to start even below square one. How would he gain back your trust? The care you had shown him? How could you trust him after all of it?

Did you even want to?

You moved your hand to play with Michael’s fingers, eyes on your hands.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about names recently,” you started, only glancing at him while your cheeks heated.

“The world doesn’t need a Michael Jr.”

A quiet laugh rushed through your nose, “Don’t be so self centered.” You looked at him. “I was thinking Adam.”

All the air escaped Michael’s lungs, watching you while water blurred his vision, but he did not cry.

“I like that one a lot.”

Adam Robinavitch.

—

It was easy enough to warm up to the new med students, intern, and year two resident after several shifts together. Though Santos had a habit of rubbing you the wrong way — far too cocky for your liking, frequently taking unnecessary risks without consulting her senior resident or any of the attendings. You felt she was better suited for surgery, lacking the kind of empathy the ED required. But she grew on you. Like a weed.

Javadi reminded you too much of yourself, thrown into the world of medicine at an early age. You were no prodigy, but you started earlier than most had. While she was textbook, you were hands on, and you thought to bring her under your wing — to help her in the areas you knew she needed. She steadily got better at patient interactions under your careful supervision.

You found Whitaker endearing, but he frequently internalized too much of the job. You had learned in passing from Collins that he had taken his first patient death particularly hard — but so had you, and most attendings you knew. He was kind and patient, knew not to linger, and was eager to get his hands dirty, even if he was a little insecure and clumsy at times.

And Mel King? You quickly grew a soft spot for her. She was capable and knowledgeable, and you quickly began to rely on her as you once had with Langdon. You could see her rolling with the punches, but in the quiet moments, you would see her take a moment for herself. It made you think that out of all the newcomers, she would be best suited for the ED. The Pitt needed more attendings who had healthy coping mechanisms rather than the Robinavitch-Abbot Method of Bury Your Feelings Until You Die.

In the latter months of your pregnancy, you leaned more heavily on the residents as Michael became more and more overbearing. With the uptick in violence against staff and no budget to get more security, you could understand the restlessness he had.

Michael would come running even if a patient or family member so much as raised their voice at you, or in your general vicinity. You appreciated your husband being near, but his careful gaze made you feel like you were being watched. You nearly made the decision to switch to nights, but you knew Abbott would not have been much different.

He just would have been more subtle.

You knew he would have been hurt by your decision, especially if you did not run it by him first, so you opted to do the only rational thing: talk to him.

Easier said than done.

You opted to not bring it up during your shift, knowing you did not want your personal life to bleed onto the job any more than it already had.

In the quiet of the car, more of a necessity now with how far along you were (though you missed your walks together), you broached the topic carefully. Michael didn’t need kid gloves, but you knew his concern was coming from a good place, and you did not want him to think you didn’t appreciate it.

“My love,” You started, turning down the R&B station, rubbing anxious circles on your belly.

He hummed simply to let you know you had his attention, moving one hand from the steering wheel to grab ahold of yours.

Hey, you’ve been increasingly overbearing and making me doubt myself as a doctor? No.

Hey, I’ve noticed you hover a lot more recently and it makes me antsy? Better, but no.

You really need to cool it? Definitely not.

“I’ve really appreciated all the concern you’ve shown whenever I have a difficult patient, and I’m grateful you have my back, trust me, but it’s edging on just too much, I think.”

“You’re my wife, I’m always going to worry about you.”

“I’ve been your wife for almost four years, Mike. You were never like this before I was pregnant. I’m not asking for you to not worry about me at all, but I would appreciate it if you relaxed, just a little. It makes me feel like you’re doubting me as a doctor rather than protecting me as your wife.”

He frowned as he digested it.

Did he use to step in before when someone got particularly aggressive? Yes. Was he always there when you needed? Of course. But it had increased tenfold since you first found out you were pregnant.

“I feel like there’s got to be some middle ground here.” You said after he stayed silent.

He pulled the car into the driveway, turning the car off before resting back in his seat. You stared ahead to the bricks of your townhouse.

“After Dana got hit, I realized how easily it could’ve been you had you been working. You would have been dealing with him in triage. I never would have forgiven myself.” He paused to swallow thickly. “And Pittfest…with Jake — it just takes a fucking moment for someone you love to be ripped away from you. With what we do every day, I never wanted you to be at any risk. I figured if I could put myself in the middle…if I could shield you, you would be safe. I never want anything to jeopardize your life or our son’s life. I don’t—I couldn’t—”

You grabbed his hand, processing just how badly that shift had affected him. You knew it would have a lasting impact, but now you understood just how great. Of course he would become more protective after that shift, how had you not put it together sooner?

“I didn’t really think about it like that.” You told him quietly. This was his way of dealing with that shift.

He intertwined your fingers, brushing a thumb over the wedding band you wore to work (your pretty engagement ring sat safe from the grime of your job in a jewelry box, which you wore whenever you were not working). You squeezed his hand, pulling his attention back to your face.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m being overbearing or doubting you. I just can’t lose you.” He told you.

“And you won’t, my love. I’m here.” You brought his hand up to kiss the back of it. “We’re gonna get through this.”

He released a long breath, “Just promise you’ll come to me if you need me.”

It went unsaid that this was his way of promising you the same.

“Promise. Don’t get me wrong, the protective husband thing is really hot. Just perhaps a bit more of a subtle approach would be better.”

He met your eyes with a tiny quirk in his brow, “I can work with that.”

“Through thick and thin, yeah?”

A soft smile formed, “Through thick and thin, sweetheart.”

[ Next ]

want to join any of my tag lists? feel free to shoot me a message!

All Dr. Robby Content: @cherriready @kittenhawkk @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy

Dr. Adamson’s first name is Montgomery (according to a screen grab of the plaque), and well, I couldn’t work with that, so that’s how I settled on Adam lol

Will I be writing something about last night’s episode? Yes, yes I will. (two, possibly three, parts planned already oof who gave me free-will??)

[thargelalia]

Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?” 

“Yes.” 

“…is it something I did?” 

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle at your sharp words. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?” 

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, so I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face. 

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood. 

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side. 

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM. 

A five hour nap. Nice. 

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen. 

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.” 

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him. 

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful. 

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice. 

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter. 

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home. 

Isn’t that so cute? 

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy. 

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.” 

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely. 

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow. 

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes.  “You think I only read fiction?” 

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?” 

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?” 

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital. 

Two, he knows you worry about his safety. 

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home. 

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other. 

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring. 

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. “Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.” 

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.” 

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder. 

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.” 

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement. 

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy. 

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments. 

Especially not to the most precious person of his life. 

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging. 

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul. 

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out. 

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt. 

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace. 

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?” 

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…” 

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.” 

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.” 

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.” 

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.” 

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.” 

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.” 

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well. 

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner. 

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly. 

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

[earthtooz]

x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+ﾟ

in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.

warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.

a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!

“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.

He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.

“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”

The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.

During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong. 

“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”

Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”

“Deadly.”

“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”

“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.

They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?

However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.  

Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”

Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.

“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.

“I’m starting to regret it.” 

“Can’t you at least say it again?”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.” 

“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”

“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind. 

You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.” 

“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”

“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”

“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!” 

“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”

“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”

Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety. 

His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else. 

“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”

You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections. 

But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[lxnarphase]

Screaming, crying, violently shaking the bars on my enclosure for thigh grinding. Please.

i had to let this marinate for a little, this is actually so good i love the idea of just plopping yourself on their lap, straddling their thigh when you want their attention when they're doing something. and you gave me free reign on who to write so i am in heaven with these thoughts. i thought about adding 'who would pretend to not notice' and 'who would make you do it until you squirt' but i think i already got carried away with this little thirst ❤︎

WHO ENCOURAGES IT: g. suguru, n. kento, h. kinji, f. toji

the second you sit on him, his attention snaps to you, inquisitively raising an eyebrow. but once you tell him to focus on what he was doing, he bites his lip as he feels you grinding yourself on his thigh.

suguru's abandoned his show, leaning back on the couch and putting his hands on your waist, guiding you back and forth against his leg. "oh, pretty babyyyy, go on, grind on me. does it feel good?" he's a little upset you aren't facing him, but whenever you turn your head over your shoulder, he coos at you so sweetly. he even brings his hand down to your front, playing with your puffy clit through your soaked underwear. "look at you, your gonna get my leg all wet...tsk, you're gonna lick it up for me after, right?" kento turns a pretty shade of pink, chucking as he shakes his head. he texted you only 2 minutes ago, responding to you pouting and asking when he'd be done with work, he didn't think you'd show up this soon. "have i been neglecting you, honey? mm, i'm sorry, love. you can keep going," he encourages, his hand on your lower back as he looks up at you from his leather desk chair. oh, he could never get tired of his view. if he could, he'd have you sit on his thigh every time he worked in his office, but...he knew that wouldn't work out, he'd never be able to get work done with you sitting all pretty on him like this. "i'll take a break from work, okay? mhm, just for you. now keep going, honey, i want you to feel good." kinji stops everything immediately. "well, hi to you too, cupcake," he whistles, his hands instantly starting to rub up and down your sides. "needy cunt wanted some attention? aww, she needs her kinjiiii, ain't that right, doll?" his hand trails down and smacks your ass before grabbing a handful. his eyes are lidded but filled with excitement. oh, he looooved when you took control of your pleasure and used him to feel good. knowing that you needed him so badly that just grinding on his thigh could make you cum made his ego shoot through the roof. "c'mon, wanna have you soak my thigh before i touch you, baby, lemme see how messy you can get." toji is pleasantly surprised when you come to him with that pretty little pout, cooing his name in just his black sweater. his thin pajama pants can't be that good to grind on, the fabric isn't nearly rough enough, but he can feel how hot and wet you're getting, how sticky your panties are getting. seeing how you're getting frustrated, toji just lifts you up and plops you on his dick. "hey, pretty mama, you strugglin'? mhm, yeah, i knowww. my pants aren't enough for that pussy t' cum, are they?" he helps you move your hips back and forth, lazily smirking up at you. "yeah, that feel better? grindin' on my cock instead? y'so pretty, mama, so so pretty."

WHO CUMS IN THEIR PANTS: g. satoru, k. choso

it's hard not to get turned on from seeing you hovering over him, eyes lidded and filled with need, using their thigh to get yourself off. you just look so fucking gorgeous they can't help but move you off their thigh to their lap.

satoru lets you grind on his thigh for a little bit, kissing all over your neck as he fucking giggles into your skin. when he gets that pretty whine of his name after mouthing your pressure point, he pulls you onto his lap, grinding up into you. "baby, baby, baby, you're so cute, s'fuckin' cute! f-fuck, shit, 'm gonna cum, h-haah, you'd gonna make me cum in my fuckin' jeans, c'mon." he lets out the filthiest moan, laughing deliriously as he cums in his jeans. he barely gives himself a second to breathe before he moves you onto your back on the couch, sliding your panties to the side and pulling out his cock that's still hard and covered in his cum. "tsk-tsk-tsk, little dumplinggg, you made me waste it, 's a baddd girl...now i gotta fuck you 'til it leaks out, m'kay? my cock feels so much better than my thigh, angel, let 'toru into this lil' cunt." choso looks up at you with wide eyes, and you barely get to grind on his thigh before he whines, slowly pulling you towards his lap where his hard dick is pressing against his shorts. "b-babe," he whimpers, finally feeling you grinding against him directly. "y-you, i-i, mmn, i can feel your pussy, y-you're grindin' right on the tip, keep going, p-please?" he's activitly fucking up into you, uncaring that his gym shorts are getting soaked with his precum, eyes rolling back in his head as he keens your name. "pleasepleaseplease, 'm gonna cum, lemme cum, i wanna cum against you like this, please!"

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[k-aemi]

nagi seishiro ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ its not that deep

no warning me thinks, little angst(?), fluff

boyfriend!nagi wouldnt even notice that hes hurting you unintentionally, he wouldnt know how to be a boyfriend, its his first relationship.

youre lying in bed—wrapped in his arms as he plays his games. youre quiet, just scrolling through your photos, at you and nagi. its funny because whenever you took the photos you took ten of them, but when you asked nagi, hed only take one, some of them were even blurry.

"you ever look at these?" holding up the phone so he can see.

"mm... no. i dont like photos of myself." nagi squints, taking a short glance at the photos before returning his attention on his game.

"oh," you say, your lips pressing into a thin line before continuing to scroll. "well, i like to. makes me feel like im part of your life. even when you dont... do much." your chest tightens.

nagi only lets out a hum, its not a yes, not a no. he taps his screen again and you frown. its like he didnt even acknowledge you. you turn his phone face down.

"nagi," you call out his name softly. "when was the last time you said you loved me?" your hands fall on is chest.

he blinks, dumbfounded by your question. his pauses mid-game, before thinking. "i dunno. i thought you already knew."

"thats not the point."

he looks at you—lazy eyes narrowing. "then what is the point?"

you sat up, face serious and eyes lowering. "you never try," your voice raises. "you dont plan dates, you dont say sweet things to me, and you dont notice when im upset unless i say it. i feel like im just here because its easy for you."

nagi slowly sits up too, with a confused expression planted on his face. "that isnt true, youre the only person i let stay like this with me. that means something doesnt it?" he asks genuinely.

"thats not love, just convenience." your chest heavy as you stared at him.

nagis still confused, not understanding the weight of the situation here. "i dont get it, were together. why does it have to be so complicated?" his tone still flat as ever, and it only makes you snap.

"because im not something you can just lie on top of me like a couch and call that love."

silence fills the room with just that, he opens his mouth to say something but nothing ever came. he doesnt know what to do, he was always good with games and goals, not people.

"i didnt mean to make you feel that way."

after that day you didnt want to text him, you wouldnt try if he didnt want to. you waited until he text.

nagi doesnt think nothing of it when you dont bother to text him, he just thinks youre asleep or busy. so hes back to his game.

the next day he still got nothing. you havent posted on your story, or send at least one meme to him. which was weird.

he taps on their last conversation, you left him on read. no message from you. he rereads what he said.

nagi 6:34pm "cool. cya then"

he doesnt see anything wrong, it was a normal response.

nagi on the fourth really thinks about it now. okay maybe you are potentially mad. but about what?

its a hassel to think this hard. did he forget something, say something off? hes scrolling through the old messages and everything looks normal.

your daily "i miss you"s, his lazy response of "same"s. you sending a selfie of yourself, hoping for a "you look pretty" but just a heart reaction and nothing else. hes confused, he always done that, so what changed?

after a week he caves in.

nagi 7:23am "hey"

but there was no reply form you.

two days later with no reply, he texts again.

nagi 1:43am "u good?" "did i do smth?" "tell me."

he just stares at the screen that lit the dark room, delivered. not read.

he doesnt know what to do, youre not responding to him. its quiet in his room. too quiet. and for the first time in a long time, he really cant focus. not on his games, on his phone, anything.

every time he entered in a match hed lose the motivation to just continue, or hed have a losing streak which would make him a bit frustrated.

another couple days later, hes spamming. flat, sort messages, to see if you were still there.

nagi 9:12am "yo" "helloo" "seriously?" "this is annoying." "y arent u saying anything?"

no message, he doesnt send one. he just lies on his bed, pone clutced to his chest, scrolling through old photos of you and him. you smiling, silly faces, and ones of you half asleep.

he misses your voice. he misses you saying things hed never respond to, but always heard. he can only sigh before he closes his eyes.

"if you dont text back soon, i think ill actually go crazy."

its a hassle.

no texts, no calls, no nothing. he doesnt like it, his chest tightens. he just thought of you as moody. but now its like youre gone. he doesnt know what to do, so of course he searches what to do.

"what to do if ur gf ignores u"

top results said: buy her favorite things: "show her youre thinking of her, bring flowers, candy, cute keychains and apologize. communicate with her."

nagi just reads, advice after advice.

"...lame." he sighs, shutting his phone off before putting on his shoes to head out.

hes at your place now. at least carrying five different kinds of snacks you like, your favorite drink, and a cheap bouquet from the grocery store flowers because apparently boyfriends do that.

he looks ridiculous carrying that much stuff in his arms, he doesnt even know how long he stands in front of your door before knocking. he almost walked away twice.

and there you were, hair messy and expression unreadable. you were wearing his hoodie that he had left at your place, way too big on you.

you blink, seeing nagi holding a bunch of...things.

he has to tilt his head to look at you.

"ah. you havent talked to me in weeks. so i brought this." you just stare. the silence is heavy and hes having second thoughts about this.

"... you like these, right?" he mumbles. its still silent.

youre just shocked right now, you didnt even know nagi would take the effort to actually do all this stuff, but considering it took him about two weeks still made you upset.

"i do sei." you give a light smile, face buried in his hoodie.

his eyes widen slightly but wrapping his arms around her slow and firm.

"can you tell me next time?"

"yeah."

"okay," he says. "then ill fix it."

even after that day, he still doesnt understand feelings, but he does understand reactions.

its when youre hanging out with him in his room, laying besides him while he plays games again. you got yourself a new dress and did your makeup the other day and wanted to show him.

"sei look." you showed him the photo of the self-photo selfie you took. "what do you think?!" you say excitedly, you thought you looked really good in this one, like your features were more enhanced with the dress.

he barely glances at it. "looks the same as your other ones." he goes back to his game. he didnt mean it like in a cruel way, he just said it like its a fact.

the second those words leaves his mouth, he can see the way your smile faltered.

"oh. yeah i guess so." you pull your phone back slowly, flipping to the other side. your back facing him now.

he didnt think anything of it at first, he just went back to his game. its been a while since he hasnt heard your voice, usually youre just talking to him about random things you see on the internet or a random story you remembered.

its not until his head perked up from the silent cries and sniffles coming from you. he turns his head to your figure.

"...are you crying?" you only shake your head.

"wait—what did i do..?" he asked with his voice soft, he still didnt even realize what he had done. his chest tightens, the silence was loud. he pauses the game, sitting up with his hand placing on your shoulder, shaking you a bit.

"did i say something wrong?" you wipe your eyes with your sleeves.

"forget it." nagi just stares, its suffocating to see you like this. he thinks hard. was it the photo you were mad about? he didnt know what he had said to make you sad.

he shifts closer to you awkwardly.

"wanna play a game with me?" holding his phone up to your face, only for you to swat his hand away with no response.

"ill let you pick." still nothing. his voice only gets quieter.

"you can have the good controller." still nothing from you. he doesnt know what to do. hes offering games to you, and asking what he did wrong, but youre just not responding.

he limps back on his bed, the bed bounces you and him as he stares at the ceiling. he looks to his side, your back still faces him and he sighs.

he takes his phone out, inches away from his face, completely clueless. he types into the search bar:

"how to be a boyfriend."

he thinks about it before rewording it.

"how to make ur gf not mad anymore"

deleting it once again, finally settling on:

"things boyfriends do in relationships"

and the results are very... overwhelming. dates, compliments, talking. so much talking.

"ask about her day"

"hold her hand"

"hug her out of nowhere"

"tell her shes pretty even if she looks tired."

"...weird." he whispers to himself with a squint.

he scrolls down, reading a few threads, which some of them sound exhausting. he always seemed to notice a common pattern upon them. every single answer had one thing—effort, something the lazy boy very much hated.

without a word he slides an arm around your waist. so casually as if he had always done this. pulling you in close to him while he still reads what to do on his phone with his other hand.

he can feel the way you tensed, but he doesnt say anything.

youre quite confused, hes never done that on his own unless you did it first, so it was surprising for you.

"what...are you doing..?" you tilt your head, but not enough to be met with his eyes.

"hm? nothin'," he says so calmly, as if he didnt just decide to change up his act and finally act like a boyfriend for the first time.

your eyebrows furrowed a bit. "did you want something..?" you face the wall again, theres no way hed do this unless hed want something you thought.

"no." he says bluntly.

"you looked pretty in that photo." he said with barely any emotion, but his voice soft. he settled his phone down to pat your head.

"but i liked the smile you had more when you showed me." he buried his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. your eyes widen, finally turning to him, you felt...like you had butterflies in your stomach for the first time in a while.

when he finally sees your face he gave a light kiss to your cheek.

"next time just say 'that hurt', okay? so i dont have to guess." his face blank again. youre pretty sure that was the first he had ever kissed you without you telling or initiating first.

you just nod slowly, too shy to face him.

nagi is so cute, hope nothing bad happens to him ^///^ I WILL WORK ON REQUESTS NOW SO SORRY

tags ✎: @rinrinniebaby @kaiserpussy

[tiramissyoucake]

I would offer my entire chocolate stash for a Viltrumite Mark ver of them bath blurb

I'll take it, chocolate and tiramisu is a diabolical pairing.

Thank you for rqing!! I added full mask mark because he's a cutie patootie♡ pt. 1 here !! Based off this

Includes: Viltrumite, Full Mask

♡ Threatening him with no more baths together if he doesn't bail out of a fight immediately pt. 2

Viltrum Invincible:

I don't need it. I don't need it... IIII NEEEEEED IIIIIIIT!!!!

At first, he's almost offended by the threat, you think he NEEDS to bathe with you every time? No, no he definitely doesn't need to feel your skin against his in the comfort of bubbles and warmth. Definitely not.

"Fine, be that way...! Bathe alone!" He grits out, but the frustration was clearly placed in the enemy he was facing. You can tell based on how he's starting to move more frantically.

Usually the silver-white uniform remains clean whenever he has to deal with unwelcome guests, but this time? He figured he could get messy at the mention of a bath.

And when he comes back, he's glaring at you like you took away his plate from him mid-meal. "I told you I could handle it." He stomps his way to you, blood squelching under pristine shoes and tugging you in a hug; he always did this after being apart for a while but this time felt... calculated.

Pulling away from you, you immediately complain about whatever grime got on your clothes, he doesn't seem annoyed

"It's just blood, it's fine." He picks you up while disregarding your complaints and tugs you closely, flying out and heading back to your place

Looking down at your filthy clothes makes him happy, you can see him try to fight off the smug grin. "We should bathe together to... 'save water', as you say." He recalled your many complaints about the water bill, he didn't understand fully but he's glad he could use it against you.

Full Mask Invincible:

One of the only variants who actually listen to you, but tries to bargain.

He almost chokes on his own spit the moment the words leave your lips, looking away from the opponent. "What?! Y-you can't just drop that on me now!! (Name)!" He's frantically trying to get you to respond. "I can do this, I swear! Just gimme 5 minutes—"

The complaints die down when you decide to double down and tell him to bail out at once. "But—" "NOW!" And he's flying back with his tail between his legs.

He's okay with putting his ego aside for you, so he didn't have a lot of trouble ditching the pest to come to you, ultimately getting swapped out.

You felt guilty, he tugs off the mask that swallowed his entire head, letting his hair breathe as he looked down shamefully. "... look- I'm really sorry, you know I'm not used to just... giving up." He looked guilty, like he's sad he upset you.

It's only when you kiss his cheek and reassure him that he finally relaxes. "I wasn't serious, I'll take as many baths with you as you want. I'm glad you backed out when you did."

He hugs you close and although his suit was clean, he'd always come home sweaty from all the physical work, and you always smelled so sweet it makes his mouth water.

"So... you don't mind if we go bathe together now?" He didn't hide how eager he was, restraining a smug smile that almost looked shy.

[hsjazebel]

The first fight - A Meant to Be extra

A/n: I knew I had to write their first fight at some point, and here we are! I love exploring the more vulnerable sides of their relationship—because even the best couples have their moments. But at the end of the day, they always find their way back to each other. Hope you all enjoy this one! Let me know what you think!

Summary: Harry and Y/N experience their first real argument, but even in the midst of frustration, love has a way of shining through

Wordcount: 5k

Meant to be | masterlist

———

Y/N had never liked conflict.

She had always been the kind of person to avoid fights whenever possible, to keep the peace, to hold her tongue even when something didn’t sit right. She hated the way her stomach twisted when voices were raised, the way her throat went dry when the air grew tense.

And yet, here she was, standing in the middle of her apartment, her heart pounding as she faced Harry—who, for the first time since she had known him, looked genuinely upset with her.

She could see it in the way his jaw was tight, in the crease between his brows, in the way he kept running a hand through his hair like he was trying to stop himself from saying something he’d regret.

“I don’t understand,” he said, voice low but firm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N folded her arms over her chest, shifting uncomfortably. “Because I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Harry let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Not a big deal,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Right. So you passing out in the middle of class isn’t a big deal to you?”

She flinched.

Charlotte had told him.

She had known it would come out eventually, but she had hoped—stupidly—that maybe she could get away with brushing it off, that maybe she wouldn’t have to explain herself.

But now Harry was standing in front of her, looking equal parts worried and frustrated, and there was no getting out of it.

“I didn’t pass out,” she muttered, staring at the floor. “I just… got a little lightheaded.”

Harry let out a sharp breath. “Jesus, Y/N.” He dragged a hand down his face, his fingers briefly pressing into his temples like he was trying to keep himself calm. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

Her stomach twisted.

She knew why he was upset.

She knew.

But she hated the way his voice sounded—strained, like he was forcing himself to hold back. She hated the way he was looking at her, like she had let him down.

“I didn’t want to make you worry,” she said, voice quieter now.

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Well, that worked out great, didn’t it?”

Y/N inhaled sharply, frustration bubbling in her chest. “I was fine, Harry—”

“You weren’t fine,” he cut her off. “You weren’t eating properly, you weren’t sleeping, you were running yourself into the ground—and you didn’t tell me.”

His voice rose slightly at the end, not quite yelling, but close.

Y/N clenched her jaw, suddenly feeling defensive.

“I didn’t want you to drop everything for me,” she admitted, her voice a little sharper than she intended. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to fix me.”

Harry exhaled, his expression darkening. “Is that really what you think? That I’d only care about you if I thought you needed fixing?”

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly feeling small. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what did you mean?” His voice was still firm, but there was something else in it now—something almost vulnerable. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you don’t trust me enough to let me be there for you.”

That hit her harder than she expected.

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Because maybe—maybe, deep down—that was exactly what it was.

She wasn’t used to leaning on people. She had spent so much of her life convincing herself that she had to handle things on her own, that asking for help meant burdening the people she loved.

And she had done the same thing to Harry.

She had shut him out, not because she didn’t trust him, but because she hadn’t wanted to let herself need him.

Her chest ached.

“Harry…” Her voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before meeting her eyes again. His frustration was still there, but now, it was mixed with something else.

Hurt.

“I just don’t get it,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I thought we were in this together.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, her throat suddenly tight.

“We are,” she whispered.

Harry ran a hand through his curls again, looking at her like he was trying to find the truth in her words.

“Then act like it.” His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was firm. “Because I can’t—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “I can’t be with someone who won’t let me in.”

Something inside her cracked at that.

Because the thought of losing him? Of this—them—falling apart because of her own stubbornness?

It was unbearable.

She stepped forward, hesitating for just a second before reaching for his hand.

He didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was stupid, and stubborn, and I should have told you.” She squeezed his fingers. “I trust you. I do. I just… I’m still learning how to let myself need people.”

Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly as some of the tension drained out of him.

“I just…” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I love you, Y/N. And it scares me—really scares me—that you thought you had to go through this alone.”

Her breath caught.

He had said it before, of course. I love you. In soft whispers, in laughter, in sleepy murmurs against her skin.

But this was different.

This was raw. Real.

Y/N felt her chest tighten, and before she could second-guess it, she tugged him closer, wrapping her arms around him.

Harry exhaled against her hair, his arms immediately coming around her, holding her tightly like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the remnants of their fight still lingering in the air—but underneath it, something stronger.

Something that told her they would be okay.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her heart pounding.

“I love you, too,” she murmured. “And I promise—I’ll try to be better at this.”

Harry searched her face, his green eyes softening.

Then, finally, he nodded.

“Okay.”

Y/N smiled, small but real. “Okay.”

And just like that, they found their way back to each other.

They still had things to talk about—things to figure out.

But for now, she let herself sink into him, his arms wrapped securely around her, his steady heartbeat under her cheek.

Because despite everything—despite the fight, the frustration, the stubbornness—one thing remained true.

They were still meant to be.

[aakeysmash]

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.