#i need fluff content or i’ll die

[edwardashley]

in Shang-Chi when Wong is in the fight club up against the Abomination form he gets thrown against the ropes letting out the most offended diva delivery of „that HURT, Emil! 🙁” but then giving him the tiny water cup to prove he’s not mad before taking his monster boyfriend home 🥰

[yueebby]

how i met your mother  — gojo satoru

contents. fluff, meet ugly, established relationship, highschool!gojo in flashback, gojo just loves his wife and everyone is sick of it

notes. this is apart of my indulge me series but everything can be read as a standalone!

“you forgot to give me a kiss this morning,” your husband pouts from your lap before puckering his lips out, “i’ll need a thousand more to compensate!” 

just a couple meters away from you, paper crinkles harshly as nanami, your fellow colleague, flips the page on the newspaper he’s reading. you hear a heavy sigh leave his lips.  “i missed it when you both hated each other,” he readjusts his glasses with one hand tiredly. he’s disappointed, but not surprised with satoru’s behavior.

this comment causes itadori, who happened to be hanging out in the teacher’s lounge to perk up.

“gojo-sensei and gojo-san hated each other?” he sits up straight on the couch. the pink haired boy looks between you and satoru, who is purring happily as you play with his hair. “i can’t imagine that..” he mumbles quietly. he was, unfortunately, a first hand witness of gojo’s love for you.

the white haired male that was comfortably nestled in your lap looks up at you, “ah! she tried so hard to resist my charms, but this handsome face won in the end!” his loud boast leads you to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand.

“that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” you press your palm harder against his mouth, determined to silence his protests. 

nanami easily ignores his senior’s muffled whines while itadori looks at his sensei in pity. marriage must be tough, he thinks.

you only lift your hand off of his mouth with a shriek when satoru decides to lick your palm. he smirks proudly at himself causing the other two males in the room to grimace at the strange display of affection. 

“darling, you hated me?” his eyes blink up at you innocently, blue eyes on full display. you purse your lips together, resisting whatever game he was playing at. from the moment you stepped into the lounge with him, he insisted on taking his blindfold off. he argues that he has to see you with his own eyes or he’ll die. you argue that he’s dramatic. nonetheless, satoru was cute so you’ll let him get away with it. 

“hate is a strong word– i just didn’t like you very much. we got off on the wrong foot, might i remind you.” 

2005 — year one at tokyo jujutsu tech

meet at 1 chome-1-1 dogenzaka, shibuya city, tokyo

that was written in the letter addressed to you from yaga. the bustling streets of tokyo, filled with the cacophony of hundreds of conversations and the rush of oncoming traffic, were a stark contrast to the serene country life you had enjoyed. 

the sheer mass of people in the street made it nearly impossible for you to spot your teacher and future classmates, but the heavens above must be on your side because you spot a dark uniform in the corner of your eye, similar to the one you’re wearing.

a jujutsu tech uniform! without wasting a second, you weave your way through the crowd to the tall figure. upon closer inspection, you find that it was a boy with snow hair, a juxtaposition to the dark fabric of his uniform.

“excuse me, but are you by any chance from–” you tap on the abnormally tall frame from behind.

“not interested.” he doesn’t spare you a glance before walking away. it takes you a minute to process what had just happened. did he just–? that must have been a figment of your imagination. you feel as though you were shell shocked.

another voice joins the conversation, “oh, gojo, you found her.” it was another guy with a uniform just like the white haired boy and yours. he has notable bangs, you think. 

“did i? she must be a real weakling. i couldn’t even sense her cursed energy,” gojo now turns back to look at you.

a surge of irritation courses through you, your grip on your skirt tightening. this guy must be some spoiled brat that came from a special lineage. you shoot him a sharp glare from the corner of your eyes, only to find out that he too had a sharp gaze on you.

a low whistle comes out of his mouth. 

 “oh,” there is a noticeable change in the tone of his voice. from your peripheral vision, you notice him take off his round sunglasses. “hey.”  you want to laugh.

out of pure pettiness, you recycle his previous comment, “not interested.”

thankfully, another student arrived, this time it was a girl with short brown hair. she waved at you politely, to which you happily smiled. it was nice to know that there were some people left in this world with manners.

soon after her arrival, yaga comes.

“hello, i’m [last name] [first name] from kyoto. please take care of me!” you bow before everyone but gojo or whatever his name is. you come to find out that mr. bangs is actually geto and the pretty girl is ieiri.

“you didn’t tell me she was hot,” gojo not-so-quietly whispers to geto. the hand over his mouth is in vain because you can still hear him clearly. both ieiri and geto make a distasteful face. 

you look around confused. it’s not everyday you receive such a brash compliment, “...thank you?” 

there’s a slightly horrified look on gojo’s face when he realizes that you had heard him, but he recovers quickly, replacing it with a cheshire grin.

“say, have you been to shinjuku? i’m sure a country bumpkin like you wouldn’t know, so allow me to–” 

there’s only so much patience in your body. with a deep breath and your best passive aggressive smile, you utter, “no thanks.” 

he blinks. once. twice. you assume he is not used to rejection with the way he has yet to process it. 

a soft chuckle leaves his mouth, “playing hard to get, i see. i like a challenge.”

“that’s not really the case.”

“one date,” he announces with a playful smirk, raising a single finger in emphasis.

you’re on the verge of shaking your head in rejection, but before you can, yaga intervenes, swiftly and unceremoniously slapping the back of gojo’s head.

“kids these days,” he mutters under his breath while gojo rubs the wound painfully. you snicker.

gojo straightens up when the sound of your laughs reaches his ears. his eyes track the sound waves back to your face, only to be disappointed when he sees that your attention is on geto. 

unlike gojo, geto was trying to salvage what was left of a good first impression. the black haired male smiles awkwardly, leading you away from his strange friend, “so you’re from kyoto? why didn’t you attend the jujutsu tech there?”

from behind you, there’s an incredulous, “eh? and lose a beauty like that to the kyoto guys?” 

you’re nearly certain that a blood vessel is about to pop. but you swallow your frustration, choosing to answer the only sensible boy you’ve met today.

“i’m trying to avoid clan matters, so kyoto is the last place i want to be,” you explain to geto who nods understandingly. 

what you don’t see is the sneaky wink he sends back at a fuming satoru.

2018 — present day

your recollection must not have been accurate, because your husband is sulking by the end of your story. 

“hmph. that’s not how i remember it.” he crosses his arm with a huff.

“how do you remember it? do tell.” you look down at him. there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap.

there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap. “i remembered cherry blossoms falling and more hearts floating around,”

you smack his shoulder.

“be serious!”

he waves his hand in the air to stop your playful attacks, “fine, fine!” 

you know that he’s secretly enjoying the attention.

“well, i’m quite the looker so it was common for girls to constantly gush over me y’know?” he grins. you did not find that amusing, retracting your hands from his hair. he immediately grabs your hand and places it back on his head.

“let me finish!”

you resume your handiwork on his head reluctantly. “go on.”

there’s a content smile on his face, “i thought you were just trying to hit on me! it was only after i took a good look at you, i realized that you were totally hot.”

“i can’t believe i married you.” you roll your eyes, but there is no malice behind the action.

“hah–” his mouth is wide open. “i’m a total catch, ya’ know?!” 

“mhm, yeah. you are a catch toru,” you coo while pinching his cheek and he blushed furiously. 

the two of you are too engrossed with each other to notice the horrified look that has settled on nanami’s face. one peaceful afternoon, he thinks. one peaceful afternoon is all he asks for.

extra notes- 

yuji respects gojo as his teacher, but he still can’t believe that gojo was able to pull you.

there have been multiple occasions where you had forgotten to give satoru a goodmorning kiss, each time he finds you and forces you to actually give him a dozen to compensate. it doesn’t matter if he was on a mission or teaching (he’s annoying like that).

gojo’s the pride of the gojo clan so he was spoiled rotten, hence the reason why he was so sure you were into him.

this is only the start, as your high school years go by, he only falls harder.

[laiiaaa]

CINNAMON SUGAR — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.

length 2k

contents absolutely zero plot, literally just a sweet n cute n sappy moment existing in a vacuum, holy shit so much fluff i might die (got the idea for this while listening to margaret & let the light in by lana del rey n it's realllll obvious), too many kisses to count, this is what he'd be like after intensive therapy i reckon, not proofread so be nice

Carmen opens the door to the bedroom carefully, minding the creaky hinge in the middle of the night. Moonlight peeks through the window, caught at the right time when the city doesn’t block its path into the apartment, giving just enough glow to the room to see you fast asleep in bed. It’s late, he realizes, even later than usual. He needs to work on that.

He makes his way to the bed, stopping at your side to kneel beside you and simply adore you: the curve of your nose, the plush of your lips in that pout you wear only when you’re asleep, the eyelashes laid against your cheeks.

You stir when he presses his lips to your temple, a soft groan pulled from your lips. “…Bear?”

“Yeah, ‘s me, baby.” Even at a whisper, he thinks he’s too loud, and with his rough and tired hand he brushes over the top of your head just light enough to keep you sleepy.

A drowsy hand reaches out from under the covers to smooth over the contours of his face, tracing along shadows made hazy by a few hours’ rest. “You coming to bed soon?”

“Almost,” he murmurs, smoothing a palm up your exposed arm to hold your hand steady. He pulls ever so slightly away from your palm, only to turn to land gentle kisses against its soft skin, worshiping the pieces of you that treat him with more care than he thinks he’s worthy of. “Needa take a shower first, alright? But I’ll be right back.” 

He could’ve done that much by now—could’ve cleaned himself, rid himself of a day's work before seeing you—but truthfully, waiting any longer would’ve driven him mad. He would’ve been itchy in the shower, skin aflame knowing he could’ve felt your touch by then, arms and hands jittering to have your curves beneath them. His lips trail down to your wrist before he turns over your hand to kiss the backs of your fingers.

“Okay,” you answer, muffled by the blankets and pillow and the squeak of the floorboard as Carmen stands back up.

He makes his trip quick and quiet. He brushes his teeth and swipes up a towel while the water heats up, leaving just enough time to hang it on the hook and strip before hopping in. There’s a beat where he closes his eyes and just breathes, clears his mind of the day’s stress, lets warm water saturate his hair and cascade down his back. He lathers his hair with shampoo—the one you bought for him once to free him from the chains of 3-in-1 and that he’s been purchasing ever since to keep you happy—before cleaning the rest of his body, all while thinking about how much better it’d feel, how much more relief he’d get if it were you beside him under the stream instead of just his thoughts. But with the shampoo and soap down the drain goes that idea, much like the fleeting thought of using conditioner. You’ve yet to get to him on that one, especially at a moment like this, when time is of the essence and you’re waiting on him. Maybe another night, when you take your own product and swirl it around his curls; if it gives him an excuse to stay with you just a few minutes more, he’ll do it.

He hops out of the water like it’s acid and wraps the towel around his waist after drying himself to avoid trouble in the morning (you hate when the floor gets wet, and even if it wastes time, he’ll be sure to prevent that). Out goes the light again as he walks into the hall, sneaking back into the bedroom to get dressed into briefs and nothing more—you’ll keep him warm enough under the blankets.

It’s only then—when he peels back those final layers—that he realizes he’s been smiling the whole time.

Once he’s settled into the grooves of the mattress, chest to your back, you’re turning around to curl into his torso, like a magnetic field brought you there. 

“Hey,” he coos, “Y’don’t have to move f’me, yeah? Just sleep, baby.” Moved by your eagerness, his arms curl around you, one along your waist as the other nicely fits comfortably into the space between your neck and shoulder. 

And yet you shift a little more to cast an arm against his chest, his heart beating beneath your palm, head on his shoulder with a leg hooked onto his hip, split halfway between mattress and his body. “ ‘S more comfy this way, Carm.” You sigh and breathe deep into his skin. “You smell good, too.”

He can’t even lie well enough to convince himself his heart doesn’t run a million miles faster when you cozy up to him like this, caught in a space part fatigue and part love, with your hums ringing in his ear. “ ‘S that shampoo you got me a while ago…Sometime this week—” he yawns, and if he weren’t dying to hear your voice a few more times, he’d be a little more thankful for sleep coming so easily— “Sometime this week we can go t’the store, you can pick out another body wash f’me to try, too.”

“Mm, I’d like that.” You smooth your hand from his chest to his neck and shoulder, massaging there gently where he gets sore as a barely-there kiss lands to the skin beneath you. “How was it today?” The restaurant. His headaches. Richie’s mood lately. The flow of the kitchen. The strain in his back.

“Was alright,” he answers, as honestly as he can, soothing himself by brushing a hand up along your spine. “Real busy, so I didn’t get to leave ‘till late, ‘m sorry.”

“ ‘S alright, I stayed in and just relaxed for the night.” You snuggle into him a little deeper, and he thinks he could melt. “I was gonna ask you to bring something home, but it’s a weekend, so I didn’t wanna bother you in a rush.”

“What’d you want?”

From your lips comes a light and airy giggle, milliseconds of the best sounds he’s ever heard. “I just wanted some fries, honestly…didn’t feel like going out.”

“Heh,” he laughs, smiling while his eyes stay glued to the ceiling—as if looking at you would make the moment disappear. “I would’ve picked ‘em up for you, ‘r at least had Fak get ‘em to you.”

You yawn in tandem with the tailend of his thought, so your answer’s a bit softer. “Uh-uh, I like them better when you make ‘em.”

“Yeah? ‘ve I been pampering you too much?” He teases you, adds on a kiss to the top of your head as he squeezes you a bit tighter, but it’s all a ruse to cover up how much faster his pulse is when you say those words, like all the work he’s put in—all the love he has for you—makes its way to the table for not just anyone, but for you, the one person he’s sure matters more than the rest. More than those fucking stars, more than Chef of the Year, more than any critic’s review, more than he can wrap his head around; he feels it in his chest and that’s enough.

“Of course you have,” you agree, peeking up at him and craning your neck to plant your lips to his jaw, savoring it long enough to leave a smirk against his skin. “You’re always so sweet to me, Bear—” one more quick peck just beneath his ear— “love when you cook for me.”

He thinks he could pass out like this, with the last thing he hears being those words, but his fatigue seems to serve as an anesthetic that lets him soak it in for a bit longer, running his free hand through damp curls while a heavy, giddy sigh leaving his lips that lets you know he hears you, that he loves telling you he loves you through his art, that he lives for the smile on your face when he stays home for a few hours longer to make you breakfast. Yet with all the time spent having his shell soften for you, he can’t always find the right words, so he settles for the next best thing: “Y’know, uh…Marcus’s been playing around with recipes…”

He feels you smile against his chest, knowing what’s to come. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, an’ I’d never let ‘im serve ‘em, ‘cause, y’know…” He loses himself for a moment in the lull of your fingertips tracing mindless shapes into his chest. “They don’t fit the menu…but uh, he made these…these rolls today…”

“Mhm? ‘M listening…”

Carmen knew that, of course, from the faint kisses you peppered between breaths. He lets the fan whir through the gaps in his thoughts. “I think you’d like ‘em, he had some classic cinnamon, ‘n…a blueberry lemon goin’…”

“That sounds really good,” you whisper, the syllables lengthened from a shared lack of sleep.

“I know,” he drawls, and he’s a little too proud of himself for once when he adds, “Which is why I said I’d let ‘im fix up the lemon recipe a few more times if he made a batch for you.”

“Did you really?” The dazed smile comes through in your voice, a bubbliness to it that tells him he made the right call. 

He figures that’s why he’s so drawn to you—all the right calls come easy to him, the effort feels natural and unpracticed, unlike the tar that builds in his throat when it comes to so many other people. With you, being good is anything but demanding. “ ‘F course, baby…” 

It turns him to a puddle, the sweetness that drips from your fingertips, so he cradles your wrist carefully in his hand and lifts it to his lips to show it the love it deserves before urging the hand to busy itself with the tufts of hair behind his hear, to which you happily oblige. You twirl a lock around your finger, performing a methodical spiral, and even though he knows by the time it dries it’ll stick out from the mess like a sore thumb, he’d stop breathing before pulling your hand away. It’s soothing, that pattern. It stokes the fire in his gut that makes him feel a little less lonely when you’re not around.

“I brought…” He yawns again, his eyelids growing heavy. “I brought you some of the cinnamon rolls…Sugar liked ‘em…they’re on the counter for you tomorrow mornin'…” He’s not sure whether it’s your doing or the hours of stress endured throughout the day, but he knows this is the most relaxed he’s ever been, laying with you and doing little else other than indulging in your tender touches and shy kisses.

“Thank you, my love,” slips away with breath, sotto voce, as Carmen leaves brief kisses to your hairline. 

And he thanks God for being able to do it even with such an intense fatigue washing over him—at least part of him does, the part that’s still awake—because the movement lets you tilt your head and graze your fingertips by his jaw, bringing his lips kindly to yours for the first and last time tonight. Somewhere in that beautiful tangle there’s a mutual agreement: an unspoken Goodnight, I love you, in the mix, a finality in his offering and your gracious thanks that doesn’t warrant anything more than your head tucked neatly into his neck, left to bask in the comfort of his arms wrapped around you.

Just like any other night with you, he can sleep peacefully with the unconscious push and pull of your bodies intertwined. He knows that by morning, you’ll still be in his arms, in the bed you share, waiting on your good morning kiss from under the covers.

And he’ll still be beneath your warmth, his mind fuzzy and full of tenderness, every part of him dying to marry you.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes satoru uses his technique to tease you, even though he’s the one who always seems to give in first.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ contents! fluff, just satoru being a menace, some smooches! that’s all me thinks! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! he’s been on my mind so often, i’m being attacked with all of these thoughts of him <3

“satoru i swear, put it down!” you whine before you frown up at your ridiculously tall boyfriend, he’s wearing a lopsided grin and you’d take great delight in kissing it off of his stupidly handsome face if you could get passed his even more stupid infinity technique.

“oh? you can ask nicer than that, sweet girl.” gojo goads as he leans over you, deliberately close because he knows you can’t close the distance. he liked teasing you like this, liked seeing the way you would pout and groan whenever he did, he liked the way you wanted to touch him— to kiss him, to love him. so he took great pride in seeing you get a little wound up in your want for it.

“satoru!” you hiss as you push into him again, a little closer than last but still not enough to feel the warm press of his skin against yours. he tilts his head as you call his name, his crystalline gaze narrowing as he scratches at his snowy hair, and you give him another sharp frown before you stomp over to drop yourself on the sofa instead.

“come on~ can’t you just tell your good looking boyfriend you want a kiss, hm? just gotta ask.” gojo hums as he follows you, only needing a few long strides before the cushion next to you is dipping under his weight and he’s letting his arm rest behind you— so close yet so far.

“you’re so annoying.” you huff again as you turn to face away from him, refusing to make eye contact this time because you know he’s wearing one of his more handsome grins, one that you know he does deliberately to lure you in— to make you crave the press of his lips with yours. just so he can take it away so rudely.

“don’t be like that. my lips feel so cold, i’ll die here.” gojo’s pouting now, like it’s not his fault he’s still not gotten his kiss. he lets his head fall and rest back against the couch as he groans, whining about how cruel you’re being, hurting his feelings and rejecting his love like this.

“yeah well so do mine!” you retort back quickly and you feel a vein pop when he chuckles, trying to hide it behind another smirk when you shoot him a sharp look from over your shoulder, inching yourself further away on the couch.

but gojo can only resist your adorable little frown for so long himself.

“hm? then you know what to do, let me hear you..” his words take a lower sort of drawl as he follows you along the space, easing himself into your side until you can finally feel the warm press of his skin— finally releasing his technique enough for him to be able to press kisses along your shoulder blades.

but you’re far too petty to give into him now.

gojo groans when you keep yourself facing away from him, his lips making their way from your shoulders, to your neck, then across your jawline before he’s peppering a few sweet kisses to your cheeks and giving you a soft look from underneath his pretty lashes, “..or are you gonna leave me here to suffer?”

“can i have a kiss, satoru.” you mumble between your lips, giving him an inch when you feel his hands press into the dip of your waist— his touch so warm you can’t help but melt into it as you feel him smile against your skin, smugly you’re sure.

“oh, didn’t hear you, baby. little louder f’ me.” you groan at that, and gojo squeezes you closer— pressing you into his chest as he leaves a soft kiss at the corner of your lips, so close to where you want it, to where he needs it. he’s held out for long enough, he’s pretty satisfied with his teasing now.

“can i please have a kiss, satoru.” you finally give in and he’s on you immediately as he presses his lips to yours, exhaling like he’s been starved of you for months. your lips part and he takes that as an invitation as he pushes his tongue between them, groaning when your own comes to meet him and he already feels lightheaded as he closes his lips to suckle languidly.

another few moments, blissfully dreamy moments with your lips on his— his hands are on your hips now and your fingers are in his hair, pressing deeper into eachother as your mouth moves with his. he pulls away to breathe, as much as it pains him, despite the way hes kiss drunk and flushed— already leaning in for more.

“see? was that so hard? always holding out on me. so mean~”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[verstappen-cult]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL ★ MASTERLIST

╰► SUMMARY:

in which charles leclerc has an embarrassing crush on alex's childhood best friend and everyone meddles.

╰► CONTENT:

this series contains taylor hill as the faceclaim (you can picture her as you’d like!) strangers to friends to lovers, pinning, a little humor, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive content, some cursing, friends meddling, toxic fandoms, alcohol consumption. f1 grid because they need their own warning. no beta reader we die like ferrari’s strategy. some of the chapters will contain little blurbs. i’ll add more as the story progresses!

╰► NOTES:

i’m a little (very!) new to the formula one world and i love being a little delulu, so here i am! the social media aus are something i enjoy so much that i wanted to make this little one. english is not my first language so you’re definitely gonna find mistakes u-u be kind please! hope you enjoy reading this. <3

and if you wanna be added to the taglist, just let me know!

⸻ CHAPTER INDEX:

01. THE BEGINNING

you’ve been friends with alex since you were a kid and after being apart for quite a while both decide that it’s time for you to make an appearance at the paddock. it’s the perfect opportunity to spend some time with your friend and meet new people, and catch the attention of a certain driver in the process. let the meddling begin.

02. THE MEDDLING

it’s the imola gp and everyone’s traveling to italy early, even you, and with a few days to spend relaxing, alex invites you to play golf with him, lily and charles. everything seems to be going well. until it’s not. so, your friends take it upon themselves to make it work out.

03. THE DRAMA

it’s been almost a month since you and charles kissed and things have been going great. until an interview, an ex and a friend make things a little awkward.

04. THE CLIFFHANGER

who said dating was easy? things are getting in the way of yours and charles happiness, so, now it’s time to talk about what’s happening, and see if your relationship can be saved. but charles is not making it easy.

05. THE END

it’s all been leading to this moment. it’s summer break and a lot of things happen.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[saerins]

─── 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 4.7k | content: fluff (i promise), slight insecurities, comfort, 5 times he says yes and 1 time he says no

notes: ok ok so guys !! i know i’ve been posting angst recently so i offer you comfort sae !! <3 this man has my entire heart so i’m just gonna embrace it hehe may or may not have been thinking of ‘daylight’ when i wrote this .

summary: the way sae loves you is beautiful. it’s nothing like you envisioned and something you never knew you needed.

“be my girlfriend, then, idiot.”

he’s handsome, seventeen.

even more handsome when he’s on the field, being the beast you know he is. he dribbles past everyone like they’re robots, like they’re snails. he gets into the penalty area and scores, and everyone in the stand cheers.

if there’s one common knowledge in your high school, it’s that itoshi sae is one of the world’s best soccer players.

maybe it’s no wonder that you’re holding a bag full of gifts for sae for valentines, being assistant manager for your school’s soccer team. it’s astounding how heavy this bag is. but you’ll know that in the end, whatever’s inside will likely get distributed between the entire team anyway, given how sae never accepts a single one.

“is it that time of the year again?” sae sighs, squirting water from his bottle into his mouth, towel hanging around his neck as he walks out of the locker room shirtless, fresh after a shower and hair all damp, sticking to the sides of his face.

still handsome.

“would it kill you to accept at least one of them?”

you expect one of his usual retorts—maybe a yes or a one of them could be poisonous. but instead, he grabs the bag from you, still frowning. “fine then,” he says, opening the bag and peering inside before he turns his gaze back onto you, “which one’s from you?”

the one with the purple post-it attached to sae’s favourite candy bar.

“i didn’t give you any, itoshi,” you lie, keeping your calm and crossing your arms. but sae cocks a brow because he doesn’t believe you. “really!”

“yeah, you sure about that?” sae’s tone takes a surprisingly gentle turn, and you find it hard to get used to. especially when it’s coupled with an amused expression.

“really, i’d die before giving anything to a grump like you.”

sae nods his head like he doesn’t believe you and starts rifling through the contents. he takes something out—a candy bar with a purple post-it attached to it. you can’t escape from him even if you tried.

“you’re the most irritating smart handsome guy i know, i hope you make it to the big leagues, i’ll never get tired of watching you play,” sae reads out loud, monotonously because it’s his way of mocking you. his gaze shifts from the note up to you, and he has his answer by your unwillingness to meet his eyes. “slick.”

“oh, shut up,” you tell him before turning on your heels and walking off.

“you want me so bad.”

“you wish, itoshi sae.”

“hey, take the rest of these away from me,” sae calls after you, referring to the big bag of valentines’ gifts you’d just left him with.

you turn around, walking backwards. “i’m not your girlfriend, itoshi, not my job!”

sae smirks. “be my girlfriend then, idiot.”

taken off guard, you fail to watch where you’re walking and fall over a broom, knocking several of the janitor’s stuff over. sae runs over, straight-faced while he holds his hand out to you.

“damn klutz,” he remarks as he pulls you up on your feet.

you’re thankful sae’s not the kind to make jokes like how he swept you off your feet, but the close proximity is making you giddy, in a good way, and you’re not sure you want to pass up on that.

“so?”

“so what, itoshi? and let me go,” you say, trying to pull away from him. he doesn’t let go though.

“say yes, then i’ll let go,” he tells you, and you can feel his breath fanning your lips and you’re sure he’s having a field day watching you get flustered.

“sure you want me, itoshi sae?” because a part of you finds that hard to believe, with the way he rejects other girls left and right and barely feels any remorse.

but what you don’t know is how different you are to him. if he dare say, special. maybe it’s the way you’ve always seemed like the stubborn kind, the kind of girl that refuses to ask for help but secretly wants to be protected. the kind of girl who can always help herself, but kill him if he thinks you’re someone who wouldn’t mind having someone to lean on.

maybe at some point, he started to want to be that person for you. no matter how many times you scream his name for not complying to schedules, no matter how many times you flip your hair against his face. you have everyone on the soccer team on a leash, and most of all sae.

that’s the first time he tells you—yes, he wants you.

“not even if you bribe me.”

at nineteen, sae’s serious about you.

it’s no secret that he’s devoted—you can feel it. because sae isn’t the type to profess his love every day, no. he’s the kind that shows it through his actions, through the way he automatically carries your shopping for you, through the way he always takes your side in public, through the way he looks at you whenever you’re talking.

you have no doubt about it. it doesn’t even cross your mind that he might stray. yeah, you have your priorities, and he has his. you’ll go after them, and he’ll go after his—there’s no reason why you can’t chase your dreams in parallel.

your parents think otherwise, though.

like some rather typical parents do, they’re sceptical; sae can see it in their eyes. the way they furrow their brows whenever you invite him to chime in during dinner, the way they ask investigative questions—things about his past history that even you never asked him.

“mom!” you’re fed up with their interrogation tactics, shooting a warning glare at your parents.

your mom and dad look at each other in resignation before resuming to quietly eat their dinner. you’re reluctant to leave sae alone at the dinner table with your parents while you help to wash up, but sae tells you he’ll be fine. because he will.

they’re humans. they’re like you, just older and less prettier. why should sae be scared?

as expected, the moment you turn the tap on, your parents jump on him.

“you know, she really likes you,” your mom tells him. “i can’t say the same for you, though.”

sae’s never navigated around conversations with parents. he doesn’t know the first thing about this. he’s just keeping his fingers crossed he doesn’t fuck up.

“you look like someone who has a lot of girls, itoshi,” your father chimes in before sae can speak up. “you have a lot of girls on the side?”

he could not be more wrong.

“none, sir.”

why does this effort feel much more than necessary?

“why y/n?” your mother jumps in, and for the first time tonight, sae spots a genuine curiosity in her eyes.

not the best question to ask someone who doesn’t even remotely talk about their feelings. sae finds himself stumped, but your mother is, fortunately, a nice person deep down.

“just tell me this,” she leans forward, and your father seems to relax a little bit, sinking back against his chair. none of you realise the tap’s turned off. “do you love her?”

that’s… premature, if sae has any say in it. and he thinks it’s criminal that he’s telling your mother before he even tells you, but he knows that not admitting it would likely cause a rift between you and them—not something he wants.

making you miserable? no thank you.

so he nods, “yes, i do.”

“you realise that—”

“sir, let me put it this way: you can’t force me to stay away from her, not even if you bribe me.”

from the kitchen, you smile as you listen. looks like you had nothing to worry about after all.

“they’re nothing compared to you.”

you love seeing sae living his dreams; love having front-row seats to his matches, love catching the fleeting glimpses he gives after he wins.

he’s twenty-one and thriving in the soccer scene, more than ever. world-famous and revered. the two of you are stronger than ever, still, because despite how sae looks, he’s much softer than people think.

when he’s running late from practice, he texts you the moment he can, tells you what’s up. when he has to cancel on you, he makes sure he makes it up to you. if he has soccer obligations on special occasions, he’ll let you know.

it’s funny thinking back to the days when you used to squabble with each other, to the days when everyone was tired of hearing you and sae argue.

not that that should be a problem now anymore—why? simple, because non-disclosure agreements are ass. but a highly recommended thing by his publicist; to protect his image, and then he told you not to take it personally because he’s asking all of sae’s close contacts to sign it too.

which didn’t take long.

it was mostly rin and his parents, and some other guys he used to know back in high school.

oh, and there’s you. apparently, you can’t divulge anything about being in a relationship with itoshi sae. so, as far as the world is concerned, he’s a bachelor.

“it’ll sell better,” was all the explanation his publicist offered.

sae had been against it, because why should he hide you from the world? and it’s stupid. but his publicist is smart, pointing out that you might get harassed online if his loyal fans find out. (to which sae begrudgingly agreed to, for the interim.)

it was fine, up to a point, but you’d never really considered how you’d feel seeing all these headlines of sae possibly being romantically linked with all these socialites and up-and-coming movie stars.

a part of you, the prideful part, is too stuck-up to ask your boyfriend for assurance. mainly because you think it’s stupid. sae constantly texts you when he’s not with you (as much as his schedule allows), and whenever he’s done for the day he goes back home and calls you if he can.

the other part of you, the lovestruck one, is afraid that maybe you can’t measure up to everyone else. that just maybe, you’re worlds apart and you’re not good enough.

usually you’d wait for sae to tell you he’s home, you’d let him rest his mind on the way back, but this time you’re impulsive and you’re dialing his number before you know it.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, picking up after just two rings. even he knows you don’t usually initiate the calls.

“um,” you stutter because you don’t actually know how to tell him you’re calling to ask for assurance. despite having been together for four years, you realise that neither of you have actually sat down and talked about feelings.

“babe, talk to me,” sae urges you, and you can hear him getting off the bus. he must have just reached his apartment complex. he must’ve been tired from an entire day of intensive bootcamp and here you are, calling him with your trivial matters.

“it’s nothing, sae, forget it.”

“wait, what—”

you hang up before he can say anything and quickly text him.

i’m feeling a little sick tonight, just going to rest early.

sae leaves you on read and you think you’ve fended him off.

you did not.

an hour later, he’s at your door, carrying all your favorite convenience store snacks and a worried expression.

“what is it?” he asks you. you’re a little too stunned to speak. sae lets himself in, placing the snacks on your dining table before he really looks at you, surveying your face. “what were you crying about?”

you suddenly feel stupid for thinking your puffy eyes wouldn’t give you away.

sae tips your chin up when you try to look down. “y/n, tell me,” and he sounds only concerned, and the guilt builds up inside you.

so you tell him—you tell him about your intrusive thoughts as he lets you lay against his chest on the couch. you tell him about your insecurities as he sits in silence and listens. you tell him that you think it’s stupid of you to think this and you’re beginning to think you’re an ass for keeping him up so late when he has training tomorrow morning.

but sae doesn’t feel that. not one bit.

“it’s not stupid,” he tells you, and if you’d been able to see his expression, you’d know that he can never look at anyone the same way he looks at you. “all those girls you’re worried about, they’re nothing compared to you.”

“really?” you sniffle, appreciating the fact that even though he’s horrible at talking emotions, he’s trying his best for you.

sae pulls some hair away from your face and you pull back to get a good look at him. “really, stupid.” you laugh and he laughs, and now you’re really feeling stupid because there’s no way sae would ever choose anyone else over you. would never dream of having any other option.

“promise?”

sae sighs, in that lovingly way he does. “yes, i promise,” and he means it—he’s never thought of being with anyone else. “i love you, don’t i?”

you nod, chuckling because yes, yes he does. and yes, you know that more than anyone. even if it has to be kept under wraps for now; there’s no cause for concern.

when you fall asleep on his chest and sae’s too cautious to wake you up, your mother wakes up to take some water and stumbles upon the sight. she greets sae with a nod and a smile, the softest one he’s seen so far.

“my daughter has good taste.”

“that’s a secret.”

sae’s only getting more and more famous as he gets older. a year later and he’s already garnering attention from everyone, with girls lining up to be a possible mrs itoshi.

you’re still unknown; hidden in the crevices, tucked between pieces of signed contracts. you’re dealing with it, it’s fine. it’s going great, only because you’ve learned to get used to it. it was either that or to call everything off, and you don’t want that.

it’s a friday night and sae’s away for another match, this time in london, and you’re watching post-game interviews on your screen while you finish your pack of chips.

they finally get to sae, throwing the normal obligatory questions like how he feels after winning the match, how he feels like being the man of the match. until they start asking personal questions like who he’d like to dedicate his win to.

he dodges the first few easily with vague answers. but then they get even more personal.

“so, itoshi, rumours have it that you’ve been in a long-term relationship now, is that true?”

you freeze up hearing the question, noticing how sae momentarily looks to the right before he rolls his eyes and turns back to the interviewer.

“maybe,” he answers, and you’re surprised. that’s the first time he’s probably not listened to his publicist.

“now who is this lucky lady?”

sae sighs, “that’s a secret.”

his interview ends there as he retreats back into the locker room, your phone vibrating almost immediately after.

one day i’m gonna show you off to everyone.

you smile as you type your response.

sure you want the whole world to know you belong to me?

you expect a retort about how it’s the other way around, but he does one better.

fuck yes.

“you make me lose my goddamn mind.”

you’re both comfortable, twenty-three and lounging in sae’s apartment, curled up in the couch, fingers intertwined and spending a lazy sunday in.

it’s right smack in the middle of his break and you’ve got him to yourself for four entire months. it’s been good, so good.

everyday you’re reminded of why you love him, of why he’s yours. the way he pulls you back against him in the mornings when you wake up. the way he says your name when he’s sleepy, the raspiness in his voice known only to you.

“hey, i’m heading out for a while,” he tells you, slipping on his slides and unlocking the door.

that’s how it usually goes; you’re still not allowed to admit to your relationship, even if sae has hinted at being in a committed relationship. what his publicist considers as minimising risks is that both of you shouldn’t be seen out in public together. that’s why you’re having fun nights out at odd hours and being romantic in private.

sae often just leaves in the middle of the day, some alone time and maybe get some groceries since you can’t let yourself be seen leaving his apartment. it’s not an ideal situation, but you’ll take it. the last thing you want to do is make his life harder.

while he’s gone, you do the chores—make the bed, defrost some chicken breasts, vacuum, maybe wash the laundry. he’s doing his best to learn the right way to do chores (because one time when you asked him to help vacuum he ended up vacuuming the bathroom too), but you find it’s easier if you just do them instead.

usually he comes back by now, takes about a half an hour because his apartment is nestled in the centre of town, surrounded by all the stores and amenities he could need. but you stare at the clock.

it’s been an hour and a half, what’s he up to?

sae doesn’t even respond when you text him. right as you’re about to call him, worried, you hear his keys jangling and the door opening.

you expected to find him carrying a huge bag of groceries with the amount of time he was gone, but he’s empty-handed and you’re starting to think maybe he was hounded by paparazzi.

“did you have trouble with some press?” you ask innocently, mop in your hand.

sae sighs, “fuck no, thank god.” he toes off his slides and tosses his keys on the dining table, taking his cap off and tousling his hair. his pretty pretty reddish brown locks.

“oh, then where’d you go?”

sae smirks at you this time, hiding something behind his back.

“what’re you up to, itoshi?”

he rolls his eyes because you only call him that when you’re afraid. “relax, baby,” he coos, inching closer to you and revealing what he’s holding.

sae’s holding up your keychain; a mini figurine of sae you got from one of the gift shops during his match. but you spot something that wasn’t there before—a key, painted black like the door to his apartment.

“sae?”

“this key’s yours.”

you blink at him, a little stupefied. “sae, did you get lost while trying to find the key copy place?”

sae clicks his tongue, annoyed. “shut up, do you want this or not?” by the way he’s all red, he did get lost.

you take the key from him, suppressing a grin. “aw thanks, now i can let myself in.”

sae sighs again, “i’m asking you to move in, stupid.”

“y-you want me to move in here?”

“yes.”

“like, you want to see my face everytime you wake up and before you go to bed?”

“yeah.”

“you want me to live here with you, together?”

“yes and if you ask anymore i’ll take it back.” because sae’s aware that you’re asking out of disbelief—he loves his alone time yet here he is, asking you to be with him whenever he’s back home. which isn’t that hard to believe for him; you’re the only one he’d ever want to be alone together with.

you giggle, “okay okay, roomie.”

sae only sighs. “you make me lose my goddamn mind.”

“i don’t want this anymore.”

it’s your fault, it’s all your fault.

sae’s publicist is at the house, screaming at the top of his lungs, and by sae’s unamused expression, he’s not having it. he’s just controlling himself so he doesn’t end up getting a lawsuit filed against him for employee abuse.

“who thinks it’s safe to go out wearing their boyfriend’s jersey, which isn’t even for sale yet by the way,” he rants, staring straight at you, “and go down and buy a birthday cake on his birthday and take it up to his apartment, all while knowing that the press is gonna be camping outside the complex?”

he makes you feel stupid.

sae steps in front of you, his broad shoulders the only thing making you feel safe from his publicist’s constant attack. “you yell at my girl one more time and you’re done,” sae threatens, managing to get his publicist to storm out of the house.

apparently, sae had a big endorsement deal all planned with the one stipulation being that he had to appear a bachelor up until the stunt was over. and now his publicist’s mad because that’s all down the drain and his commissions are gone.

“hey, you okay?” sae asks you, gently, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

you’re fine, you’ll get over it. it’s just what his publicist said that gets in your head.

it’s like you’re trying to ruin his deals.

being with a famous pro player comes with some form of caution, you know that right?

she’s just in the fucking way!

weeks pass and it’s not easier to drown out the voices. sae’s good at it, so he’s already moved past it, resumes work as per usual, assumes you’re okay too because of the multitude of times you insisted that you are.

but really? it’s fucking difficult.

if you thought you were insecure before everyone knew about you, it’s ten times worse now. while the majority of people are nice about it, saying wonderful stuff like how the two of you are so sweet and look so good together, there’s still so many people who shit on you.

wait, i thought he was with that model from that one shoot? damn, he got the short end of the stick with his gf lol

lmaooo what a downgrade from that other soccer star he was dating

@itosae you okay, dude? you blind or something?

there’s a lot more than that. a lot. some of them even found your account, messaged you directly and said some less-than-nice things.

you keep it all from sae, though. the last thing you need to do is distract him any further, especially when he has the champions’ league coming up.

“i’m fine, mom,” you say one night when your mother calls to check up on you. “i promise.”

you’re a bad daughter, keeping these from your mother who’s just concerned. she isn’t convinced, but she hangs up anyway afterwards, telling you to rest.

it’s easy for things to spiral when you keep them all to yourself. the voices in your head that belongs to sae’s disgruntled fans growing louder, drowning out the words of affection sae tells you everyday.

until one day you think you can’t take it anymore.

they’re all telling you that you’re not good enough, that you’re just a burden. his publicist is nowhere near your side, instead silently siding with the fans who berate you. sae’s oblivious to it all, you think, because he doesn’t do anything about it.

one day you’re just sitting side by side, watching a movie, sae’s arm around your shoulders, his fingers idly twirling your hair.

“sae, we need to talk.”

like the lover he is, he pauses the movie, adjusting himself to look at you. “yeah, what is it?” he’s smiling at you because he has no idea what’s coming.

and you know, you know if you tell him what you really think that it won’t work, so you put on your best game face. truth be told, you’d been building up to this moment anyway, purposely telling him you’d be busy whenever he’s back from his games just so you won’t spend time together. it was all to give him the illusion that you just weren’t interested anymore, no matter how fucked up that sounds.

“i don’t want this anymore.”

sae furrows his brows. “what? what’s this?”

you sigh, feigning frustration. “this, sae. us. i don’t want this anymore.”

“why not?”

“because i’m tired. i’m tired of dating someone who’s half here and half not, i’m tired of tolerating your stupid habits, i’m tired of being with you, sae.” you’re raising your voice, but sae doesn’t flinch. his expression doesn’t even change. you’re beginning to think you broke him, made him malfunction.

when sae doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“i want to break up.”

sae looks away from you, at the patch of rug on the floor beside him, jaw clenched. he blinks a few times before he looks back at you.

“no.”

now it’s your turn to be confused. “w-what?”

sae tilts his head to the side, concern etched in his expression. “i said no, y/n,” he repeats, sighing. he puts his forefinger under your chin, his thumb caressing the side of your face. “who are you trying to fool?”

“i-i mean what i said, sae.”

you’re in disbelief. you hate how he knows you better than anyone else, maybe better than yourself, and you’re beginning to realise no one can come close to sae for you.

“so you don’t love me anymore? don’t wanna be my girl anymore?” he asks, but it’s redundant because he knows the answers. “i love you, okay? and i’d be a shit boyfriend if i let you go like this.”

you’re speechless, so you don’t say a thing, just sit awkwardly in front of him while for the first time in his life, he resolves to being there for you.

“look, i don’t know what mean things people are saying online, but fuck them,” he tells you.

“sae, it’s not easy,” you sniffle.

“then talk to me, and stop shutting me out, you idiot,” he chastises, and you find yourself falling onto him. “i fired my publicist too, by the way. couldn’t stand him spouting shit about you even after i told him to shut the fuck up.”

you laugh at his exasperation, your chest somehow feeling lighter.

“and, do me a favor? ignore the mean comments, yeah?” sae tells you, softer this time. “i kinda don’t ever wanna lose you, so.” he has his head resting on top of yours, your fingers intertwined and your heart soaring.

until now, you’d thought it’d be easy to drive sae away. you thought if you’d been enough of a nuisance, an eyesore, that he’d just take your word for it and run, that he’d throw a fit and let you leave.

but he doesn’t.

sae stays. and he tells you to stay. because he doesn’t know much about laundry, or how to handle feelings, but what he knows is how to love you. he knows what you need and he knows what you’re thinking, even if he doesn’t necessarily tell you about it.

and sae is a bitch to the world. he’s not the friendliest to fans nor does he care about making friends or enemies.

but to you, he’s everything. he says no to either of you straying and he says yes to whatever you ask except when it doesn’t make sense and you never knew that this was the beauty of being with someone who wants you—in every sense of the word.

there’s a certain threshold to pass before you can see everything clearly. suddenly it’s like the mean voices are faded into the background, and suddenly sae’s love is all you hear, and nothing is blurred because now all you can think about is how even if the world fails you, sae never will.

“hey, sae?”

“mhm?”

“thank you.”

he smiles against your head and you can feel it. “i love you, stupid.”

and you love him; recognising your handwriting and sweeping you off your feet. you love him; braving your parents, living his dreams. you love him; protecting you and showing up at your door. you love him; bashful yearning and unwavering emotions.

so you kiss him in response, and that’s all he needs to know that you’re with him for life.

[hades-in-bloom]

Scars

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: thinking of Leon’s scars (with a little bit of touching).

warnings & contents: fluff; assumed older Leon (more of RE6 and Vendetta, although I keep using ID! to illustrate); could be age gap, could be none; lots of cuddling; mentions of violence (sorta); the reader could be any gender; no mentions of y/n

a/n: a blurb, because I can. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: billie eilish — when the party’s over

***

Leon’s figure was resting on top of the bedsheets, his bare back exposed to one’s curious sight with his features relaxed, while he was catching up on hours of sleep he was deprived of this week; thanks to another one of those excruciating missions. You couldn’t hold back a small smile; he looked so peaceful, lying there with disheveled dirty blonde hair and not a glimpse of worry on his face—something you would die to see more often after everything he has endured.

You were doing your best to stay as quiet as humanly possible so you wouldn’t wake him up when your gaze got drawn to the network of scars, interspersed with moles, scattered across his pale skin. There were a couple of fresh bruises flourishing into purple and yellow blobs, too, adding to a rich picture. You winced like you could feel his pain. You’d never get used to seeing him this way—seeing him hurt.

Your touch was lighter than one of a feather when your fingers slid over one of his scars, tracing its shape slowly, with care. This one seemed to be old, fading away over the years, thus one of the rarest ones—as there were many more those anew, coming in different shapes and shades of pink. It didn’t matter, though, how many of them were on Kennedy’s body—you knew them all, keeping the count.

You pulled your hand away in a swift motion as you felt Leon stir. He was still half-asleep when he opened his eyes a crack, his gaze fixed on your features. You looked guilty.

“Hey,” he muttered hoarsely with a faint smile. He didn’t sound irritated—rather exhausted. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, sweetheart?”

You chuckled softly as you eliminated the distance between the two of you, and then rested your head on the edge of his pillow. His hand immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up.” You pressed your lips against his forehead. You kept your voice barely above the whisper, hoping he’d be able to go back to sleep.

He hummed, “It’s okay,” with his eyes almost shut again, as his mind stayed in the half-place between awakeness and dreams. His thumb caressed your side mindlessly, soothing himself down.

You put your hands on his back in a kind of hug, feeling the bumps of his scars under your fingers.

“You have never told me their stories,” you said quietly, cradling him with your touch.

Leon’s body tensed slightly, his face now hidden in the crook of your neck. His warm and even breathing sent shivers down your spine.

The man became silent for a moment, taking his time before he replied, “I don’t believe these are stories that I should make you listen to.”

He preferred not to bring his work home.

You didn’t insist—you have always respected his choices. You left a kiss on his temple while Leon hugged you tighter.

“I’ll listen to anything you’d be willing to tell me, handsome.”

He smiled; you could feel his lips stretching out on the skin of your neck. It wasn’t a trust issue; Kennedy could tell that much—but he needed time to gather the courage to drag you into his waking nightmare.

“Maybe one day, sweetheart,” Leon sighed deeply, his tone calm as he admitted; his eyes now closed. “Maybe one day.”

You spent the next minutes running fingers through his hair until he drifted back into a blissful sleep.

[loaksky]

— 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆 | 𝒂. 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏

emt!abby x clumsy fem!reader, fluff / angst / smut (mdni!), wc: 8.8k (abby makes me ill).

synopsis: abby’s recuperating from a rocky relationship. tending to you more than once has gotta be fate.

content warnings: language, 18+ content (MDNI!): fingering (abby & reader receiving), oral (abby receiving), standard emotional constipation, non-graphic depictions of injuries / blood. let me know if i miss anything! not proofread well!

tagging those who interacted with my interest post! @eden-nox , @feeeeebbb , @thecowardwrites , @dawn-bunni , @dykefromstatefarm , @kingofcrabs17 , @deadliebalboa , @caitlinisfruity , @matchabxba , @abbysidechick

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

THE FIRST TIME ABBY TENDS TO YOU is an embarrassing circumstance all its own. And not necessarily because you’d hurt yourself, but because of one meddling little sibling in particular.

It’s nearly 2am in the morning, a little brisk outside of the apartment complex, and Abby’s trailing behind her rotation partners up three rickety flights of stairs.

“Seattle EMS!”

The door’s flying open and a frantic girl no older than fifteen is ushering the trio in the apartment.

“It’s my sister,” she says quickly. “She cut her hand with a knife. Won’t stop bleeding.”

Abby’s observing her surroundings, eyes flitting around the space as they file quickly down the hallway, walls neatly littered with polaroids, picture frames, and various other decorations and knickknacks.

As they spill into the living room, Abby’s eyes settle on you, sitting on the coffee table in nothing but an oversized tee and some boyshorts.

There are tiny smears of red across your thighs, right hand applying pressure to your left palm with a wad of paper towels. One look at your face shows draining color and Abby’s setting the duffel on the floor.

“Need her rate and blood pressure,” one of her partners says. “Anderson, can you assess the damage?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Abby says, kneeling in front of you.

She swears she feels a jolt of electricity pass through her nitrile gloves when her fingertips brush your skin. You’re shaky, eyes droopy because you’ve never been great with blood.

“I’m gonna take a look,” Abby says softly, coaxing the paper towels away from you. “That okay?”

You nod, hair falling into your face as she turns your palm over to analyze the wound.

“Sheesh,” she whispers. “What’d you do?”

When you’re silent for a moment, warmth momentarily returning to your cheeks as embarrassment floods your system, Abby’s eyes swing to your younger sister who’s seemingly clocked the considerable tension between you and the hot EMT.

“We were making brownies,” she fills in helpfully. “Big sis was chopping up the nuts.”

One of Abby’s partners chuckles, the one filling out the paperwork, and Abby glances at you again, something niggling in the pit of her stomach when she sees the flustered way you bite your lip.

“Personally not a fan of nuts in my brownies, but that’s a hill I’ll die on.”

Abby’s trying to distract you, take your mind away from a the gnarly gash cut deep in your palm line. It works, she thinks, when you crack a small smile.

“Me neither,” you agree, and it’s the first words you say all night.

Your voice has a sweet rasp, one that makes Abby’s gut twist.

“Guess this means nuts really are a no go,” you say, hissing momentarily when Abby makes start with cleaning your wound.

For a moment she forgets you’re talking about brownies and your little sister’s searing gaze should be confirmation enough, but after gathering all of your important information and spending the next forty-five minutes cleaning you up, Abby’s being stopped in her tracks as they file out of the cramped living room.

Your little sister catches her as the two other techs swing into the third floor hallway.

“My big sis is gay, FYI,” she giggles mischievously. “Like real gay.”

You call her name, absolutely horrified.

Abby can’t help the smile that splits her face.

“Mmm, good to know.”

You’d barely recovered from that moment, still reeling nearly a week later after your failed sleepover party with your little sister that ended in the hottest tech seeing you in the worst condition possible.

And while you thank every force above that Abby hadn’t seemed too perturbed by your sibling’s antics, it’s still something that makes you rub the heel of your palms into your eyes and kick your feet in annoyance before bed.

But just when you think you’re finally getting over it, you cross paths again.

Fate has a cruel way of flexing its humor because you’re turning an especially crowded corner in the freezer section of Whole Foods when your toe catches the corner display.

“Shit!” you hiss, basket clattering to the floor.

Your jar of extra garlic-y marinara is rolling away and a few of your lemons are scattering between avoidant feet.

“Hey, you alright?”

And you’ve heard that voice before, familiar hum haunting your dreams for the past week and a half.

You look up just as the body associated with the voice crouches in front of you, pasta sauce in one hand and trio of lemons in the other.

Of course it’s Abby in all of her glory. Her hair is loosened from her braid, falling over her broad shoulders as she searches your face. She’s in her work polo, few buttons undone and belt somewhat loosened.

Something akin to recognition flashes over her features as she takes you in.

“Thanks,” you whisper when she rights your basket and carefully sets the runaway items inside.

“You’re always hurting yourself,” she teases, standing to her full height before offering her hand out to you.

For a moment you were caught up, so engrossed in seeing Abby again like a direct manifestation of your very fears (and a wet dream or two), that you hadn’t noticed that people were staring.

Your face is hot as your fingers brush her palm and she’s hoisting you up like you weigh nothing. When you shift your weight to the foot you’d tripped on, your face screws up in discomfort.

Abby’s scarily perceptive, equal parts because it comes with the job even when she’s off duty, and also because it’s you. She doesn’t know what’s so different about you, especially because she hasn’t bat an eye at another girl in the past seven months since her previous break-up, but she can’t take her eyes off of you. She’s certain her pupils are blown wide by now.

“Does it hurt?” she asks, steadying you with warm hands.

Abby has to force herself to glance up at you when she happens to notice the way your chest hitches, pendant on the dainty chain that rests between the divot of your collarbones glinting under the fluorescents.

“A little,” you admit.

Abby doesn’t hesitate to take your basket alongside hers and offers you a perfectly sculpted arm.

God you could actually combust, not only because you’re beyond embarrassed but because Abby’s too fucking hot for her own good.

“Easy,” she tells you as you move through the aisles slowly.

She’s guiding you to a quiet corner in the foodcourt, setting you gently against the bench before plopping down next to you.

Your lips part to thank her, tell her that you’ll just rest here for a moment before going about your day, but she’s lifting your leg into her lap and undoing the strap of your sandal wordlessly.

“Oh—”

Her gaze swings to yours.

“Gotta get a better look,” she tells you with an easy smile, fingers gentle around your ankle.

She starts rolling, testing your range of motion. When your expression pinches, she’s rummaging through her basket, only to produce a frozen bag of peas a few moments later.

“Doesn’t look like any bruising is forming and you’ve got your full range of motion,” she observes. “Just a rolled ankle. Nothing some ice won’t fix.”

You stare at her unblinking, nodding stupidly as she applies a slight amount of pressure with the frozen vegetables.

“I, ah—” you let out a low hiss and Abby shouldn’t lick her lips, but her mouth’s dry and the skin of your legs are like butter. “I think I’ll be okay.”

The concern that shades Abby’s features makes you squirm on the bench, ankle still propped in her lap.

“Did you drive?” Abby presses, and she knows that this is a bad idea.

The two of you could be on your way, paths officially untangling, but something inside of her is compelled, tugged hard at the sight of you.

“No…” you trail off sheepishly. “I walked.”

Abby’s lips part, words escaping her before she can stop and think twice.

“I’ll walk you home,” she offers.

“Oh, Abby, you don’t have to do that,” you say gently.

It’s like someone squeezes the air from her lungs at the sound of her name leaving your lips in a rasped hum, makes her wet her lips again because her mouth’s gone dry.

“You’re probably really busy, I don’t want to be a bother,” you add with a soft smile.

“You wouldn’t be,” she assures you. “Just wanna make sure you make it home safe.”

And it’s such a sweet sentiment, one that makes warmth bloom in your chest and your tummy. But there’s a dull ache, a squeeze that makes your thighs involuntarily press together. It’s barely perceptible and you hope to whatever’s in the universe that Abby’s not keen when it comes to body language.

The planes of her face are serious, bump on the bridge of her nose pronounced as you watch the set of her jaw. Fuck, did you want her bad, feel embarrassment creeping because if anyone nearby could intercept your brain, they’d find a slew of less than appropriate thoughts accompanying the more tame.

Without another word, Abby’s hooking your sandal back on, patting your shin gently before setting you right and gathering the combination of your groceries and hers.

You make a move to follow her, but she levels you with a warning glare.

“Stay put,” she urges. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But, Abby—” you splutter.

Your name is stern on her lips and another dull ache ebbs as she stands over you in her uniform, muscles stretching the fabric taut.

She’s off a moment later and after what seems like an eternity waiting almost helplessly, Abby returns with a few paper bags. She’s stuffing the receipt in her pocket and your expression shifts, lips pursing.

“How much do I owe you?” you ask as soon as she offers her elbow to you.

“Don’t worry about it,” she quips, body tensing in the slightest as she acclimates all over again to the feeling of you clinging to her. “Now let’s get you home.”

“Abby!” you whine, drawing her name out petulantly.

It’s so domestic, all of it. Carrying your groceries with your arms looped through hers and the two of you strolling down the sidewalk to accommodate your hurt foot.

“What?” she mocks, and you can’t help but smile.

“You’ll be late for work,” you say softly, unable to stop the passing observation of how sturdy she feels against you.

“I’m off.”

And something like relief, excitement, jolts at the thought. Makes you hush the rest of the way to your apartment building like the courage is still brewing.

The middle-aged woman that sits at her desk in the lobby and plays Candy Crush half of shift pauses to spare the two of you a passing glance as you walk in, eyebrows raising and lips twitching.

“Afternoon, Marianne,” you greet sheepishly.

“Good afternoon,” she parrots, rolling her lips to hide the amused grin threatening to spread.

Abby is none-the-wiser as her eyes flit around the lobby in search for the elevators.

The ride up ends up being shrouded in total silence save for the whirring of the lift’s gears and your shallow breaths. For a moment, Abby wonders if she’s overstepped. If she’s made you uncomfortable and read all the signs wrong.

As the two of you approach your door, the very one her and her coworkers had banged on a little over a week ago, she’s trying to come up with the words to apologize, tell you that she really just wanted to make sure you were okay.

(Even though she’ll only ever admit to herself that perhaps part of it was self-indulgent and the softness of your skin was like a high).

But you’re beating her to it, untangling to shift your weight to your uninjured foot and turning to face her.

“Do you…” You swallow and blink once, then twice, gathering the rest of your courage. “Do you wanna come in?”

Oh— Abby hadn’t been expecting that. She’d been expecting you to fumble with your groceries and close the door in her face for good. But now you’re looking up at her through thick lashes and a shy grin and all she can think to herself in this moment is that she’s a goner.

“I’m making dinner,” you add. “If you’d like to stay.”

Another slice of domesticity that has Abby’s wires crossing.

“Sure,” she agrees easily, and it takes everything inside of her not to teem with too much excitement when you turn to slot your key into the lock and the door springs open.

Your apartment is just how she remembers it from the little details she’d picked up the last time she was here. That same scent of lemons and what she thinks could be incense. Though it’d felt a little out of line, unprofessional to be too engrossed in her surroundings the first time, especially when her eyes caught a particularly suggestive photo among the wall hosting polaroids.

You’re with a group of girl friends, bent over in a too short skirt so that the swell of your ass is pressed to the girl in the center’s front. The shot gives a perfect eyeful of your cleavage in a tiny little triangle bikini top and the cherry on top is the pair of red cat-eye glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose as you wink at whoever is behind the camera.

You pause at the end of the hallway when you notice Abby’s no longer close behind.

“Looks like somebody knows how to have a good time,” she observes jokingly, but her cheeks are so incredibly warm because christ you’re beautiful.

You’re sheepish.

“Definitely retired from that life,” you tell her, and she notes that the neat sharpie dates back nearly six summers ago. “Now I like to bake with my little sister and injure myself.”

Abby can’t help the smile when you start gazing at all the other polaroids tacked into a heart formation on the crisp white walls.

“You seem like the life of the party,” Abby says, eyes lingering on another polaroid of you in what seems to be a dorm room with a joint pinched between your fingers, sporting a feather boa, a paper crown that says ‘birthday girl’ and those same red sunglasses.

You huff out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t say that...”

She wonders if she’ll see that side of you. So far you seem so quiet, reserved. It makes her want to peel away the layers and learn you.

The thought makes her blink hard.

“Kitchen’s this way,” you say after a few moments pass, turning on your heel to pad down the hall and swing left.

Light pours from where you flip the switch to the kitchen’s fluorescents.

Abby finds that the living room and kitchen is far tidier than the last time she’d been here, obviously cleaned after the entire baking debacle with your little sister.

My big sis is gay, like real gay. The words were like a subtle push. One that made Abby weigh the potential.

She’s setting the paper bags on the counter, making a move to go through the bags to help you put the groceries away, but your hands close over hers, slightly smaller and warm as you halt her movements.

“You’ve done enough for me,” you say, smile crooked. “Make yourself at home.”

And the household phrase is so cliche, but makes a split second reel of what making herself fully at home entails. She’d never admit it out loud, but part of it is bending you over the kitchen island.

She swallows the lump in her throat as you limp around the kitchen.

“You should rest your foot,” she says.

Your smile widens.

“I’m okay,” you assure her.

She leans against the counter, watching as you file everything in its rightful place. The muscles in her face involuntarily twitch when you stand up on your tip toes to throw a box of cereal on top of the fridge.

Your ass looks absolutely edible in your jeans and the low cut of your top shows the way your shoulder blades contract.

Definitely doesn’t help her blooming kitchen fantasies.

“You want something to drink?” you offer.

“Just water, please,” Abby clears her throat, gaze snapping up to meet the gaze you throw over your shoulder.

And she has to use the cute little glass you give her as a lifeline, nearly crushing the frosted green glass to bits multiple times over the course of you prepping dinner and the actual thing.

Because not only are you wickedly witty in a way that’s easily overlooked, but you’re phenomenal in the kitchen. Nearly drools watching you cut through your produce while chattering happily about growing up on the west coast and your college years.

You work through the building heat to set a painted ceramic dish piled high with pasta that Abby absolutely devours with nearly as much fervor as she likes to think she would you.

“Good?” you ask hopefully, leaning forward on your elbows.

“Better than good,” Abby says eagerly. “Great, fantastic.”

“Yay,” you cheer pure-heartedly and she could melt. Especially when she polishes off the plate and you sit up straight. “More?”

She easily agrees just for the sake of watching you.

“You should, uh—” You scratch the back of your neck nervously as she continues eating. “You should stop by again. If you, y’know, wanna…I cook a lot and there’s usually a lot left over.”

Abby could scream in excitement. She’s one intrusive thought away from reaching over the island to squish your cheeks and tell you that there’s literally nothing else in the world she’d wanna do than to see you again. Instead she forces her composure with an easy smile.

“I’d really like that.”

And the way she sits back in her seat, legs obviously spreading under the surface to stretch has you wiggling uncomfortably. The last few buttons of her polo have come undone, exposing a freckled expanse of skin that you’d love to sink your teeth into, and somehow, sometime while your back had been turned, she’d opted for undoing the rest of her loosening braid to throw it into a topknot.

The tension is palpable, thick enough to choke, and at times, as the two of you chat over the kitchen island, it has you stumbling over your words.

Even more so when you walk her to the door at half past ten. She’s leaning against the doorframe like she doesn’t want to leave, and truthfully, you don’t want her to. Want to spend as much time as you can caught up.

“I’ll call you?” you bite the bullet despite the tremor in your fingertips.

Abby nods, arm banded around her paper bag of groceries, a tupperware of leftovers nestled on the top.

“Yeah, please,” she hums.

And there’s one final moment of tension that clings between the two of you as she kicks off the doorframe and you close the door, back pressed against the wood.

After that night, the lines you dance blur impossibly. Always a will she, won’t she that seems to equally frustrate the two of you for vastly different reasons unbeknownst to the other.

You because you can’t get a read on Abby, always teetering over a steep edge trying to get her to bite your advances. But you know, know that there’s something there. Abby because she’s given more and more reason to fall into you with every passing moment, but can’t seem to take the plunge, entirely too freshly single to think about another commitment that could fail and leave her already mending heart beyond repair.

And she knows it isn’t fair, especially when the tension both romantic and sexual is absolutely brimming. You’re nothing like the partners she’s been with before, especially not her last girlfriend who was practically your polar opposite. You were gentle, sweet, funny. Good at practically anything you could get your hands on.

But something stalls her, keeps her from diving headfirst despite late nights laying on your living room floor talking about things both minute and infinite, cooking with you in the snugness of your tiny kitchen, even inviting you to outings with friends and vice versa.

So you take the plunge instead, one Saturday evening weeks after your first meeting, after spending long swathes of time tangled in each other’s presence.

You’re at a bar with her and her friends, slight buzz giving you the smallest nudge of confidence to cling to her arm. And god does Abby look good tonight, especially so, in a dark button up and fitted pants. She’s got her hair down, tickles your cheek when you nuzzle against her shoulder.

Her friends’ eyes are inquisitive, curious because touches between the two of you rarely linger for longer than a few moments, but you’ve been glued to her side all night. She doesn’t say anything though, doesn’t shrug you off, even wraps an arm around your shoulder when you return from the restroom.

So with a few more drinks and a little more liquid courage, you’re toeing a little over the line. You’ve pushed her hair over her shoulders, pressing your lips experimentally to the skin behind her ear. It’s a sensation that has her freezing up almost imperceptibly, but you can tell with the way her muscles grow taut under your fingers.

“What’re you doing, angel?” Abby asks quietly, span of her large palm gripping your thigh.

“Nothin’,” you hum, nose bumping her ear.

She breathes out a hollow laugh, tries to turn her attention to her friends who are obviously trying to ignore your displays of affection. But then your lips are brushing with more force against her collar and she’s sliding out of the stuffy booth to get some air.

Her resolve is obviously crumbling, even more so when she stands at the bar waiting for the next round of drinks and your arm bands around her waist, the other flattening below her belly button. When your pinkie slides beneath her belt buckle, she’s pushing off the counter.

And for a moment you think you’ve upset her when she gathers all the stout glasses and winds through the crowd to return to the booth you’d previously occupied.

You barely make it to the back of the bar when she’s emerging from the bodies and grabbing you roughly by the bicep.

“Abby—”

Her lips are slotting yours before you can apologize, and she tastes like cherries and liquor. Her arms wind around your waist, one hand on the small of your back, the other grabbing a handful of your ass.

“Abs,” you whisper breathlessly, unable to feel any embarrassment for taking up a high traffic aisle as she bites your bottom lip.

“Your place or mine?” she asks, voice gravelly. “Because you started something that I’m gonna need you to finish, princess.”

And your knees are jelly the entire trek to your apartment, insides liquid and tummy fluttering because a warmth has begun to pool in your panties. The way Abby can’t keep her hands off you through the elevator ride up makes it all the worse.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease, y’know that?” she hisses in your ear as you miss the keyhole a few times. “For the last six weeks all you’ve done is toy with me and—”

Her breath hitches when she presses her front to your back and slides her hand up the skirt of your backless sundress to feel the stickiness forming between the plush of your thighs.

When you finally force the door open, Abby’s kicking off her shoes and her fingers are making work of her top buttons. You’re quick to swivel on your heel, shoving her roughly against the front door to push up on your tiptoes and pepper kisses over the curve of her jaw.

“Me?” you huff petulantly, an uncharacteristic gleam in your eye as your fingers are deft on her belt buckle. You unbutton her dress pants. “You waltz in here all the time looking so…so…fuckable.”

Abby nearly chokes on her breath.

“And you try to play coy, but I see right through you, Abby,” you say in such a gooey tone. She throws her head back and moans. “I see the way you look at me. The little things you do. You’re not subtle Anderson.”

And that’s new. Calling her by her last name.

Your hand’s down the front of her pants, under her boxers and you feel it. How wet she is. Feel the slick between her folds as you circle her clit.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathes, lips parted as she takes the sight of you in.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you sigh, biting your bottom lip as you stare up at her.

She nods eagerly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hum.

Her hands come up to cup your cheeks, leaning down to steal a few kisses before her hand’s wrapping around your wrist and pulling you from her heat.

“Open,” she barks, guiding your fingers to your lips.

You do so without argument, the taste of Abby making your eyes hood.

You make a noise in the back of your throat, and Abby’s walking you back towards your bedroom.

“You wanna make me feel good?” she asks, back of her knees hitting the edge of your mattress. She’s got you situated between her legs, shucking off her top and shimmying her trousers and boxers off in one go. “Then get to work.”

She’s spreading her legs, gaze locked as you lower until you’re eye level with her cunt. The pale moonlight that filters the window making it absolutely glisten.

You’re kissing the skin of her inner thighs, hands on her knees as you glance up at her, only find her with her bottom lip tucked harshly between pearly teeth.

“Want you bad,” you admit breathily, biting the taut skin before laving at it with the flat of your tongue.

All you receive is a shaky breath, seemingly knocking the words straight from her lips.

“Nothing?” you taunt, biting the other side.

Abby’s opening her mouth to say something snarky, but your lips are on her clit and your middle finger’s sliding in with ease.

“Jesus, fuck,” she whispers breathlessly.

And you’re smug as you eat her out, vibration of your moans rumbling through her core when she threads her fingers through your hair and tugs ‘til the tension in your scalp stings deliciously.

“Shitshitshit,” she chokes when you add another finger.

Under normal circumstances, she’d be embarrassed when her body locks up and her legs shake after what seems like only mere moments, but after she comes down and the fog clears, she’s wiping that smirk off your pretty face.

The sight is one to see, Abby leaned against your headboard with your back plastered to her front. The skirt of your dress is scrunched around your waist, flimsy straps knocked from your shoulders.

She’s merciless, thick fingers plugging you full.

“Ah, Abby,” you hiss, hand wrapping around her wrist.

“Can’t get over how tight you are.” She bites your earlobe. “You can barely take two.”

As testament, she stuffs you deeper. The squelch is downright filthy, your arousal pooling down your slit and onto the sheets. For a moment Abby’s pulling her digits from your heat, spreading her fingers in front of your face to show you the stringy strands of clear that web her knuckles.

“See that, princess? See how wet you are?” she teases, other hand taking a palmful of your tits while her mouth maps each blemish and mark with kisses across your shoulders and neck.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” she husks. “Wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You throw your head back, chest heaving as her fingers curl inside the spongy walls of your cunt and applies such a toe-curling pressure against the spot that has you seeing stars. It makes your back arch, knees twitching against the legs that Abby uses to keep your thighs spread.

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?” she whispers, blowing air against the shell of your ear as her ministrations grow sloppy.

You nod quickly, body tensing.

“M’gonna fuckin’ cum,” you whimper, “Please, Abs, don’t stop. I’m—”

Abby could cum all over again when your chest pushes forward into her hold, head lolling back against her shoulder as you let out a pitched whine that sounds a lot like her name.

“Fuck!” you swallow, falling slack against her sticky skin as you gush.

Her other hand drops to your clit, lazy circles making your pussy clench around the fingers still stuffed inside.

“That’s right, princess,” she huffs. “Cream all over my fingers.”

Your breaths stutter, pussy clenching as you let out a needy little moan.

“So good,” she praises. “Such a good girl.”

And you’re absolutely boneless, head knocking gently against hers as you push further into her chest. You feel her weight shift as she reaches, then the gentle feeling of her cleaning you up despite sleepy overstimulated protests.

It’s warm in your room as Abby slinks down the pillows and pulls the covers up. Her chin rests on top of your head as you cozy up to her, mumbling about how much you like her and how you’ve waited for such a moment.

You don’t remember the last thing you say before you doze off.

Abby does, though.

It keeps her up the entire night. Has her eyes blown wide as she stares up at the ceiling and the weight of the evening dawns on her.

Always wanna be with you. You’re my person.

And she doesn’t know how it’d gotten to this point. How did she let herself get so entangled with you? She’d always been aware that there’d been something there, that she was crushing and was almost a hundred percent sure you reciprocated, but this was far more than she’d anticipated.

It’s a step away from the ‘l’ word, and she’s not so sure it’s something she’s willing to fall into.

So Abby does what she does when she’s scared and she’s running. She’s replacing herself with your pillow as the sun comes up, heart squeezing when your cheek nuzzles against the fabric and your lips part to blow a breath.

She’s dressing as she makes her way to the front door, takes a final look at the polaroid wall that stares back at her as she tugs her shoes on, and slips out of the apartment building into the chilly Seattle air.

You’d been prepared for a lot of things growing up and into yourself. Had learned to swallow the bitter side of sweet, but nothing could have prepared you for the splintering feeling of Abby’s absence.

You wake up a few hours after she leaves, naked and hugging one of your pillows. The apartment is eerily silent as you wait in stillness for any signs that she’s just an early riser.

There’s no shower running, no clattering in the kitchen, no shuffling in the hall. And when you survey your surroundings, comforter wrapped around your shoulders, you suck in a deep breath.

Maybe she has work.

It’s a futile attempt to rationalize the situation, but you know Abby. Know that she’d leave a note, maybe a text, or—

You scramble for your phone, but deflate when you find a notification to water your virtual plant. For good measure, you open her text thread, but all that stares back at you is the confirmation that she was picking you up the night prior.

“Oh, Abby,” you whisper to yourself, something like sickness making your stomach twist.

The cursor blinks, keyboard clicking as you type and retype anything that’ll confirm that maybe you’re just being paranoid, reading into things too much.

So you settle on good morning 💘.

It’s almost instantaneous.

Read at 7:47am.

It takes a little under two weeks for Abby to surface again. Not without ample prodding. You’re a communicator, she realizes, as she sits outside of Jo’s Coffee and stares down at the string of texts from you over the past week and a half.

pretty girl: good morning 💘

pretty girl: have a good day at work

pretty girl: i made dinner if you wanna stop by

pretty girl: can i swing by the station with lunch?

pretty girl: just want you to know that i’m thinking of you

pretty girl: meet for coffee? wanna see you.

pretty girl: text me whenever you’re comfortable, i’ll leave you alone til you’re ready 💗

That final text is what makes her crack. Makes the guilt eat away at her. So she messages you when her shift is over.

me: jo’s at 4

pretty girl liked ‘jo’s at 4’

She looks up when the chair across from her scrapes against the concrete. You drop into the seat, fresh-faced and obviously newly showered. But she can see it in your eyes, the bags that puff like you’ve been crying.

And you have, even if you won’t admit it, because Abby’s the closest thing you’ve felt to what love could be like and these past two weeks have been agonizing as you try to pick apart every single facet of your situationship with her.

“How are you?” you ask, giving her a weak smile over the table.

“Good,” Abby lies, but you don’t see through her poker face and it stings, thinking that she’d been so unaffected by all of this.

You nod, fiddling with the fake leaves of the center piece.

“I missed you,” you admit shakily.

And fuck, did Abby miss you too, but she can’t find it in herself to face her fears head on. So she just nods, biting the inside of her lip.

“Didn’t miss me?” you tease, trying to make light of the situation.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Abby cuts to the chase, words leaving her lips like a shot that echos in the night.

It makes your ears ring, your brows furrowing as your lips twitch into a frown. Abby braces herself, knows what a brewing argument feels like. It’s sick to say that it’s familiarity, that sharp words and hoarse voices are a norm.

But you just shrink in your seat.

“Why?” you whisper.

Abby sucks in a deep breath.

“You don’t remember what you told me?” she asks like an accusation.

You blink.

“You told me that you wanted to be with me. That I’m your person,” she says.

And you wonder what’s so wrong with that. Especially when you’ve spent two months glued, when you were so sure it was mutual.

“I do,” you affirm softly. “You are.”

Abby squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head.

“I’m not—” She clears her throat. “I don’t want a girlfriend. I don’t need the distraction. Especially not now with work and my personal life.”

Ouch. That had hurt, Abby calling her time with you and any subsequent moments nothing more a distraction.

“Oh.”

She doesn’t know why your response frustrates her, makes annoyance pinch the back of her brain as she takes you in, but it does. Full force.

“We’re better off as friends,” Abby says. “It’s easier, it’s—”

“Friends don’t fuck each other, Abby,” you say simply, and the calmness in your tone makes her upset.

She’s used to the shouting, to the arguing and being at each other’s throats in conversations like these. But you never fail to amaze her as you keep your composure.

“I have no intention of sleeping with you again,” she says stonily. “That night was mistake. I hadn’t been with someone in months and you were giving me attention and—”

In her frustration with the entire conversation, she hadn’t realized that tears were pooling in your eyes. That you were trying not to cry.

Her face softens when she notices.

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“You what?” you murmur. “What were these past three months, Abby?”

“I dunno,” Abby sighs in annoyance. “Two people enjoying each other’s company? We were drunk and—"

You simply nod, knuckling away the brimming tears before shrugging your bag over your shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Abby sighs when you stand.

“Home,” you answer quietly. “Whatever. Let’s just forget any of this ever happened.”

She grabs your arm over the table, opening her mouth to apologize again, but you’re shaking her off.

“Take care of yourself,” you tell her.

The days blur like the edges of a muddy watercolor.

You start to think that things could look up, that maybe Abby was put in your life for some reason you’ll uncover in the future. But the universe can be so cruel sometimes, knows exactly what to do to shatter the broken pieces you’d tried so hard to glue together.

It comes in the form of a night out nearly a month after you’d last seen Abby. She made no additional efforts, just left you wondering if you’d imagined it all, and your friends are especially tired of your moping.

It’s a surprise!

And you’re not really one for surprises. Especially not now, but they’re dragging you out, carting you across town. Your stomach sinks to your ass when you see the familiar neon lights. Feel your chest tighten on the trek up the stairs to the same bar that preluded your spiral.

You could throw up when you’re situated in a booth with your friends and you glance at the bar by chance.

Abby’s leaned against the counter top, looking as good as ever, but she’s not alone. There’s a girl that hangs off her shoulder, skin umber and eyes warm. She makes no moves to distance herself and you don’t know why you feel the anger begin to sizzle. Abby hadn’t been yours in the first place.

“What do you wanna drink?” one of your friends asks.

“Nothing,” you answer stiffly.

She follows your gaze to the countertop, sees the way your eyes burn.

You’d kept your situation with Abby private, didn’t want to jeopardize such a potentially good thing with your well-meaning meddling friends at such a fresh stage. But now that it’s soured, you stare openly.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” she asks, and your avoidance is answer enough. “C’mon, let’s show her what she missed out on.”

As it turns out, it doesn’t seem like much. Because she doesn’t even blink when you sidle up to the counter with your friend, three patrons between the two of you.

You’d always thought the two if you had a sixth sense for the other, but Abby’s oblivious to her surroundings, too engrossed in her drink and the pretty brunette hanging off her shoulder.

One of the bartenders goes up, asks what he can get for the two beautiful ladies, and your ears perk when her voice sounds. Nearly throw up the empty contents of your stomach all over the bar top when you see the way she slings her arm over the girl’s shoulders.

“Another vodka soda for my girl.”

She’s buzzed, you can hear it, but it’s the most sound declaration you’ve heard from her in the time you’ve known her.

You break away from the bar, and you run.

Abby feels like a shell of herself.

She’d gone out over the weekend, celebrating a visit from a close friend from the east coast. And it’d done a good job of numbing the pain for a little while, of taking her mind off of you.

But it’s Tuesday, the first day of her rotation this week and she hates that this feels worse than her previous break-up despite the unlabeled status of your relationship. You hadn’t even put up a fight, just took her rejection in stride.

It makes her feel infinitely worse, knowing you didn’t have it in you.

She doesn’t even realize she’s spaced out in front of the drink coolers of the convenience store after her shift when a voice snaps her out of it.

“S’cuse me.”

And she knows that voice. It’d been her greenlight all those nights ago.

Your little sister is brushing past her, going straight for the Body Armors and Gatorade. She must feel the way Abby stares because she’s side-eyeing the older girl from her post.

“Oh, it’s you,” she says, turning her nose up in the air.

Abby swallows.

“Hey to you too,” she says hesitantly.

Your little sister humphs, snatching the golden berry flavor and a yellow Gatorade. Abby takes a moment to glance at her basket, sees fever medicine and Tylenol among other things like instant ramen and Vitamin C gummies.

“Are you sick?” she asks.

Your little sister’s face screws up in annoyance.

“No, but my big sis is,” she says matter-of-factly.

That information makes Abby’s heart sink.

“She alright?” she asks carefully.

“She’s seen better days no thanks to you.”

And on a normal day, Abby would laugh because your little sister is witty, just like you. Can see where she gets it from. But right now, all she can imagine is you bed ridden and coughing up a lung.

“I can take a look at her,” Abby offers suddenly. “I—”

“Yeah fucking right,” your sibling scoffs.

Her language stuns Abby and this time she really can’t help but chuckle.

“You think this is funny?” she gripes. “You broke my sister’s heart. She’s been so fuckin’ sad because of you and you’re laughing.”

Abby sobers up quick, shakes her head.

“No, no, that’s not—,” she splitters urgently. “I– I’m laughing ‘cuz you’re just like her.”

Your little sister doesn’t look convinced, uses the back of her hand to wipe her nose as she levels Abby with an unrelenting stare.

“You suck, y’know that?”

“Yeah,” Abby sighs, hands flailing in defeat. “Trust me, I know.”

“And you’re a pussy,” your little sister adds childishly. “I know you really like my sister.”

Abby doesn’t even bother denying it, just stands there with a prepackaged sandwich that pales in comparison to your cooking and a diet soda.

“I do,” she affirms quietly.

“Then do something about it,” she says surprisingly. “My sister’s a catch, the coolest person I know. You’d be the biggest fucking dumbass if you don’t lock her down.”

And her candidness makes Abby crack a smile.

They stand there for a few moments in silence before your little sister is shoving the basket in Abby’s arms and prancing down the aisle.

As soon as Abby’s paid, black plastic bag in her grasp, she finds that your little sister has lingered outside of the convenience store.

She’s shoving a key in her hands.

“She’s too tired to open the door,” she says. “She likes extra lime in her ramen and runny eggs. Also hates swallowing pills so you’ll probably have to crush it up and put it in her water or something.”

“Who’s the EMT here?” Abby grumbles.

Your little sister pins her with a narrowed look.

“Don’t fuck this up Anderson,” she warns. “If Big Sis asks, I took a train to the mall to meet up with my friends.”

And just like that, she flounces away.

You’re asleep when she sneaks into your apartment.

She kicks her shoes off, sets the bag of convenience store goods on the kitchen island before padding through the living room to peek into your room.

Buried under a mound of blankets, just your eyebrows and forehead peek from the top as you snore softly. When she peels the covers away, she not only finds that you’re sweaty and your cheeks are flushed, but you’re wearing her favorite hoodie.

She hadn’t realized she left it here, but seeing you in it has her sinking to her knees by your bedside, chin resting on her bent arm.

“Hi, angel,” she whispers quietly, pushing the sweaty strands of hair from your face. “Missed you.”

You don’t budge, cheek smushed in your pillow as you snooze peacefully. And maybe she shouldn’t have come here, because all it’ll take is you asking her to stay.

She tucks the blanket to your chin, leans forward to press a kiss against your temple.

In the kitchen, she’s only reminded of how much she misses you. Misses this. She’d spent nearly everyday here during your time together. Brushed shoulders with you while you guys cooked together, leaned against the counter while you took extra care plating her food despite her protests of ‘we’re gonna eat it anyways’. You guys frequently laid out on the living room floor, snacking while watching movies, flipping through coffee table books or getting existential.

She’d made so many memories here, made a home out of you.

The thought stirs something emotional inside of her, makes tears prick the corner of her eyes as she rips open the packet of ramen and digs the seasoning sachet out.

Frustration wells as she goes through the motions in your kitchen by herself. Wonders why you had to go and be so fucking wonderful and make her fall for you.

She’s halfway through and angrily brushing her tears away when she hears your door creak open and your voice croak your little sister’s name in question.

When you stand in the doorway of the kitchen, her name is falling from your lips.

“Abby?”

You rub your eyes momentarily and Abby feels like the biggest piece of shit on the planet as you stand there with the hood of her pullover on, Christmas pajama pants and some crew socks.

“Hi,” she breathes.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, bewildered eyes bouncing around the kitchen as you take in your surroundings. The bags under your eyes are swollen, your lips chapped as you fidget in the archway.

“I ran into your sister at the convenience store,” she admits. “She said you were sick.”

“And?” It’s like you can’t fathom the fact that Abby would have any concern for you. Something like anger bubbles at the idea.

“What do you mean and?” Abby asks, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re sick and I… I care about you.”

There’s that normalcy again, that familiar feeling of emotions beginning to reach its boiling point. But she’s not angry at you. Could never be when all you’ve been is perfect to her. And perhaps in the back of her mind that plays the tiniest role, because you’re everything she could ever want, need, but she steady fucks it up every go around.

“Do you?” you whisper.

You look small, defeated, unable to meet her eyes.

“Of course I do, what are—”

“You really hurt me, you know that?” Your breath hitches. “You came into my life like fate, over and over again. Still do apparently. And you— You made me like you more than I’ve ever liked someone in my life. You let me see you, let me fuck you, let me… let me…”

It’s your first real display of heightened emotion. You don’t bother trying to hide your tears, or hide the way Abby’s built you up and ruined you these past four months.

“And then you just left.”

The lump in her throat nearly chokes her breathless.

“I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, y’know?” you continue and Abby’s hands tremble. “That maybe you really just needed the time for yourself, but then I saw you, and—”

“Saw me what?” Abby interjects. “Where?”

“At the bar,” you squeak. “She’s really fucking pretty, and I hope she makes you—”

“What are you talking about?” Abby grills, taking a step towards you.

“If you didn’t want to be with me, if you didn’t feel the way I felt about you, you could have just said that,” you whimper, dashing the tears away in embarrassment. “You didn’t have to make an excuse about not wanting a distraction.”

“I’m so lost right now,” Abby says. “I—”

“I saw you at the bar this weekend,” you tell her straight. “You were with a girl, called her yours.”

And that floors her. She’s almost a hundred percent certain she would’ve felt your presence a mile away, But as you reveal that you’d only been meters away from her, the closest you’ve gotten in weeks, it makes her gut pinch.

She wracks her brain, tries to recall that weekend, tries to think of any woman who’d give you the idea that she’d choose anyone but you.

She draws a blank at first, but then she remembers the bartender’s passing comment.

You and the birthday girl are too sweet.

Abby had fake retched and Nora’d drawn out an exaggerated ewwww as the bartender set the vodka soda before them.

She’d been far too engrossed to realize that you’d been in the vicinity. But she’s not so sure she would’ve done much to take advantage of your presence if she had.

This is her first act of courage in months and she’s falling head first as she crosses the berth between the two of you.

When she stands a few inches away, you look up at her, thick lashes wet and nose snotty. You look like a mess, but Abby’s always thought you were beautiful.

“Nora’s not my girlfriend,” is the first thing she says.

You think you should feel relief, some semblance of hope flickering, but this feels a lot like uncertainty and you hate the limbo.

You don’t say anything, just wipe your nose on the back of your hand.

“I’m sorry,” Abby whispers, hands coming up to grasp your shoulders.

You make a noise in the back of your throat, corners of your mouth turning down in that telltale sign that you’re not done crying yet.

“C’mon, angel, stop crying,” Abby says weakly and the nickname makes your stupid heart flutter.

Her thumbs are brushing underneath your eyes, over the puff of your eyebags before she’s crushing you to her chest, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other winding around your shoulders to keep you anchored.

Your arms wrap around her waist, taking in the scent of her pine body wash and the softness of her detergent.

“I hate you,” comes your muffled hiccup.

Abby only hugs you harder.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

And perhaps she deserves that, but you’re pushing your face further into her chest and she barely hears you.

“I missed you,” you admit a second later, back of her work shirt fisted between nimble fingers.

A shuddering breath leaves her at the admission, makes her body relax as the two of you stand at the edge of your kitchen.

“Missed you,” she murmurs, savoring the way your body feels melding against hers for the first time in weeks. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

“You’ll stay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, yeah,” she assures you. “I gotta go home and get some stuff, but of course I’ll stay.”

Your hold tightens and your head shakes.

“I mean stay, Abby,” you clarify. “With me. Don’t…don’t run away anymore.”

Her breath catches in her throat, a new onslaught of tears choking her as she nods fervently.

“Yeah,” she croaks, kissing the top of your head. “M’not going anywhere.”

BONUS

You don’t know where the time goes. It all seems to blur together in the moments you spend with Abby, and before you can wrap your mind around the fact, a full year has passed the two of you by.

“You look so pretty,” Abby comments, sitting on the edge of your bed with her legs spread.

She’s watching you through the mirror, blue eyes piercing and unblinking.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way she always seems to make you warm.

“Thanks,” you mumble, unable to hide the smile that twitches while you screw the cap back onto your lipgloss to take one final look at yourself.

“Not gonna say it back?” Abby feigns annoyance, pushing up from her seat to wrap around you, one hand bracing against the dresser as her chin drops to your neck.

“Then it’d be insincere,” you deadpan, head tilting to rest against hers.

She humphs under her breath, shamelessly sliding a hand up your dress.

You stop her fingers in their tracks, pushing off from the drawers to create space between the two of you and alleviate the warmth beginning to bloom behind your navel.

“We’re gonna be late for Nora’s birthday,” you quip, fingertips barely brushing the doorknob before Abby’s hands are gripping your waist.

She’s hoisting you to throw you against the mattress playfully.

“She’ll survive if we’re ten minutes late,” Abby assures you wolfishly, climbing over you to cage your body between her thick thighs.

“You’re gonna mess up my hair,” you whine, pushing at her shoulder.

Abby captures your wrists in one hand, other tilting your chin up to slot her lips between yours. The taste of the fresh coat of lipgloss you’d just applied makes her smile against your mouth.

She relaxes a fraction when you reciprocate, tongue languid. A noise of approval rumbles from her chest when you nudge her onto her back and bite down on her bottom lip. With a wicked glint in her eyes, she’s pulling away, hands resting against the curve of your ass.

Now you’re straddling her, manicured hands mapping from her waist to her shoulders to feel the ripple of taut muscles underneath. She’s tense, obviously waiting for your next move with bated breath and kiss bitten lips.

But then you shift teasingly over her zipper.

“Let’s go,” you hum, pressing a final kiss to her jaw before climbing off of her anticipating figure. “No dessert before dinner.”

neng © 2023

[razzle-n-dazzle]

- hi ! 💌,,

ISTG you’re writing is so well done and creative I had to contain myself from like spam!!

I hope you’re still taking request and if you’re not that’s totally cool, I’ll wait ‘till next round.

Adam reincarnates in hell and oh, would you look at that? the s/o is the only one trying to help and not making him feel worse that he already is. (i just need wholesome content, exam week is killing me rn).

AGAIN, love you’re writing thx for reading so far!

ᯓ★ Let's Give This Another Shot (and not fuck it up this time) Sinner! Adam / Sinner! Reader | Drabble

‗ content / trigger warning: fluff, swearing, Adam being Adam, not proof read (we die like Adam) ‗ author's note: this is for everyone who's dealing with exam weeks, it sucks but I believe in all of you any you're going to kill those exams! (don't let them kill you!). Also thank you so much for the compliments Anon <3, I write for the people and myself, so I'm glad everyone is enjoying the crazy shit I've posted here!

ᯓ When you fall from grace, it's not a pleasant feeling; That Adam knew - or at least he thought he knew - well enough from hearing about Lucifer falling, hearing the horrific things the others whispered about it, mentioning it in passing before the thought disappeared and dispelled into the air as though Lucifer had never held a place in Heaven. As though he was nothing that what he was now, demonic figure that wore a crown made out of skeletons and bones fashioned to mimic horns. Adam never cared about the stories that were whispered, about the horrors he sometimes heard through passing, about Sera recalling how she heard Lucifer scream on the way down, about how Michael watched with horror as Lucifer tried to shield Lilith and himself, about how Gabriel heard his pleads and couldn't do anything; No one could save him from the fate that had been weighed on his shoulders as soon as he had fed the apple to Eve. And partly it was because Adam blamed Lucifer for ruining his paradise, for infecting the mind of both his (ex) wives and causing him grief and pain. Dying alone is almost just as unpleasant as falling from grace; almost.

ᯓ You see, while Adam had died alone on Earth, at least his soul went to somewhere pleasant and he was able to continue living; To make a name for himself and, he guessed, make some friends and live a rather worriless and carefree life in the clouds. He was able to have fun, rock out, and be known as the first human soul ever being able to reach Heaven - that was something not even Eve managed to do, and he took it with pride! It was his title. It was partly who he was. Maybe it was all he was. That much became more clear to him when he found himself waking up in Hell again, the stabbing pain of a dagger striking his back still their along with the weight of his wings. At first, he had thought he managed to survive the assassination attempt, that Lute had just left him in Hell on accident or because she thought he was dead. It caused some sort of pride to well in his chest, a flame that sparked his need to go boost and scream at the top of his lungs - he had survived an angelic weapon! He was immune! He was the strongest angel there was, because Sera would totally fall and die in a sad crumble after being stabbed with angelic metal! He was . . .

ᯓ And that's when Adam happened to pass by a mirror, or well more of a reflective glass on the street of Hell (as he walked, not questioning the odd ball looks he got), and that's when he saw it; What looked like a stranger to be staring back at him, engulfing and taking over his reflection like they owned it, like it was there own. That wasn't him! Well, it looked like him, he could admit that, but it wasn't as sexy or as handsome as him! The reflection would copy his movement, snarling as he did and grinning all the same. With his same fluffed up hair and piercing eyes, the reflection wore no mask yet still held the horns of his all the same; Even the way they slowly curled back before dipping down, forming and L for the gold spikes to rest at the end. The reflection wore his exterminator uniform, yet it was the darker version with the yellow having somehow been dulled and deepened and faded out all at once. His wings were still golden, still tucking at his sides from under his arms all the same, though there was no halo to accompany them this time. And Adam almost wanted to laugh, maybe it was hysteria or maybe it was disbelief, yet he watched to cry and laugh and break the glass all at once; Denying that this was his fate, being unable to stomach that he, First Man Adam, was not only double dead yet in hell. Hell! The first man cannot be in hell, he had created everyone on Earth; All of them came from his nuts and in turn all of them should be praising the fucking land he walked on because if it wasn't for him he wouldn't be here!

ᯓ And yet the Reflection looked back all the same, teasing him with a distorted grin; Like it could feel his distress in the way he curled his fist, pulling back before he slammed it against the glass. It gave a crack, a small one at first, before completely shattering. Adam could care less what shop or business had that glass, he could care less how he effected them or how he was going to be painted in Hell, because this was some crazy mistake! He was not supposed to be down here and he was not going to stand for some stupid mistake that happened because some small crazy bitch decided to back-stab him! Literally! And yet, if Adam wanted any of the answers he so desperately craved, he would have to suck in some of his pride and trudge along to the damn Hotel and talk to the residence who had taken his life. It would take him a while before he accepted such a fate, taking the chance between deciding and doing to walk along the Pride Ring before stumbling into the wrong town and being chased out by crazy demons who wanted to bite him! Maybe even eat him . . . What crazy place is this?!

ᯓ When Adam had begrudging and reluctantly knocked on the new Hotel door, which he would never admit to stopping and marveling at for a second, he would feel that ever irritating dread weigh in his stomach. Who wouldn't feel such a feeling after coming to the front door of a group of people you had tried to exterminate only, Adam didn't know how long, prior! Maybe, silently, somewhere inside Adam knew if he were in their shoes, having faced what they had, he wouldn't accept him either; He would throw him to the curb. Yet, he didn't exactly like that thought, and it wasn't very on brand, so he shoved it down and away and deep until all the could think about is: How in the hell would they not accept me? I'm Adam, I'm the first man! And yet when the door opened, allowing Adam to come face to face with none other than Vaggie, he felt that dread creep in a little. But, not enough to stop him from greeting Vaggie in a less that desirable way, "What's up Vagasaurus?" The sneering comment left his mouth, "I love what you did with the place. You know, it looks slightly less like a destroyed pile of Sh-" Yet the door would only slam in his face before Adam could finish his thoughts or his words; Leaving him standing outside, a tad awkwardly, waiting for the doors to open again. He, also, would never admit giving a glance behind him, making sure no one was standing there to watch him standing in front of the doors.

ᯓ "Vaggie, who was that?" Charlie would call to her girlfriend as she walked away from the door, coming towards where Charlie sat on the floor organizing new activities that everyone could do. All while Nifty rushed around nearby, cleaning Sir Pentious' and Dazzle's memorials in the new Hazbin Hotel. She muttered to herself quietly, not bothering Angel and Husk, who sat at the bar. "No one important." Vaggie would mumble, not being able to catch her tone before it could reveal that it was someone less than desirable. Possibly another sinner choosing a path of redemption after the last extermination! Which the thought caused Charlie to gain a burst of energy, barreling onto her feet so quickly that she knocked around the carefully organized slits of paper on the floor. Vaggie tried to protest, saying it was truly no one at the door and Charlie should just leave it alone! But she was never a really good lair, "Oh calm down Vaggie, I'm sure it's no one bad!" Charlie would grin with a wave, her hand touching the crisp and cool metal of the door handle before swinging the door back open. "Hi, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! How can I-" And yet her words fell flat as soon as her eyes were locked onto Adam's - who quickly spun around, pretending like he hadn't just been looking behind him - and was also welcomed by his light groan of annoyance. "Oh fuck me." ". . . help you." Charlie's voice flattened, dropping as her eyes widened. You know, she's never felt this shocked to see someone at the steps of the Hotel before since Alastor had came along without warning.

ᯓ "Adam?!"

ᯓ "BITCH CAN YOU NOT SHOUT MY NAME?!" Was the next words that were exclaimed out of the ex-angel, the now outcast, as he seemed rather eager to push Charlie inside of her own Hotel and walk in after; Quickly shutting the door as though there was someone outside waiting and stalking him, watching him with all their attention. "Hey no, you cannot just let yourself in here this isn't Heaven!" Vaggie was swift to march her way over to the two, seeing as Charlie wasn't doing anything to discard of Adam she might as well do it herself! No way was she going to let some two-timing exorcist angel not only push her girlfriend around yet also push his way into the hotel. Who did he think he is? And yet Charlie waved out a hand, stopping Vaggie in her tracks. There was confusion, and the two at the bar would turn their heads, before scowling seeing the fallen angel. Adam was sure he could hear Angel's accented voice loud and clear shouting out, 'oh what the fuck is this bullshit!' before Charlie began to talk to him again in a rushed fashion; One he remembered quite well during the meeting that Lucifer subbed her in for instead of coming to it himself, and he was still annoyed by her voice. "What are you doing down here? I thought you-! You know . . . " Charlie rushed out, trying to make it quick as though the others at the hotel would jump and kill Adam again with no remorse, finishing the job that clearly didn't stay permeant the first time; And, honestly, Adam wouldn't put it above anyone here to do that. Adam, who had been picking at his teeth with his pinkie finger, would turn away from Charlie and shrug his shoulders, "Yeah, well, I fuckin' did and ended up down here for some fucking reason, probably a mistake and mix up of souls. I'm sure you have plenty of those down here, pft!- I mean who else would want to stay in this charity case!-" "We're not entertaining you Adam!" Vaggie would cut off the ex-angel, causing his interest to peak over at her. Though he relaxed quickly enough, maybe too quickly seeing as Vaggie had drown out her own weapon and that . . . nasty little creature stood beside her with the dagger made out of angelic metal; Now that little one-eyed demon could give Adam the creeps, maybe even a little (lot) fright, but not Vaggie. "You know, I thought were all trying to redeem souls in this junk box of yours." Adam scoffed, quickly crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. "Are you fucking discriminating against me wanting to return to where I rightfully belong just because I was an angel before this? Wow, that's a low blow, especially for someone light you." Adam's voice dripped with sarcasm mixed with malice, maybe even still a little pride. "You literally tried killing up like- 2 weeks ago!" Vaggie would gesture to the side, as though trying to compare time to the length of her arm. "Oh shit it's been too weeks?" Adam paused, thinking about it yet drawing a blank and shrugging in result, "Shit, didn't know, pft! That shit must still be fresh for you then, huh? Well, let me remind you all that you weren't the ones who DIED!-"

ᯓ "Adam?" Your voice would slip out into the common space of the lobby of the hotel, honey sweat to Adam's ears; Filling them with a melody that could match the songs of Heaven, running down his spine with the comfort he didn't know he needed until now. But even then, you knew he wouldn't break his 'tough man' exterior until you managed to snag him along, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. "Holy shit, hey Babe!" Adam was quick, rushing past and slightly pushing Charlie out of his way to make his way over to you, over to his love. "What the fuck are you doing in a dumb like this? I thought you said you had your own fucking spot near Cannibal Town!" - It had been the only reason why he had tried traveling to that cursed town, even while knowing its residents might try and take a bite out of him or his wings. He craved for the familiarity of someone in this new world, as he had never felt this vulnerable since his first days on Eden; Earth. God's Earth. "Babe?" A chorus of confused, slightly concerned, and baffled voices followed as Adam came to your side, swinging an arm around your waist and instantly drawing you closer. You swore he was fighting off the urge to flick off the others, a casual fuck you for trying to push him off and out. You could feel their eyes as you leaned up to pepper a kiss into Adam's shoulder, to which he squeezed your waist slightly tighter, adorning a snicker upon his face. "Wait, wait!-" Vaggie started, taking a staggering step forward as her arms laid limp besides her. One of her eyebrows were cocked up, her eyes narrow, "What do you mean Babe?" Your name left her lips, "Don't tell me you're dating that fucker!" She would soon exclaim, tossing her hands out as they finally regained the life they had lost. To which you would turn towards her confused, and then remember oh yeah . . . the battle. The one you hadn't been present for though heard about through Channel 666 News; In all honesty it's why you had came here, to the Hotel, to see if you could try and get to Heaven and find Adam again - praying he didn't actually die but was taken back to Heaven to heal or was revived in some way. "Uh, yeah. Adam's my boyfriend-" You would start with a wavering smile, nerves tugging at the edge of your lips. "Oh, this couldn't have gotten worse." Angel would groan, slamming his head down onto the bar countertop, acting like a disappointed parent; Silently telling you that you could have done better. To which you placed a hand on your hip, about to tell Angel off, only to be cut off by Husk tsking and shaking his head, "I would not put you as an Angel and sexist fucker, but whatever rows your boat." His tone came off dry, uninterested, and a little hostile. And with Charlie's silence, you couldn't help but feel the weight of everyone's words a little heavier.

ᯓ And Adam noticed that, with one glance down at you and your face, his wings would flare defensively and his glare was snapped back at the other demons. He couldn't care less that they had been talking shit about him, he couldn't care less on how they saw him or the reasons they thought you could do better than him; They shouldn't care about whether or not someone was out of their friend's league if they were clearly happy with the person! That, Adam knew - or maybe he believed it more. "Hey, what your fucking mouths!-" He would start, trying to draw you away from the others. Sure, he was no longer an Angel, but he was sure as hell he could take any of them in a fight anyways! And yet, his anger was snuffed like a candle as soon as you placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing in and pushing him back. The breath of ire was caught in his throat, not even being able to reach his lungs, as he glanced down at you, noticing the spark that you had seemingly stolen right out of his chest and placed in your eyes. He knew your reservations of fighting with friends, or with anyone in general, so he couldn't help but feel pride swell up in his chest watching you stand up for yourself, for you and him: "I will not let you speak about me, nor Adam that way!" You defended, shooting a star through your eyelashes that the group; Who seemed just as taken aback as Adam had been before the warmth spread from his chest. Vaggie would scrunch her face, much more concerned that irritated or disappointed, but also all of that at the same time. Your name slipped from her lips, "You can't be serious! He's . . ." She stumbled for a moment, trying to grasp her words, "He's led genocides on Sinners all over Hell! He's like really gross and he doesn't respect people. He's a douche and a dick!-" "Dick master," Adam would correct Vaggie just to piss her off, earning a slight jag in the gut from you and a snarl from Vaggie. Vaggie, who, tossed out her hands once more, yet pointed at Adam this time, "See what I mean?!"

ᯓ "And tell me how you felt when you first lost your divinity?"

ᯓ The question lingered in the room, drifting and sticking in the air, as Vaggie stared at you with disbelief; Her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, and her stance rigid. You noticed how Charlie grew nervous behind her, how she seemed rather uncomfortable in the atmosphere that been created in the room since Adam had arrived than you. She would place a hand on Vaggie's shoulders, attempting to comfort her, yet failed to pick out any words to say in response. "It's hard enough to leave somewhere you've called home," You would continue, frowning, "To be tossed out like you had meant nothing, like one mistake had deemed you unworthy despite everything great you have done in your life. Vaggie! . . . out of everyone, I would have thought at least you would understand something like that." Seeing as she had gone through the same process herself, yet had always had Charlie there by her side to walk through everything with. Was she implying that Adam didn't deserve the same because of what he had done? Sure it was crude and cruel, but everyone deserved another chance to mistake their wrongs and that was what this hotel was about; And you voiced such concerns to not just Vaggie but to Charlie as well. What makes Adam so much different from Lucifer, or say another Fallen Angel that managed to wind up down here? What makes him less worthy to be redeemed? What made him less of a human soul as say Angel or Alastor? Everyone fucks up in their life and as long as they're trying to better themselves, understanding what they did wrong and why it was wrong, they should be given a chance!

ᯓ It wasn't long before Charlie said that everyone should take a break, and as such you would lead Adam away from the crowd of people and up to your own room in the Hotel. You could feel Vaggie's eyes linger, you felt like she wanted to say something yet let her words fall short before they were ever given a chance. But, even if they had, you were too pent up to even discuss anything logically with her at the moment. And you think she could feel or at least tell and that's why her words fell short, yet you would never know - you're not Vaggie nor would you ever think like she does.

ᯓ You and Adam found yourselves in your bed after settling some matters, such as a change of clothing for him and whether or not you wanted to try and make the trip back to your apartment today; Luckily you had some of Adam's old T-shirts and joggers you had stolen from him from one of the few trips where Adam had snuck you into Heaven - and yet on the same note, either of you felt like going downstairs to face anyone to leave to your apartment. So, with not much to do, you set the TV on as background noise and brain fuzz as you snuggled up to Adam's side. You felt as his claws, at first, scratched gently at his side, pairing with a kiss on the forehead, and then they began to tap the flesh there; Like you were some little drum that made no noise, yet Adam continued until he switched to rubbing his thumb against your hip. "What's wrong, Adam?" Concern dripped from your lips, forcing Adam to draw his eyes away from the mindless television and down to meet you, and your eyes. He had known your attention had been up at him for a while, at first admiring his face (as you didn't get to see it much) yet it had shifted to concern the more he played with the plush flesh of your waist. He wondered if you could tell he was nervous from the start. Adam's eyes would falter and glance off to TV again, his words causing a lump in his throat as he tried to play through them; Trying to find the best combination to spew out instead of talking without thinking - vomiting whatever first came to mind and not thinking about it later. And maybe you could tell the trepidations that filled his head too; Seeing as you shifted your position from his side, pushing yourself up, and instead onto his lap, effectively blocking his vision of the television. Your hands rested on his chest, something so natural at this point yet something that still caused Adam's lungs to halt for a minute and for his stomach to flutter. Even so, he would give you a curious glance up and down, trancing the curves of your body with his eyes as he has done countless times before - yet every time, you managed to take his breath away. "If you wanted to fuck, babe, you could have just said so!" The snarky remark left his lips, meeting your amused yet disapproving face. He knew that's not what you wanted, yet he couldn't help but entertain yourself when you were basically straddling his waist; As such, his fingers would drag along the calf of your leg before his hands would trail up your thighs before tailing back down and up once more. He saw the flutter in your breath, yet you tried to keep your composure. Even if Adam was making it ever so hard.

ᯓ "Adam," You would start, your tone causing Adam to stop caressing your thighs. It stuck his eyes to yours, and he couldn't look away no matter how much his nerves pulled at him to. "I want you to know, no matter what happens . . . I'm here for you, okay? We're in this together. You're not a solo act anymore, we're a duet . . . or, well, more a duo act." Your words sunk down into Adam's skin, they infected through his lungs and ran to his heart before infecting all his blood and his veins. His hands, which had ran up to hold your waist, gave a gentle squeeze as he swallowed down the saliva that built up in his suddenly dry mouth. A duo act? Sure, he knew you two were dating, that you had been for a while, yet even then he had a silent thought in the back of his head that you would leave him, much like the others; So he never considered himself no more than what he had: A soloist. First Man Adam! . . . but now he was able to add being 'Yours' to his list with some sort of fire-like confidence; Burning and bright. It made his heart catch fire, even more so when you would stretch out lightly and lean down to lay down on his chest; Your warmth infecting all of him you touched, allowing his arms to wrap around your back and for his wings to fluff out and wrap around your frame. It was like he wanted to shield you from the world, shield you from Heaven, shield you from everyone and anything that wanted to hurt you. Sure he had the urge before, but now? . . . "You heard that big man?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, your teasing smirk had him fighting for a breath. You would playfully nudge his shoulder, "You're stuck with me, I'm stuck with you're, we're stuck together so you better be getting used to it! I'll fight for you, you fight for me, and we'll get back to that stupid place that outcasted you in the first place!" But he would like to stay here, with you, forever. "And we'll show Charlie and Vaggie that it can be done and that even if you fucked up you have a good heart in you! . . . Because I know you do under all the gunk." And your laughter had never sounded so sweet, and you touch has never felt so soft and loving.

ᯓ A duo act, huh? With you? Adam could get used to and stand behind that thought; Perhaps, even after all this time, he wanted nothing more than to hear those words, or well the meaning of those words, from your mouth since the start.

ᯓ But even then, with the emotions that swelled Adam's heart with nothing but pure love, he couldn't help but nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. Your scent filled his nose with a warmth he missed, the soft skin of your neck flushed against his smirking lips, a feeling he longed for and couldn't forget. You were perfect, you always had been! "Fuck, Babe, when you say pretty shit like that, it's hard not to fuck you right here and now." Adam would groan before a loud cackle left his lips as soon as you smacked his back. All too used to his ways, you couldn't do much yet shake your head against Adam's shoulder, like a parent scolding their child for saying something offensive. "You ruined the mood Adam!" The huff escaped your lips, it hit Adam's neck and made goosebumps spring up his arms. "Again!" And yet, you didn't protest as Adam tossed you both into your sides with a fever, still cackling as though this was the funniest joke in the world - and you couldn't deny, you loved the sound of his laughter so much. Even as his stubble would tickle your neck as he did so, causing you to start laughing soon after and trying to push his head away from your neck. "Adam! Oh my god, Adam stop that tickles!" You gasped between breaths, struggling to push your boyfriend away as he found joy in your lighthearted misery. Though he would only curl around your frame, not answering your desperate calls of a truce and a stop, and trap you in his arms and wings with no remorse. "You're stuck with me Babe, you said it yourself! Now come here, let me kiss that pretty fucking face of yours until you can't breath!"

Home | Masterlist tag list | @lily-ann-b

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[vixensbrainrotts]

Aren’t you jealous? — Takashi Mitsuya

Content: short fluff

Tropes: established relationships, miscommunication

Warnings: not proof read

Summary: You and Mitsuya who have an undying trust in one another. So much so that when Mistuya is being too nice for his own good and then struggles under the reprocution, you just sit back, grin, and watch.

Vixen's two cents: hey! This has been collecting dust in the back of my drafts so I've decided to give it some love and let it see the light of day. I love mitsuya till the day I die and it's only a matter of time till I write something for Hakkai too (cutie). Anyway, remember that my requests are open if you have au idea you'd like to see! Now enjoy!

You take joy in watching Mitsuya grow uncomfortable around the overly-friendly girl who’s hanging off him like a tick. You had told him that she was no good before but he didn’t seem to care all that much, assuring you that he could handle it. Look who’s laughing now.

And when Hakkai comes up to you, face tinged pink with confusion (perhaps frustration?), and asks you why you’re not doing anything. You just smile and say “He can handle it, and if not I’ll know when to step in.”

Kai's eyes almost pop out of their sockets, his jaw basically hitting the floor. "What do you meannnn?" he whined in disbelief. "I mean that he did that to himself, I told him not to." You looked far too relaxed for Hakkai's liking and leaned back against one of the bar chairs on the kitchen island, one hand supporting your chin, the other grasping your drink.

"Youre just gonna let that happen?" Hakkai prompts again, completely baffled. "Yeah, look, he's coming crawling to me already." You smirk teasingly and nod your head in their direction. Mitsuya, clearly displeased, was weaving his way out of the girl's grasp, making a bee-line to where you and Hakkai were, but ever incessant on wooing him, the girl followed right after him.

"Hey there." you started once he entered your circle. Mitsuya and you made brief eye contact, his gaze screaming a plea before he looked to Hakkai, to whom he gave a weak greeting. “Hi.” He breathed, voice exhausted and annoyed as he rested both arms on the counter he was lying on.

"You seem... glowing." Hakkai tries to comment awkwardly, seeing the girl weasel her way to where the three of you are standing. Mitsuya only offers a disgruntled groan in return.

"Takashiiiiii! Are these your freindssss? you wanna introduce me already??? Hahahahahahah that's so sweet!!" The girl squealed and clung herself to his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. Your ears rung at her obnoxious laughter, the noise foreign and fake. The air grew uncomfortable when Mitsuya didnt respond,so she took the liberty of introducing herself, drawing out the short speech with elaborate (unnesseary) details, reaching over the counter to shake your hand.

You only looked at her, unimpressed, and look at her a bit pitifully. "This is the catch of the night Mr. Mitsuya?" you smiled down at the heap of a man, and he groaned in response. "Yes Mrs. Mitsuya, it seems that something got caught up in my net." It was a running gag between you two- and your friends to some sort: Mr and Mrs despite not being wed. It was clear that it was forever between you two though, so everyone just kinda went with it.

Little Miss disturbance didn't know of that though, and upon looking down at your hands and finding one (the wrong) ring finger embezzled with a promise ring, her mouth widened. Jaw on the floor and hands clammy, she slowly stepped away from Takashi and retreated. Fast. "It was, ah, uhh, pleasure meeting you mr and mrs mitsuya, let me know if you ever need a babysitter.”

Hakkai laughed out loud and clutched his stomach “You’re the best y/n! Man you totally owned her just now! Fuckin' wear the pants!" Te laughed and clapped a hand on Takashi’s shoulder, who had still not risen from his slumped pose. "You better not hire her though, I'll do it for free, swear I wanna watch your little beasts <3" Hakkai's voice had a serious edge now and he looked at you. "Make sure to tell me if he ever dares to treat you wrong. I'll rock his shit!"

Sighing you nod at Hakkai with a smile "Thanks Kai. Will do." you rounded the kitchen island and came to stand to next Takashi, resting your hand on his arm. "Good evening Mr. Mitsuya.” he pulled his head from the counter. "Good evening Mrs. Mitsuya." his drowsy eyes met yours - smiling as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You smiled back, and before long your lips met his in a soft exchange of endearment.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Hakkai turn red and turn away with a shy smile on his face too.

[satelitis]

꒰ SIT NEXT TO ME ꒱. . . p jackson !

pairing(s) : percy jackson x cabin 11! reader

in which percy jackson experiences love at first sight.

requested : yes or no.

!! content warnings : fluff, love at first sight, simp! percy, reader calls percy ‘shirley temple’ , reader is a child of hermes, totally isn’t based on me…. anywho!! 😇

robin chirps : i looooveeee percy!! and i’m cabin 11 what a coinkydink.

“woah.” percy stopped dead in his tracks as him, grover and annabeth walked back by the ring of cabins.

“what?” annabeth chimed looking in the direction percy was.

“who’s that?” he asked the two, his finger pointing at you. as you laughed with one of your friends at a stupid joke you had made seconds prior. annabeth replied,

“oh! that’s y/n. cabin eleven, and you can definitely tell.” she added. percy stood there in awe. his heart was accelerated and his breath hitched, his eyes were drawn to you and you only, nothing could draw him away. well, except for annabeth smacking percy on the head and making a sarcastic comment.

“careful seaweed brain, might wanna shut your mouth before you start catching flies.” grover let out a small laugh. percy rolled his eyes, as he continued walking,

“i’m gonna go talk to her.” he told them, walking away from the two. annabeth muttered something under her breath as percy came up to you.

you turned your head to see a head of curls walking up to you, you watched as he stopped in front of you. he stood there for a second not saying anything but just looking at you.

“uh hey shirley temple do you need something or at i free to go?” you joked.

“hi.” he managed to get out after a small silence

“hi.” you copied. percy smiled awkwardly.

“i’m percy, percy jackson.” he said.

“i know who you are shirley.” you smiled, as you tied your beat up brown converse.

“you do?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“uh yeah, everyone here knows you, you’re famous. almost as famous as your dear old daddy it seems like.” percy laughed awkwardly.

“and you are?” he asked.

“y/n l/n.” you stuck out your hand which had a good number of rings on it. percy was hesitant. “cmon shirley i don’t bite.” you joked, percy shook your hand.

you and percy locked eyes as your hands refused to leave one anothers. the moment was broken when you broke eye contact.

“well shirley i’m gonna go get water before i die of thirst so i’ll see you later?”

“yeah see ya.” percy smiled, you smiled softly as you walked away, your hand leaving his. percy was in awe as you walked away. he felt something in his palm. a small slip of paper with writing on it.

“meet me at the lake 8 ‘o’clock. see ya shirley. - y/n ”

percy couldn’t help but smile as he watched you enter the mess hall. this was going to be an intresting summer.

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

Made by me

The Masterlist

CRAZY OVER YOU

[HYBRID AU]

[FINISHED]✅

Side Characters: Namjoon/doctor, Seokjin/doctor, Taehyung/Hybrid Tiger, Jungkook/Bunny Hybrid, Hoseok/assistant.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, sharp objects, rut, beast behavior.

Genre: Fantasy, hybrids au, smut.

SUMMARY》 Yoongi is a black mamba hybrid one of rarest species of hybrids, who’s about to be put down due to his lack of interest in living. But everything changes after the new medical assistance (y/n) takes a liking to him. Meeting after meeting he realise his feelings for her are not the only thing growing.

INTRO - In the books they say

ONE - Love at first bite

TWO - Bath me with your love

THREE - Hungry for your love I

FOUR - The truth untold II

FIVE - Bitter taste, Jealousy and bites

SIX - Take Me Home

SEVEN - The last bite

SET ME FREE

[MAFIA AU]

On Going

Side Characters: Min Yoongi as Agust D/Mafia boss, Jung Hoseok as Jack/Concierge, Namjoon/Police detective, Jungkook/Police detective, Park Jimin/thief and gang leader, Taehyung/Mafia member FBI Mole, Paradise owner. Jin/unknown, Busan/Mafia boss.

Warnings: This story contains nsfw content (descriptive blood, gore, etc.) as well as sexual content. Mentions may include violence, consumption of alcohol, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, description of injuries, themes of major horror and also explores obsessive behaviors and codependency, robbery, killing, guns, torturing, fire, toxic yandere men, violence, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships.

SUMMARY: You made it. Now a police intern as you always promised to your father before he died, you were more than happy to finally be able to help people like he did. But the law was not what you expected to be like. You did not know how lonely it would be for a young woman to grow her career in this kingdom. Having to take care of your 18 year old brother wasn't easy too and things just got a lot worse when you've met Agust D. The king of the mafia Min. He sure knew how to make a life turn into a hell hole.

INTRO

ONE - Red Chopsticks

TWO - I’ll find you in a dark Paradise

THREE - A deal with the devil

FOUR - Welcome to my world

FIVE - Good girl gone bad COMING SOON

SIX - Dance with the devil COMING SOON

7 FINAL DESTINATION - LILITH COMING SOON

BREATH OF FIRE

[HYBRID GODS AU]

On Going

Side characters: Park Jimin/White fox hybrid.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, violence, sharp objects, suggestive words, smut, alcohol, killing.

Genre: Fantasy, romance, strangers to lovers, R +18.

SUMMARY: Did you know a fox only mates once in their life? For almost 400 years Min Yoongi never mated before, all theses years of emptiness and loneliness. He had tried so many times to end with his own hands. Until one night a hint of sweet and fire blows towards his nose, the smell was something he never felt before. And blood. Running for your life you felt hopeless in front of a lake, two man following you behind. Their disgusting smiles and eyes savoring your female body, you knew what they would do but you'd rather die. It all started with fire.

INTRO - Run little girl

ONE - Wood, cinnamon and honey.

TWO - Please wash away this blood on my skin

THREE - A taste of honey and dreams

FOUR - A rise from the shadows (coming soon)

FIVE - Lost in two worlds (coming soon)

SIX - Moon Knights and The Gods (coming soon)

SEVEN - FINAL BREATH (coming soon)

BUNNY BUNS

[HYBRID AU]

COMING SOON

Side Characters: Yoongi/black cat hybrid, Hoseok/human, Taehyung/golden hybrid.

Warnings: Smut, violence, mentions of blood. And finally some fluff.

SUMMARY: Jungkook needed to hide. He was on the run. And what better place for a bunny hybrid to hide then a Bunny coffee shop? How could he resist? You smelled sweet and looked nice. All it took was one smile of yours and a bunny bread and he was on all fours for you.

INTRO - Bunny on the run

ONE - Bunnies don’t like water (coming out 05/06)

TWO - Carrot Cake 🥕(coming soon)

THREE - Bunny in the kitchen (coming soon)

FOUR - Muscle Bunny to the rescue (coming soon)

FIVE - Bunny Fever (coming soon)

SIX - The last Bun (Coming soon)

ONE SHOTS

Coming soon

YOONGI

My Best Friends Crush

Characters: Min Yoongi/music theory Teacher, Jung Hoseok/dance teacher, Jungkook/art and design student, Jimin/danc student, reader/art student.

Genre: strangers to lovers, forbidden love?

Warnings: mentions of explicit language, sexual references(smutty material), consumption of alcohol, age difference.

Summary: “my whole life I always hated rules and protocols, growing to fin comfort on art as I could express myself unapologetically and freely. But there was one rule I made with myself; never fall in love with your friend crush.

With my rebellious nature, it was bound to be broken but I just never meet someone who would take that seriously.”

HOSEOK

JIMIN

JUNGKOOK

JIN

NAMJOON

TAEHYUNG

[mydearesthrry]

the morning after - h.s.

a/n: so its soooo rare that i see what happens the day after a friendstolovers fic sooooo i wanted to make one but have it actually he realistic (lolol) so fhis is what that is. enjoyyy (also wrote this high as shit so if it doesnt make sense idk)

wc: 700 of fluff

Y/N rolled over in her bed, eyes clenched shut as she tried to adjust to the bright light shining through her curtains, her hair a mountain of frizz atop her head. She burrowed herself deeper into her pillow as she tried to hold onto the last bit of sleep she had, only to fail when she remembered what had happened last night.

She kissed him. She kissed Harry.

Her eyes shot open when she’d remembered what she’d done, her heart jumping out of her chest and making its way up to her throat. What was she going to do?

She gnawed on her lip as she got distracted in thought, trying to plan out how she was going to bring it up with Harry. But… there was no time like the present to rip off the bandaid, she guesses

Pushing her covers off of herself quickly, she marched to her door and threw it open before she could even regret it, the loud creak notifying Harry almost immediately that she was awake.

“Hey, princess!” Harry called from downstairs, making her nearly fall down the stairs.

“H-hi, H,” She stumbled, cursing herself when her voice broke. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good, good,” he nodded, eyes still downward, watching the frying pan. “Wha’ about you?”

“Oh, good, yeah,” She cleared her throat, pulling out a stool at the counter to sit on. “Have any plans today?”

She was honestly surprised at how nonchalant she was being, especially with her best friend, who, not even 12 hours earlier, had his tongue down her throat.

“Umm, not that I can remember.” He shook his head, turning his head quickly to smile at her.

“Oh, cool, cool.” She said through a yawn. Fuck. So much for keeping cool. Now he probably thinks she’s bored of him.

A few beats of silence passed before Harry pushed the pan up to the back burners of the stove, turning to face her. “So?”

“So…” She continued.

“Y’gonna come over here and give me my morning cuddle, or wha’?” He held his arms out expectantly, almost annoyed that she hadn’t gone over to him in the 5 minutes she’s been in the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry,” She squeaked, hopping off the stool and making quick movements to get to her best friend. “Hiiii.”

“Hi, lovie,” He sighed, wrapping his arms around her neck tightly in a hug, his nose burrowed into the top of her head, inhaling her scent.

“Sorry I forgot about your cuddle,” She whispered, pressing the side of her face against his chest, her arms around his waist. “Didn’t mean to.”

She didn’t know how quite to feel. The fact that he hadn’t brought it up at all was stressing her out, because she didn’t know if she was supposed to. Or if he was waiting for her to bring it up like she was waiting for him to.

“‘S okay,” He promised, pressing a kiss to her head. “But, y’know how y’can make it up t’me?”

“How?”

“By givin’ me a kiss. Fact that y’making me wait s’long to taste your lips again after I was nearly insatiable last night feels a little mean t’me.”

“Oh!” She said, pulling back just enough to see his face. “I didn’t know if you remembered that or… or still wanted it.”

“Baby,” He sighed, walking them over to the couch and pulling her onto his lap. “I will always, always want you. I will always want this. Jus’ having you here, close— closer, just how I always wanted to? ‘S a fucking dream, baby,” He murmured, leaning in to just touch the tip of his nose to hers. “You’re a dream.”

And with that, he placed the softest of kisses to her unexpecting lips, humming in content. “I’ll always want you, and I’ll always need you.”

“Promise?”

“Til’ the day I die, sweet girl.”

[reobsessed]

Guiding My Heart

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content/Content Warning: Panic attacks, anxiety, fluff, hurt, comfort, kissing, 2200 words. Summary: You'd finally made it to Baldur's Gate, unfortunately the city overwhelmed you in ways you hadn't considered possible. Astarion finds you panic stricken, hiding beneath a bridge. He does his best to comfort you and guide you through the sunset streets back to camp. Author's Note: Hi guys thank you so much for the love on my last fic! Wanted to do a comfort anxiety fic, so please bear in mind panic attacks are depicted in here. Thank you again to Suri for the wonderful reads and edits!

The chance to regain your bearings never came, as you were flushed down the street by a torrent of people. You watched with garbled breaths as your companions navigated them easily, all while you were pushed back further.

Heart pumping, nerve tingling desperation took hold of you; the kind you’d only ever felt during the heat of battle. It was fight or flight, as you ducked into a bricked out dead end.

Were you dying? Your chest pounded and ached as though you were dying. Upon examining yourself, there was scarcely a wound to be seen. Checking yourself over for injuries only heightened your fear. What if it was poison? 

The numbing weakness in your legs grew, you clutched the wall for support. 

“Darling, darling? Whatever is the matter?” The sweet words of your lover filled the hollow of the underpass. 

You could only respond in the form of irregular gasps. Fingers, slender and cold, held steadfast to your waist. You gave up control and allowed them to lower you onto a nearby crate. He crouched down beside you and pried your balled up fist away from your heart, replacing your hand with his own. 

“Did something frighten you, my dear?” His forehead crinkled with concern, before being undercut by an attempt at humour. “I’ve only ever heard it beat that fast for me, but I suspect this time I’m not the cause.” He shot you a reassuring smile, belied by a tremble in his voice.

“Started panicking. Don’t know why,” you choked.

He looked at you sympathetically, before rising to his feet. “Won’t be a moment my dear, stay here.” And with that he ran off, back the way you came. You could hear murmurings outside. Those of your partner’s hurried reassurance and that of your companions, voices raised with concern and inquisition.

The voices began to die down, as did the palpitations in your heart. Astarion rounded the corner back towards you, but slowed his approach upon seeing your distress. He moved gracefully and feline, as if you were prey not to be disturbed.

You looked behind him worriedly, but were relieved when none of your other companions followed behind. They didn’t need to see you like this. You didn’t want them to see you like this. Ideally you didn’t want anybody here, but if it were to be anyone you were glad it was him.

“Now then.” He crouched down beside you, dabbing your forehead with a frilled cloth. Cooling relief washed over you as he held the palm of his hand against your temple.

“Feels good,” you sighed, leaning into his touch.

“Ah yes, I thought that might help. You’re terribly warm.”

His gentle touch and the soothing cadence of his voice were enough to calm you, but the unpleasant tingle of your limbs persisted, as did your erratic breathing.

“Sorry for all of this, Astarion.”

“For what?” he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. You only just got back, you finally get to see it in daylight and I’m ruining it.”

“Don’t be silly! We’re hardly leaving tomorrow. I’ll have plenty of time to wander the sunlit streets.” 

Despite his reassurance, your eyes began to well. Something about the rise in his tone unsettled you and like a toddler crying over their parent’s temper, you began to sob.

“Shit,” he muttered, looking around desperately; his face an entanglement of hurt and bewilderment. “I didn’t mean to upset you, my darling.” His hands clamped over yours, desperate to provide you with any sort of comfort. “Did I do something wrong?”

You tried to speak, but all that came out were incoherent whimpers. He looked at you with panic stricken eyes, hands still holding firmly onto yours.

This wasn’t fair, he didn't know how to deal with this sort of thing. You were supposed to support him, you-

“My love.” He looked at you sincerely, a slight smile gracing his lips; one of those rare, genuine smiles, few ever got to see. “Let’s stay here a little while longer.” He planted a tender kiss on the corner of your mouth and held you close.

Tears of a new source began to flow and there was no holding them back. His fingers curled around yours; you were drowning and they were your anchor. You tried to wipe away your tears, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Gods, darling, no. Think of all that dirt and those… fluids- from your enemies I mean, not yours.” He pulled another handkerchief from his pocket (did this man just have an endless supply?) and gently, he dabbed at your eyes and cheeks.

“Thank you,” you sniffled.

“There we are.” He looked you up and down, appreciating his work. “All cleaned up! Shame about your makeup, but nothing we can’t fix.”

Red soreness blazed across your cheeks and seared your eyes with swollen intensity. A quick glance into a nearby puddle revealed the inky smear that enveloped your eyes. Gods, what a sight you were and yet he looked at you with such affection.

You lamented his hands detaching from yours, until they returned to your thigh, stroking soothing circles up and down your leg. Lodged deep within the pulsating heart of the city, you'd finally found your pocket of serenity. Unfortunately your respite was short lived as adolescent bellows converged on your hiding spot.

Astarion’s ears twitched in their direction and his face warped from one of contentment to bitter irritation.

“Oi, oi hanging out under a bridge.”

“Like a couple of lovesick trolls.”

You rolled your eyes at their childish remarks. Astarion, however, lacked the patience needed when dealing with youths. He shot them a glare so piercing, it silenced them in an instant. He was a stray cat, territorial and fierce. A non-existent hiss threatened them from the shadows and like a pair of puppies, they whimpered and scurried out of view.

“Was that really necessary?” you laughed hoarsely. 

“What? You can’t honestly expect me to sit here listening to children babbling on.”

You stifled your laughter. “You’re such an old man. You used to be like that too, you know?”

“I’ll have you know, I was never the sort.”

“I sometimes wonder about that myself,” he laughed bitterly, changing the subject. “Are you feeling better now, love?”

“Hmm, I wonder what kind of child you were.”

You closed your eyes and nodded. “We need to get back to the others.” You rose to your feet and Astarion joined you, a supportive hand on your lower back.

“Very well then, I’ll lead the way.” His fingers locked with yours as he led you back into the sunlight. He lit up literally and figuratively, his skin beaming like a pearl in the warm light and his mouth curling into a soft smile. He was truly in his element. “Which route would you prefer? We have the scenic back alleys of Baldur’s Gate and the even more picturesque sewers down below.”

“We can go the normal way. I don’t think I’ll subject you to the sewers just yet.” You smirked knowingly. Your adventure would lead you down into the sewers eventually, why wouldn’t it?

With a guiding hand he led you away from the dark alleyways and into the teeming streets. You did your best to suppress your rising panic. You focused on the prevailing scraps of nature: trickling water, rustling leaves and the painless cry of birds up above. Astarion, on the other hand, had been suspiciously quiet. You noticed how his eyes lit up with delight, as he stared across the street.

“What’s over there?” you asked.

“Huh? Oh, you mean that.” He pulled you in closer; one hand wrapped around your waist, the other still clasped in yours. He pointed across the street. “I’ve always wanted to visit the florist’s over there. The flowers have the most delightful fragrances.”

“How come you’ve never- ah.” You trailed off sadly, already knowing the answer.

“They always close before sundown. It’s rather unfortunate Cazador never let me bring anything home other than victims. A bouquet of flowers could have done wonders for that tacky little entranceway.”

“Well, we could always go together.”

“As much as I’d love to tour the city with you, you’ve had a long day. Let’s get you back to camp first, hm?”

“Okay, we’ll come back some other time.” You said, making a mental note of the store’s exact location.

The sun began to retreat, lost to the shadows of the upper city. There was no quieting of the streets, as the fading light gave way to an influx of people; those departing their homes and businesses, ready for whatever nightly activities they had planned. Astarion held you near to him, skillfully threading you past any who came too close. 

While you had no intention of stopping, a prominent display of cakes and pastries caught your eye. You ground to a halt, dragging Astarion with you. Unnatural hues of reds, pinks, greens and blues peered at you from behind the glass, like rows of infernal eyes. Their construction was intricate and put the very store they were displayed in to shame.

“Quite darling aren’t they?” he said, standing beside you.

“They’re pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted something so beautiful.”

“Speak for yourself,” he replied fondly, looking through the glass; his reflection non-existent, as he looked between you and the cakes. “A sweet treat for my sweet treat.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, we should really be getting back.”

The sun had almost fully set, your surroundings becoming a drab greyscale of abandonment. As you got further and further away the sounds of the city began to fade, muffled behind crumbling properties and streaming waters. It was peaceful, walking together in comfortable silence, firmly attached to one another.

“I could get used to this, you know? Strolling through derelict back alleys with you by my side,” Astarion mused. 

“I’d like that. Wouldn’t mind a change of scenery though, a bit more greenery perhaps.”

Astarion coughed nervously, turning to face you. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to talk about what happened earlier?”

“I don’t- I don’t really know what there is to say,” you stammered in response.

“It’s alright, we’ll work through it together. We always do.” He flashed you a resolute smile.

“You don’t think it’s a little pathetic freaking out over nothing?” 

“The city can be quite overwhelming, I suppose. Not that I would know, I’ve lived here for hundreds of years.” Just like him to humble brag. “I’ve done my fair share of ‘freaking out’ on our little adventure, far be it for me to judge you.”

You wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face in the fabric of his armour. “Yeah, I guess I’m just not used to it. Sorry, again.”

“Oh stop it.” He returned the gesture and held you in his arms. You stood together silent in the moonlight, rocking against one another, all while steely waters lapped against the canal wall.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been anywhere so… populated. I feel trapped, like a rat almost.”

He gave you a once over. “Well you certainly don’t look rodent like. The taste is significantly better, I might add.”

“I wish I was a rat, then I could just run and hide in a nice wall.”

He hummed in contemplation. “I know it might be odd for me to be the one saying this, but perhaps running away isn’t the best option? We’ve faced all our problems head on so far, surely this is no different?”

You buried your face back into his chest, your agreement coming out as a muffled groan. “But what if it happens again? What if it happens while we’re doing something important?”

He rested his chin atop your head, arms still encircling your waist. “I’ll be with you, so you don’t need to worry.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Just don’t stray too far from me, okay?” His tone was steady and confident, but there was a desperate and needy look in his eyes. A far worse person could take advantage of such adoration. You couldn’t let that happen, you’d never let anyone use him ever again.

You cupped his face in your hands, doing your best to look as sincere as possible within the eyes that reflected you. “I’m not going anywhere. Especially not while Cazador’s still alive.”

Satisfied with this answer, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was firm and tender, a silent act to seal the promise between you both.

“Right, we should get back before one of them burns the entire camp down,” you said looking off into the distance concernedly.

“Always a possibility when you’re not around.”

The hearty chatter and crackling fire were a welcoming sight, as you approached camp. None of the others had noticed the two of you yet and you were determined to have one last moment alone with your lover. Feeling at ease, you asked him one final question.

“Astarion?”

“Yes, my sweet?”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” You grinned sheepishly, lips brushing against his.

[maitadori]

I MISSED YOU sfw. jing yuan x afab!reader.

word count : 2.6k

summary : in which jing yuan goes on a two week expedition and you both miss each other dearly.

content / cw : suggestive, making out, fluff, a small pint of angst, whipped jing yuan, emotionally constipated reader

a/n : more assistant reader and general jing yuan mwah

DARK CONTENT BLOGS PLZ DNI!!!!

"i'm going on an expedition tomorrow. it’s gonna last two weeks,” jing yuan says, trapping you against his desk. you’re silent, ignoring him. jing yuan pouts his lips and huffs.

when you don’t speak, he whispers in your ear, “you'll miss me, right?" a smug smile curls his lips as he tugs on your clothing.

you sift through his documents and answer blankly, "no."

jing yuan chuckles as he tugs you into him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his chin on your head.

"you didn't even consider it. you wound me."

"i'll really wound you if you don't get some work done."

jing yuan merely kisses your neck, watching in satisfaction as you shiver and fumble the papers. "i leave tomorrow for two weeks and work is all you think about..”

“general, cut it out..."

"you're so cute." his voice is muffled as he continues placing soft pecks on the skin of your neck, traveling his lips to caress your jaw. his arms move to wrap around your waist and you put a hand over his to try and push him away while your other tries to cover his mouth.

he sees it coming and kisses your fingers, grabbing them to kiss your knuckles softly as you finally turn to look at him with a flushed expression.

with others, they'd instantly assume you were upset, but he could tell; he knew you like the back of his hand.

"why do you refuse to do your work?" you whisper, as if afraid to shatter the atmosphere.

"you really expect me to sign boring papers when you're in front of me?"

"then i'm distracting you?"

"terribly so."

"then i must leave. i can't be the one to hold the general back from his duties," you say, genuinely and sternly.

jing yuan tightens his hold on you before you can attempt to escape.

"who said it was a bad thing?"

"no one had to!!! it is a bad thing!!! let me go," you groan out, struggling in his hold.

"tell me you'll miss me and i'll consider it."

"i'd rather die!!"

in response, jing yuan kisses your cheek, chuckling and smiling as he does. he ventures dangerously close to your lips. his hands are traveling all over you now, nimble fingers trailing past the hem of your shirt and caressing your skin.

"jing yuan!" your tone is scolding.

"i love it when you say my name," he groans, kissing the corner of your lips. "can i kiss you? please?" he finishes off with a demand that he needs his fill of you before his expedition.

he's pleading, a thing that isn't rare, but it is when it's genuine and not teasing. the whiny lilt to his voice has your stubborn wall crumbling.

"yes..." you sigh out blissfully, chastising yourself for your lack of protest. you’re barely able to finish before he's molding his mouth with yours.

you always relented when it came to him, if you were to tell him how much of a spoilt brat he was, he'd most likely giggle and agree. the mere thought of that has you reciprocating his fervent kiss tenfold.

he pulls apart slightly to whisper against your lips, “just by this i know you’ll miss me, but i really want you to say it.” he panting, watching fondly as your grapple him as an attempt to reel him back to you. it’s so endearing, because mere minutes ago you were doing the opposite.

that alone had him almost diving back in and kiss you breathless and mindless to the point where you’d forget your name. almost. but if jing yuan was anything, it was relentless.

“c’mon, i know you’ll miss me, all you have to do is say it.”

but jing yuan also knew that if you were anything, it was stubborn.

“so i could boost your ego?” you tried to sound upset, but your voice was so breathy that you failed immensely.

“i’ll kiss you until the only thing you can think about is me. just say the magic words,” jing yuan says smugly, smirking.

“who said i wanted that!?”

“you don’t have to. it’s written all over your face.” he nibbles your bottom lip, watching the way your eyes instantly gaze down at his lips. “i’m gonna be gone for two weeks. fourteen days without seeing your face, without you seeing mine. won’t you miss me? i know i’ll miss you. i’ll be thinking about your lips so much i doubt i’ll get much done.”

his words had a blanket of desire cover you full. it had you feeling so warm you swore you were drowning in it. how he was able to openly express his want for you embarrassed you beyond belief. it was such an overwhelming feeling; to hear someone talk about craving you in such a direct way. your lips parted and your pupils shrunk.

“w-what..?”

he kissed the corner of your lip. you squeezed your eyes shut.

“you heard me. please, [name], just say you’ll miss me,” his tone has a teasing lilt to it, it makes you a bit infuriated, because you know he’ll never let it go if you do say it. but like always, you couldn’t help but indulge him.

plus his lips looked very inviting.

“i’ll miss you, a lot. you’re all i’ll think about the entire time you’re gone,” you whine out quietly.

he smiles— not smirks— smiles. and it sends your heart racing. but before you can admire it, he’s on you.

“i’ll miss you so much, beloved.” he whispers against your lips.

beloved.

it’s been two days since jing yuan left. it’s not as bad as he anticipated.

well… for you it wasn’t. for him, you couldn’t really say that.

he missed you, it was apparent. if his millennium of texts were anything to go by. the corniness of it all had you scoffing endearingly. he was so adorable sometimes— something you’d never admit to him.

you did as you usually did when he was out, working on documents he left behind and sending letters. he wasn’t in his office often, so the loneliness and silence was something that was easy getting used to.

but as the first week came about, you couldn’t deny the small seed of dread in your stomach.

even if you were used to being alone in his office while he was gone, it was because you knew he’d be coming back within the day. he insisted it was just to see you. so although it was easy getting used to the day routine, the same couldn’t be said for the night; when you expected his arrival and soft voice echoing through the room as he talked about being excited to see you.

but like everything else, you learned to get used to it.

you picked up your phone, setting down your pen. the light of your device illuminated and you adjusted your eyesight to stare at jing yuan’s contact.

you hadn’t texted back.

jing yuan himself admitted he’d think of you the entire time. while it warmed your heart, it also cracked it a little.

you didn’t want to be a burden on your general’s conscious. he was busy and he didn’t need distractions.

jing yuan either got the message and hasn’t texted you, or he was just that busy. you assumed the latter.

you simply clicked the power button of your phone, turned off your ringer, set it on your desk face down, and picked up your pen.

you survived two decades without jing yuan in your life before you became his assistant, what was one more week?

it was hell, was what jing yuan deduced. the sudden influx of mobs on other ships had increased past a population jing yuan couldn’t ignore. bringing yanqing along helped a lot. for being so young, the boy was very strong.

he’d opposed to it at first, but yanqing convinced his general that it could be apart of his training. plus, if anything were to happen, jing yuan was there. he couldn’t argue with that.

and not to mention that yanqing was a huge remedy to jing yuan’s loneliness. he wasn’t opposed to being by himself, no, but he knew he’d only be capable of thinking about you.

it’s been 9 days, you hadn’t returned his last texts, and knowing you, he figured out why pretty quickly. you probably assumed yourself a burden. which wasn’t true, but you must’ve grown in an environment where you were treated as such, so jing yuan was aware how ridding you of that mindset could take awhile.

before, all he could think of was finally kissing you again. but now, all he wanted to do was hold you.

he remembers not too long ago when he insisted that he becomes yours, officially. but you protested, saying that it wasn’t good for his occupation, and that people would talk. at first, the idea of it didn’t bother him. when you’re the general, people talked about you all the time. so he was used to it, but he also realized that can’t be said for you.

you like being unknown to people, the solitude and the lack of interaction. you always told jing yuan you were fine with the little group you knew. sushang, bailu, yanqing, fu xuan, and him. you didn’t need anyone else.

he promised that it could be secret, anything to be with you. but you suddenly looked sad, and whispered quietly, “i don’t want to be your little secret, jing yuan. but i also don’t want to be scrutinized. so can you wait for me, please?”

he affirmed that he would, but jing yuan could also be a liar. he truly couldn’t get enough of you. he doesn’t think you understand just how special you are to him, how infatuated he is with you.

so he thinks about you for the remaining five days, hoping it’ll be enough to get him by before you’re in his arms.

you’re restless. everyone can tell. it’s gotten so bad to the point where even sushang herself insisted to help you, and that girl was anything but helpful.

you missed him, terribly so. and everyone could tell.

fu xuan pointed it out once and you could only groan, “don’t even say that…”

she giggled at your demise, telling you as she snickered that it was extremely obvious. she also held it over your head and said that if you didn’t take a break, she’d tell the general just how much you yearned for him. you relented faster than you could exhale.

having a day out with fu xuan was lovely. even if she was a bit bossy, she was still really fun. also, who knew she was a gossiper? that was a small tidbit about her you never knew, but welcomed all the same.

when you started to part ways and you changed your direction from your home to the office, fu xuan glared at you scoldingly.

“if i find out you stayed past midnight, i’m gonna tell the general,” it was a silly threat that had you laughing. you waved her off and walked your path.

you got comfortable behind the desk, basking in the familiar scent of your general. you stared at the documents and tilted your head. being his assistant was already somewhat taxing, you couldn’t imagine the load as a general.

you huffed and picked up your pen, dragging the work to you and writing away.

sometime later, you started drifting off to sleep. your head bobbed and you jerked up everytime your head drooped a little too low. you blinked blearily, looking at the small clock on jing yuan’s desk. you clicked your tongue. it was far past midnight. you must be lost track of time.

you prayed fu xuan didn’t find out, or she’d humiliate you beyond belief. you couldn’t help the urge to distract yourself anytime jing yuan entered your mind.

while ruminating in your thoughts, a small jiggle of the door handle had you stiff in your seat.

speak of the devil. you thought, waiting for fu xuan and her burning glare as the door creaked open.

but your eyes widened and your pen dropped once the door opens. your lips press tight together and your brows knit.

jing yuan enters in all his glory, still as handsome as he always was.

“g-general…” were the only words you could muster.

he looked a bit roughed up. you could only guess he might’ve got into some trouble. but he looked the same, warm as ever. he met your eyes and smiled softly. it had your heart pounding in your ribcage.

you noticed how you must’ve looked and instantly tried to gain composure, “w-welcome back.” you coughed into your fist.

you could hear him chuckle and the sound of his shoes as he approached you. your eyes dropped to the desk and you shakily picked your pen back up.

you missed him. you finally came to terms with it. it was a foreign feeling that had you unsure how to act. such a new territory that you could only avoid his eyes, frozen.

even when you felt his presence right beside you, even when he turned your chair to face him, even when he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. you were still.

his eyes traveled across your face, his face so full of adoration directed towards you that it had your brows knitting.

“you look so gorgeous. i missed you.” he whispers, a smile so pretty painting his lips— a smile that showed some of his teeth, and the curvatures of his dimples. you wished you could take a picture.

a quiet gasp left your lips and you finally looked up to meet his gaze. your expression looked nearly sad at his words and it had him caressing your cheeks with his thumb.

“you look the same as always,” you replied dumbly, perplexed at even your own response.

both you and jing yuan met each other’s eyes, wide and full of shock as you stared at each other. but it wasn’t long before jing yuan broke and he was laughing. you instantly became embarrassed, muttering a small ‘shut up’ under your breath.

he wiped away his imaginary tears, that dreamy smile still on his lips as he looked at you. his gaze was like burning hot molten melting into you, and you looked down at your fiddling fingers, unsure of how to act.

“i missed you too.” you voiced quietly.

you weren’t able to bask in his expression as he lit up. but how he leaned down to lock your lips let you know how he felt.

“i knew you would…” he whispers happily.

“can you shut up and kiss me?”

“your wish is my command.” he chuckles fondly, placing his hands on the arms of the chair on each side of you as he leans down.

you tug at his shirt and instantly initiate the kiss. something jing yuan couldn’t help but get excited at.

you’d never be able to fully word how you feel about him, so you hoped the little things were enough.

but maybe the way he moved you to sit in his lap and kiss you brainless as you moved against him could tell him everything.

“[name] missed you, general. she got super talkative, but not in the nice way, like in a bossy way! and she was like really annoying!” sushang yelled with her eyes squeezed shut, as if the mere idea of you stressed her out.

if it weren’t for your burning embarrassment, you probably would’ve smacked sushang upside her head. but instead you avoid jing yuan’s eyes, already imagining the smirk that adorned his lips.

fu xuan giggled and covered her mouth. you could only ruminate in your anger.

jing yuan taglist : @fxvcsd (my pookie) @ceylestia @cometheasteroid @voidsatoru @blazervain @meaningofaeons @reallyrene @kaito-exe-stopped-working @lechuko @h0ngh0ngh0ng

[bysaber]

Seeing snow for the first time ft. Ryomen Sukuna

Day 07 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — your long-lived boyfriend doesn’t see the big deal about snow.

word count — 465

content — sukuna’s down bad, fluff, you call sukuna ryo, he calls you “woman” once and “love”

notes — i swear i didn’t plan this to come out on gojo’s bday??? i swear im a satoru girlie! happy bday my love :( also i never thought id write a fluff sukuna fic. let alone a down bad sukuna one lol

Ryomen Sukuna usually wakes up before you do.

It is actually rare for him to sleep, since he doesn’t need to, but having you snuggled up against him all night makes him indulge in such trivial things.

When he wakes, he stays in bed.

He doesn’t know why, he just stays. His crimson eyes flickering from the ceiling to your face, wondering how he ended up being a hostage of such a foolish emotion; love.

He never thought he would care so much for another being, let alone a weak human.

Your eyes flutter open and he’s still shamelessly staring at you. By now, you’ve got used to waking up like this – wake being watched, analyzed.

“Morning,” he says calmly, even though he’s not.

It infuriates him how you make him feel, even though you’re already his. He wants to drown in you.

You’re about to answer when something else catches your attention; you quickly look at the window, excitement boiling in your stomach when you see snowflakes falling from the sky, “Oh, my God!”

Sukuna frowns.

He follows your gaze, but still doesn’t understand what is happening, “What?”

“Ryo!” you squeak, jumping from the bed, “It’s snowing!”

You’re out of the room before he can process what you were saying.

Sukuna takes a few seconds before going after you, grabbing one coat from the closet on his way to find you in the backyard, looking up with a dreamy smile on your face.

“What’s with you, woman?” he asks gruffly, putting the coat on your shoulders. “Don’t forget your body limitations, you can catch a cold. Die from it.”

You chuckle as he complains like an old man, treating you like a porcelain doll he is too scared of breaking.

He is.

But you…

“I just want to see the snow, Ryo. Feel it,” you close your eyes, feeling the snowflakes falling upon your face. Happiness fills you – it is like living a dream.

“What is so special about snow?” he sounds softer now. Seeing how peaceful you look, the lazy smile on your face. He wants it there forever, he wants to watch it forever.

You are so intriguing.

Everyday. More and more.

“It’s my first time seeing it, I always wanted to…”

He lifts an eyebrow, surprised with that information.

Snow, something so trivial like frozen water falling from the sky, was enough to put a smile on your face. It was something you dreamed of.

“I’m glad I’m seeing it for the first time with you, Ryo.”

Sukuna wraps his arms around you, his warmth engulfing and comforting you, and places a kiss on your exposed neck. He’s drowning, but he wants to dive deeper.

“This is nothing compared to everything I’ll show you as long as you live, my love.”