#Here is your angst shell I hope you're happy

[luveline]

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

[astraystayyh]

please fall before i fall

jeongin x reader. best friends to lovers. they think it's unrequited love so a bit of angst. but they're just idiots. happy ending :))

summary : 3 times you saved jeongin's ass and the 1 time he saved yours (and ended up confessing along the way). holidays themed.

winter falls masterlist.

a.n. : i am very happy to finally post my first fic for the winter falls collab with my author xi hehehehhe i hope you'll enjoy this one <333 it's very light and fluffy she's the cute one!! oh and my song rec is i bet on losing dogs by mitski

One. 

Jeongin’s thumb hovers over your contact name, his rosy lip pulled tightly between his teeth. He hesitates for a few seconds before finally dialing your number. 

“What do you want?” you start which makes an incredulous snort escape his lips, a gust of powdery air materializing before his mouth from the cold. 

“How much do I have to pay you for you to come over?” 

“Ten thousand dollars. Cash,” you precise as he mouths along to what you say, already guessing what your next words would be. 

He's come to know you at an abhorrent speed these past few months; since you sat right next to him in your biology class, head buried in an oversized navy hoodie. Your perfume knocked into him like a gentle breeze— Sicilian lemon and white bouquet notes, nostalgic summer amid an unforgiven autumn. Memories of sticky fingers from molten ice cream and feet soles meeting the warm sand wafted in the air, alluring him to the kindness of a long-gone summer, you. 

That is why he talked to you at first, because you smelled nice, incredibly so. He tells you it's because he liked the pair of shoes you were wearing. 

“What if I brought you your favorite coffee?”

“Are you outside my dorm?” you squeal and he imagines you must be scrambling to get up, opening the curtains. He knows he's right as your figure materializes behind the window. “Hi,” you wave, a small giggle escaping your lips. He can't help the fond smile that draws upon his lips. 

He thinks he likes you a little. 

“Hey, please help me wrap my family’s gifts,” he pouts, waving the coffee in the air. Your order that he memorized by heart, not even meaning to, it was just natural for him to order you coffee every day, to remember your preferences as if they were his own. 

“Why are you here if we're going to your dorm anyways?” you laugh, leaning against the window. 

“Because I know I need to bribe you,” he sighs, angling his head to the side. “Are you not going to hang up and come downstairs? The coffee will grow cold.”

“I’m coming!”

An hour later, four gifts are resting beside Jeongin's figure, perfectly wrapped thanks to your skilled hands. He's lying on the warmed tiles, and you're right beside him, so close your knee brushes against his thigh now and then. 

He is keeping count, well, more so his heart, constricting in his lungs each time you touch. 

He's so aware of you, so much he's sure you’ve crawled into his skin, morphing him into nothing but a shell of you. 

Perhaps he likes you a lot. 

“You're an insane man. Who leaves gift wrapping to the last minute?”

“You're best friends with said insane man.” 

“Remind me how did that happen again?” you ask, propping your head on your elbow, and turning to the side to look at him. Jeongin has to pretend that the sight of you hovering over him doesn't affect him. That his eyes aren't drawn to your lips, heart dissolving at your feet, hoping to brush against your own. 

Please fall before I fall, he nearly pleads.

“Why are you so close,” he feigns disgust, pushing your face away with his pointer finger. 

“What? Does that fluster you?” you question, amused, bringing your face even closer to his. He scrambles away before a blush sprouts on his face, one he wouldn't be able to justify to your scrutinizing gaze. 

“As if. You're ugly,” his eyes squint, lips thinning into that particular smile he knows annoys you. He moves to the side swiftly, anticipating the shoe you throw at him.

“You're literally— remind me to never help you again, asshole.”

“I'm kidding. Thank you for today, seriously. I didn't know wrapping gifts could be this hard.” He falls back to the floor dramatically, banging his head against the tiles in the process.

“Well deserved,” you whisper. 

“I heard that.”

“Good,” you giggle, before gently massaging the spot where he has bumped his head. He purses his lips against one another, afraid of what words might escape the confines of his throat, vocal cords moving to the gentle rhythm of your touch. 

“Will you keep on being this clumsy, Innie? mm?” you muse, tone quieter. 

The nickname makes his insides churn, it is always so tender when it falls from your lips. No one has ever called him this softly before. No one has ever called his heart before you. 

He shouldn't be this clumsy with it. It is a fragile organ, akin to glass, easily breakable, so translucent— it'd be easy for anyone to peer inside and find you in it. 

“Yeah, I probably will.”

He'll stop liking you next year. He hopes. He'll try. 

Two.

Next year has come, familiar frigid winds pulling you to Jeongin’s heart, perhaps even more so than before, cementing your being into the nooks and crannies of his soul, perfectly so, as if it was destined for you alone to fill the emptiness inside him. 

Seasons have changed and yet summer remains, its essence stored safely within the notes of your perfume, it tickles his nose as you're seated on the countertop, legs swinging lazily while he scouts through his fridge. 

“Remind me why we're doing this again?”

“Because I made a bet with Yoon.”

“Your sixteen years old brother?”

“Yes.”

“You are in college.”

“I know.”

“Why are you taking it to heart?” 

“Because I have my pride,” he says solemnly, hand on his heart and you roll your eyes. 

“You literally begged at my feet fifteen minutes ago to help you.”

A year later, Jeongin stood beneath your window once again, phone brought up to his ear, hand hidden behind his back. You pick up on the first ring. 

“Look out the window,” he quickly says before you can even speak. 

“Hello, Y/n, how are you, Y/n, are you surviving with the cold—” you say sarcastically as you pull the curtains, the words dissolving in your tongue as he brings a single flower before him— you recognize its pink petals easily, Camellia, the rose of winter.

“I did not have time for coffee, but I plucked this off the sidewalk,” he offers, an amused grin on his face. “Help me bake cookies, pretty please, I'll be forever indebted to you. Forever and ever and ever and ever—”

“This is such a poor rendition of Romeo and Juliet, I'm afraid Shakespeare is suffering in his grave right now.”

“Do you think he knows of every theater play that was done to his story?” Jeongin muses.

“That's a good question actually. I hope he didn't see mine,” you shudder before your face pales. 

“You did not tell me you ever did that!”

“I'll bake your cookies and you'll never bring this up again.”

“Deal. My Juliet,” he smirks and you throw a middle finger aggressively to his face before hanging up. He shouldn't find it as endearing as he does.

“Because, my dear Y/n, this is my holiday reputation at stake. I kind of raised the bar last year with my gift wrapping.”

“You did?” you raise an eyebrow promptly at his words and he sighs, taking out the butter before leaning against the fridge.

“We did. Which is exactly why I need your help again. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if Yoon wins,” he shudders and a giggle finally escapes your lips.

The kitchen warms up at the sight of your smile.

“It's cute when you need me once in a while,” you say nonchalantly, hopping off the counter and moving to wash your hands. Jeongin freezes in his place.

“I always need you though,” he confesses quickly, swallowing the words, hoping that this way you wouldn't be able to taste the sincerity coating them, sticky honey dripping from his tongue whenever it speaks of you.

“Good thing you'll always have me then,” you beam, your words hanging into the air, oxygen suddenly harder to inhale.

“Gross,” he fakes a shiver, as his heart drops in his chest, breaks, and twists at the weight your words carry.

He'll always have you, but not in the way he wants to, your eyes would never soften at the mere mention of his name, and you won't think that a season blooms into every room he is in. He has you, but just a fragment of you, not how you have him, as a whole, heart, body, and soul. 

He's already fallen, a terrible, terrible fall.

“Will you help me or just stare off into the distance?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. He smiles bashfully, rolling his sleeves and sidling by your side to mix in the eggs, one by one, per your instructions. 

It smells nice in the kitchen, the caramelized fragrance of browned butter, sweetened by the sugar dissolving into the warm liquid. Tentative sunlight streams through the window, and it falls perfectly on Jeongin's face, highlighting his sharp features. 

Not that jeongin needs any additional light, he reminds you of spring, a flower blooming on his face each time he smiles, his dimples two youthful fountains the roots strive from, brightening his face even more. 

He tentatively glances at you as he adds the chocolate chips to the mix, only to find you staring forward. He misses the fond look on your face by a few seconds, the tinting of your features with soft hues of pink, of spring, of him. He always misses it, always misses you. 

Three.

"I can't believe you have 37 pairs of shoes but not one nice shirt.”

“It's 36, please count correctly,” Jeongin retaliates and you snort, flopping around in bed till you land on your stomach, chin propped up by your hand. Jeongin is still rummaging through his closet, head almost disappearing into the dark void of his wardrobe. 

“What do you need this for anyway?” you question, as you scroll through your phone mindlessly. Jeongin’s eerie silence causes you to look up. 

“Um. I have a date tonight.”

“Oh.” 

His words hang over the room like a heavy cloak soaked with rain, the oxygen sucked out of your lungs and ensnared within that singular gasp.

Jeongin swiftly turns around, before kneeling beside the bed, eyes brimming with a hopeless search— you are too focused on steadying your breathing to notice.

“Should I go?”

“I mean… Why are you asking me?”

“If you don't want me to, I won't,” he speaks in an overflowing sincerity, as though he'd willingly surrender the reins of his life for you to guide, should you only dare to ask. 

A breath, a pause, and he adds, “In case you'll be lonely tonight.” Your hope deflates in an instant, akin to a birthday balloon tossed into the careless hands of children. 

Pity, that's what he feels for someone who hasn't had a date in a year while he went on ones regularly. Although they never transcended beyond that first meeting, always a first date, never a second. He says none of the people he meets are his type. 

“I have a date too.” It was the truth, Suhoo had told you to meet him at the ice rink. You said you'd think about it. You knew deep down that your answer would be no, solely because he isn't Jeongin.

Perhaps it is too late for him to fall for you.  

“Really?” 

“Yeah, with Suhoo, you know, the guy in our Economics class.”

“He's nice.”

“Mm.” 

Could you lose something you never had in the first place?

“You should wear Seungmin’s white shirt.” 

“Yeah. That's what I thought too.”

“And bring them flowers. The rose of winter, maybe.” 

You had preserved the plucked flower he gave you in a vase. The pink of the petals liquefying and bleeding into the blush on Jeongin’s cheeks once he noticed. 

“That one's just for you.” 

Four. 

You're alone on the ice rink, the frigid winds assail your form, fingers numb from winter's cruel grasp. Suhoo didn't come after all, perhaps he was offended by you calling him at the last minute to confirm your date.

The chill of disappointment is more biting than the frost— you want to melt off the ice, you want your spring. You want your Jeongin. 

But he isn't yours, perhaps he will never be. He is too sought after, too captivated by the fleeting chase of someone new to spare a glance at you. 

But in this instant, you need him. You need him to hold your hands in his larger, warmer ones and get you off the ice rink. You need the sight of his familiar dimples and blooming smile. 

So, you call him. He picks up on the first ring. 

“Are you that bored on your date?” He playfully taunts, and his voice becomes a gentle breeze that stirs the emotions you struggle to contain. Tears cascade down your cheeks in an achingly familiar path. 

“I-Innie,” you hiccup, and you’re instantly met with the sound of scraping chairs against the floor, the hastening cadence of footsteps hurrying out into the street. 

“Did he do something to you?” He speaks so coldly, a tone so foreign to the warmth of your Jeongin. He shouldn't be tainted with winter too. 

“He didn't come. Can you p-please pick me up?” 

“I will. I'm coming in a bit, okay?” 

He finds you rather quickly on the ice rink, a sore thumb unmoving between the gliding bodies. He skates over to you, almost falling twice in the process. 

“You're so clumsy,” you snort as he stands before you, sobs racking through your body once more at the sight of him.

You weren't mad at Suhoo. You were heartbroken over Jeongin.

“I'll beat him up for you. I'll tell Changbin to help me too,” he smiles, hands fidgeting as they land upon your cheeks, trying their best to wipe away your tears.

“Please don't cry. I hate seeing you cry, Y/n, I really can't bear it." The tears only fall harder at his words, as if he's stringing them forth with each touch of his.

“Did he do something to you?” an unknown voice startles you and you turn to your right to find a girl looking at you then at Jeongin, a frown etched on her eyebrows.

“No, I'm her friend I didn't-”

“I wasn't talking to you,” the girl cuts him off and you laugh despite you, as Jeongin’s jaw hangs open, before closing once more.

“It's not him, thank you so much though,” you smile gratefully and she nods, eyes wary as she glares at Jeongin one last time, before skating away.

“I can't believe that just happened,” He exhales, a breath tinged with bewilderment, before he delicately encircles a hand around your back. Gently, he guides your head to rest against the comforting refuge of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you mumble against his navy hoodie, the one he borrowed from you. You can still smell your perfume on him. 

“I'm comforting you.” 

“You don't like hugs.” 

“It's different when it comes to you.”

You close your eyes, allowing the tide of his warmth to envelop you like a cascade of spring petals.

“Where is your date?”

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I love you. I'm tired of looking for you in other people,” he quickly says and you peel yourself away from him, feeling as if his clothes were suddenly made of fire. 

“What?” you whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I love you,” he repeats, each word drawn out, much slower this time, his hands cradling your face, tenderly, as though holding the sun between his delicate fingers. “I'm tired of pretending you're not my summer.”

“Don't say things you don't mean,” your voice wavers. 

“I mean it. I've always loved you. You complete me in ways I didn't know were possible, and I know you only see me as a friend but-”

Your lips press against his, a culmination of aching desires that have lingered for two years. Distant laughter echoes in the background, ice cream melting onto your fingers, a soft breeze ruffling your hair, flowers blooming under the soft caress of the sun— two seasons melting sweetly into the kiss.

“You're literally so blind,” you giggle against his lips, and his smile widens, your noses brushing against one another. “I love you too, idiot.”

“You love me?”

“You're my favorite season.” 

“Don't steal my lines.”

“Hey—” he kisses you this time, the winter is long forgotten. 

Was it ever a fall if you caught him in the end?

[bbydoll18xx]

How Do I Get to Heaven?

'Without changing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven?'

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Themes: angst, slurs, religious trauma, HAPPY ENDING i promise

A/N: hiii so this one is super angsty and sad. I've been going through a rough time, and this is my way of coping. I kinda touched on these subjects in 'She's Such a Good Girl' part 2, and this is similar. I was obsessed with 'Heaven' by Troye Sivan when I was like 15-16 and the lyrics hit a little too hard. If you're gay and were raised in a religious household, I suggest taking a listen.

~

“He’s a fuckin’ faggot!”

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

“Those kinds of people are going straight to hell.”

Your face remained neutral. It had to. But you had years of practice, and while you were internally sobbing at the bigoted remarks, there was nothing you could do to stop it. So you stayed quiet, and you maintained your usual look of disinterest. 

Running up the stairs, you finally make it into the safehaven of your bedroom. You shut the door quietly, trying to avoid seeming as if anything is wrong or out of the ordinary. Nothing could possibly be wrong. You were the perfect child; straight As, never in trouble, and you always were eager to help out around the house. But you were harboring a dirty little secret that threatened to rip you from the grips of being the golden girl of your family. 

Sobs wracked your body as you slid onto the carpeted floor of your room. What had started off as an innocent dinner had turned into a nightmare. Slurs were thrown around casually, and unbeknownst to your family, you were the unidentified target. Your sexuality was the reason you had become an empty shell of a person, riddled with fear of accidentally outting yourself. And the anxieties you felt were bubbling up, threatening to ruin the perfect image of yourself that you had crafted for your loved ones. 

This wasn’t the first time. And it surely would not be the last. 

Your family had always claimed to love you. Your childhood was a happy one, but you feared the truth would break everyone. And even if they found out and still claimed to love you, you knew they would always see you differently. Gone would be the girl they knew, and their eager touts would be replaced with hushed whispers. You’d forever be known as “the gay one.” And you fucking resented that.

So here you sat on the floor, trying to quiet your sobs as you mourned the loss of the life you once knew and the people who would eventually turn their backs to you. 

Summer was ending, and soon you would be fleeing back to college, where your guard could be let down just enough to show the world a glimpse of who you really were and who you really wanted to love. 

There was just one girl who you wanted to love you back.

Paige Bueckers was your best friend. And she was so very gay. 

Since meeting her at the beginning of freshman year, she had pulled you out of a darkness that had resided in you since you had realized your feelings towards girls. It did not take long for you to fall madly, head-over-heels in love with her, but you had vowed to ignore it. 

Even if there was any hope of reciprocated feelings, you knew deep down that being in love with a girl would mean having to come out to your family. And you were just not ready for that. You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready for that. 

The thought terrified you. You knew you were willingly inhibiting a possibility of incredible happiness and love, but because it was at the risk of losing your loved ones, you were shutting it all out. 

‘Fuck. I really need therapy,’ you think miserably. 

That was the understatement of the century.

~

The new school year starts, and Uconn’s campus is ablaze with excited students and the possibilities of what is to come. You are finally starting to feel like yourself again, and the second your parents leave your apartment, you don a t-shirt plastered with Diana Taurasi’s face on it. 

You could finally get your gay card back.

A loud knock rings through the empty apartment, and before you could get to the door to answer it, Paige is peeking her head through it, a huge grin covering her face. 

She wastes no time barreling through the room, sweeping you up in a hug and spinning you around. Your feet leave the ground, causing your stomach to flip, and your legs automatically wrap around her waist for leverage. 

“Someone missed me,” you giggle, feeling breathless from being back in Paige’s tight embrace. You had been dreaming of this since you last saw her, back in July. 

“Course I did,” she chuckles, voice muffled against your hair. “You glad to be back?”

You groan. “Fuck, yeah I am. Lookin’ forward to not hearing some slurs for a bit,” you say, fist-pumping the air with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “And I’m especially looking forward to not having to listen to Fox fuckin’ News,” you add, pretending to gag.

Paige’s eyes rake over you, and she pouts, already knowing how your family could be. She had listened to your endless rants and your pathetic cries for the past three years. 

“I think you should just move in with me after this year ends. That way you don’t have to put up with that shit. Then we can be together after graduation,” she says earnestly. 

This was not the first time she had proposed this idea. And while you were internally jumping at the idea, the fear of how it would look to your family made you shy away. Paige wasn’t exactly the most straight-looking girl. Living with her would make things complicated. Your covert feelings had no place in a situation like that. 

You sigh. “I’ll think about it, P,” you promise, linking your pinky with hers, as you always did. 

~

Christmas break quickly rolls around, and Paige’s words are still playing in the back of your mind. Your feelings for her had grown, as if that was even possible, and having to leave her and the safety and warmth that came with her, was agonizing. 

Sitting against the hard back of the pew in your family’s Catholic church, you look around, thinking about how these people would be okay with you burning in hell forevermore. The familiar feeling of shame creeps back into your chest, the flames licking at your wounds. 

You wanted to run and hide. You wanted Paige. 

The Christmas activities persist, and amongst the holiday cheer and piles of gifts, uncomfortable conversations emerge, and you shrink back to your room, desperate for respite.

You felt so fucking abandoned. This was supposed to be a time to enjoy with your family, and instead you were hiding.

There was one person, though, you knew would not abandon you, and that was Paige. Her presence was enough to lessen the sting of the inevitable rejection of your family, and in that moment, it was enough. 

Pulling out your phone, you dial her number, longing to hear her voice, all the way from Montana. Christmas break could not end quickly enough. 

Paige’s smiling face is soon on your phone screen, but it falls as soon as she sees the tears falling down your cheeks and your wobbling bottom lip.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” She asks in a hushed whisper, voice full of anger and concern. 

“They hate me,” you cry. “They fucking hate me, and they don’t even know it yet.”

Paige sighs, trying to find the right words. While she had always had acceptance from those around her, she knew how difficult it was for you to be at home, and she desperately wished to take away your anguish. 

“I love you,” she stresses. “And I know that doesnt fix your family treating you like shit, but soon you’ll be back and everything won’t seem as shitty, I promise.” 

You nod, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

She loved you. And you knew that. But you wanted her to love you in the way you loved her. For now, you would take what you could get.

“Just a few more days,” she assures, and you feel the tiniest bit better.

Just a few more days. 

~

The start of the new year always engenders change, and you had promised yourself as the clock chimed to signify it was midnight that this would be the year you would hike up your big girl panties and figure out your shit with Paige. Your senior year had to slow down, and Paige’s proposal had been in the back of your mind since August. 

If you could get over your stupid crush on her, things would be all good and dandy, but your efforts to eradicate her place in your heart were futile. You had mused it over nearly a million times. Maybe you’d eventually get over her, and maybe she would have some bizarre habit that would inevitably give you the ick, ridding you of all romantic feelings toward her. 

You could only hope. 

You pump yourself up on the way over to Paige’s apartment, encouraging words forming on your lips, leaving a trail of fog from your warm breath against the cold air. 

You knock on her door, cheeks pink from the frigid temperatures of Connecticut in January, grateful that it hides your blush. Paige opens the door, eyes wide and hopeful. She always looked so damn alluring. 

Your words leave your mouth before your chary mind could overtake you. “I want to move in with you after school ends. I can’t go back to living like that.”

Paige’s features twist into a smile, and she pulls you in for a hug. “Gonna take such good care of you,” she whispers, and you believe her. Your arms wrap around her middle, anchoring you to the floor. 

“I should probably tell you, though,” she trails, her voice getting smaller as she takes a deep breath. 

You look up at her, confusedly. “Tell me what?”

“I love you. And not just like as a friend. So if you don’t want to live with me because of that, I get it,” she mumbles, eyes trained on the floor.

Your breath quickens at the realization. Paige loved you. And the thought of being a colossal disappointment to your family and potentially cast out did not seem to matter as much anymore. Because here was someone who loved every part of you and accepted the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

The look of shock swiftly morphs into one of unbridled euphoria, and without another thought, you pull Paige in for a kiss. It was filled with the pure longing and want of years of uncontrollable urges and repressed thoughts, and it nearly made all the shittiness worth it.

Pulling away, Paige links her pinky with yours again, just as she had back in August. It was an unspoken promise of love. And while you knew the journey would be inexorably difficult, Paige was worth it in the end. 

~

dang that was rough lol but thanks for reading as always:) I really hope this wasn't too triggering or anything for anyone. This has been such a nice outlet for my pain and anger, as I really don't have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I am here for everyone who can relate. My inbox is open if you guys ever want/need to talk

xoxo katy

[wosoragebaiter69]

death is a funny thing

alexia putellas x fem!reader

prompt: alexia angst on 10/10 out of angst scale - for madres bday

A/N: happy birthday madre @greynatomy ! 🥳🥳 you are now stuck at the restaurant

i cried while making this. i dont cry while writing or reading fanfic.

TW: Death, hurt/no comfort, the thought of me not making a part 2 for this

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

2 weeks. That's what the doctor said. 2 weeks until you're dead and you soul is gone from the earth. How does one hold that infomation? How are they supposed to take it? It's not like anyone's alive to really tell you how to cope or react.

So, you sit in silence. Being taken back to the memories of playing football as a child, being in your national team for the first time. Playing for your senior team for the first time. That first kiss with Alexia which was unlike any you'd had before. The first time you'd told her you loved her, and how she immediately said it back.

All of it would come to an end.

You knew you should've been here weeks ago when you first started feeling off, but you weren't one to go a doctor when something felt bad. Just hoped it would go away unless you knew it was an injury that'd affect your career. The only reason you were in the room was because Alexia dragged you there.

What would have happened if she hadn't?

You stare at the wall in front of you, mind without thoughts. Just the shell of someone who used to be there. You feel bad for Alexia, how would she cope? You knew she had plans of proposing, you just didn't know when. That will all be a dream in only a fortnight.

How much will change by then? Will she push you out like she does with most others? Or will she hold you close, thinking that if she did you wouldn't leave her when you both know that won't happen.

When you do look at her, there's tears streaming down her face. Staining her shirt and falling onto the floor. The doctor leads you both out giving a form of all legal action needed before you die. Who to give your money to, how you want to be buried or cremated.

You wonder how they can say such news then proceed to hand papers while being devoid of any emotion. Maybe they've done it too many times to really feel.

- - - - -

Alexia drives home, eyes still leaking with tears. You're not quite sure how she's driving but you both make it home. You watch her mundane and robotic movements, until she's in the living room. That's her breaking point.

You immediately go to her, wrapping your arms around her without saying a word. This makes her sob harder.

"I can't live without you. Please no." Is all you hear over the sound of her breaking down.

"Alexia." You say, but she shakes her head.

"Alexia look at me." Again, it's no use.

"Ale please." She finally listens, looking up shaking as her lip wobbles.

"When I am gone, you will be sad yes but I trust you'll get over me. I trust you will be even better than you are now. You are the greatest woman I've ever met and you are the strongest. I will be with you here until the end and even when I'm not here physically..." You pause and touch her heart with your hand. "I'll always be with you here, remember that. And if heaven or the afterlife is real, I'll watch over you. I promise." You whisper resting your forehead against her own.

She whails into the evening, you cry along with her. Reality and the fear of death finally sinking deep into your bones. You will die. You can't be here forever.

- - - - -

The next day when training is supposed to be on is when you tell everyone at the club, sadness lingers in the air as you hug your friends. The ones who had become a new family for you. The young players like Salma and Vicky whom you'd baiscally 'adopted' when they joined the senior team. You consoled them along with Caroline (your best friend) the most. Those apart from Alexia being the ones you were always with.

It was decided a farewell dinner would be hosted. The last memories and last time to be with you.

- - - - -

Alexia wouldn't leave your side, you didn't want to leave hers either. The weight she'd carry on herself after this is too much for your own failing heart. You wanted to be with her for the rest of your life, and by that you meant grow old. Not die at 27.

The dinner was as much as anyone would expect it to be. Teary eyes and frowns painted on everyones face. The mourning had started before you left, and somehow that was even more painful.

Your will was mainly going to the football club, with no family left to give it to. Part of it went to investment in womens sports and some went to Alexia. You'd asked to be cremated, 1/3 of your ashes in the new Camp Nou, 1/3 of your ashes to be washed away by the heavy winds at the beach you loved so much, and a third to be with Alexia to do as she pleases. Whether to keep or give to people you held so close.

The end is near, it's relieving in a sense. That all this anxiety toward the date will just go. Everything for you will stop. But, you hate being the reason people are upset. All you'll leave is pain and anguish until one by one your friends heal. Alexia heals.

- - - - -

Today was the day, you're not sure how you know but you do. You wait with Alexia, remembering all good times. No words are said, she's trying to remember every detail in your face. Fearing the she'll forget you.

"Alexia." She takes a deep breath, nodding at you to continue.

"I love you, I love you in everyway possible. I love you in every universe. I love you to the moon and saturn. Never forget me, as I'll never forget you." You whisper, breath shaky as you feel yourself drifting away.

"I could never, forget you amor. You're safer wherever you are next. I love you. More than words could ever convey." Her voice breaks.

You don't want to leave her, why did it have to be like this?

She places her lips against yours one last time. Your eyes close, one last time.

—————————————————————————

well... no part 2. reader will not come back from the dead like melanie martinez

but last night i dreamt i kissed taylor swift so theres that

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎHoney Tears౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: angst, self deprecation pairing: peacekeeper coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: coriolanus gets it in his head that you're too good for him author’s note: haven't done a pk coryo fic yet so I hope this is good! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Coriolanus could have sworn you didn't cry salt like everyone else. Your tears had to be sugar. As sweet as the rest of you.

As a peacekeeper he was forced into a certain mindset, one of orders and direction and plans. But you had twirled into his life and flipped it all upside down, throwing all his caution to the wind. The night you'd met at the Hob was ingrained in his eyes to dwell upon during a dull moment on patrol or as he was falling asleep at night, only topped by every second he'd spent with you since.

The Covey had fled after the Games, he'd been told, taking Lucy Gray with him. He'd been disappointed, understandably, but it wouldn't do him any good to dwell on the past. That had gotten him into enough trouble.

All rituals and worries of the Capitol were tossed to the wind. They had no place here, in the rural nature of District Twelve. Sure, there were rules and regulations, but they required no masks or games. Here there was only hard work.

He'd hardened considerably between the moment he'd been informed of his new service on, adapting a new protective shell. The one he'd built in the Capitol would do no good.

But when he began to see you, he could feel it soften.

You with your diamond eyes and smile like warm sunshine, you who entered his life like a rainbow after a storm. You who brightened the dreary scenery of District Twelve and lightened his mood so much he was worried he'd swapped personalities. The second he'd seen you dancing at the Hob he'd known you'd change his life forever. And so, he let you.

In the time that followed you became a fixture in his life that he wouldn't trade for anything. You made him better, he was convinced. With every sweet word that fell from your lips and sweet kiss you gave him he fell more madly, deeply in love than he'd known himself capable. You were a drug tailored to his tastes; a delightful aphrodisiac sent by a higher power. He never wanted to get sober.

Still, a secret thought had made itself known the second he realized his feelings for you. You're not good enough for her.

Coriolanus was a Peacekeeper drafted after a stint cheating in government sponsored murder. You were a sweet country girl, an angel in the midst of the dirt and grime of the lowest district. Never had there been a more mismatched pair.

Even now as he sat in the wildflower field you'd shown him a week into knowing him, holding you between his arms and breathing in the sweet scent of your hair, he knew he was on borrowed time.

You were cradled between his legs, back against his chest as he fingered a strand of your hair. Your adorable obsession with flowers was evident as you flicked the stems between your fingers. You'd given him a few of your findings, and he'd stuck them all in your hair, feeling unworthy of your treasures.

He kissed your hair gently, nose bumping one of the daisies. You were humming and watching the fluffy clouds in the sky; where you truly belonged in his opinion. "Are you comfortable, sweetheart?"

Turning your eyes like shining jewels to his blue ones, you nodded, looking the very picture of happiness. "You're a very good pillow."

"Ah, is that all I am to you?" he teased, the doubtful thoughts leaving him for a moment.

"No, but you're a very good one," you giggled, turning around to nuzzle into his chest. He fixed the flowers that fell from your locks as you did, gently smoothing them.

His heart grew heavy the more he looked at you. Your bright eyes and beautiful smile felt unattainable as time went on, even though you were here with him. Coriolanus had tried, but he hadn't been enough for you for even a second. What had previously been weight was now a crushing thing sitting atop him.

It came out before he could control it. "I can't see you anymore."

Time seemed to freeze as you sat up, turning around to face him. You were sitting between his legs still, the grass tickling your knees. One of the wildflowers behind your ear descended to the earth, bouncing once as it hit the dirt. Your voice was small. "What?"

Right then he could have just said he was kidding, that he hadn't meant it, and gone back to holding you. But he didn't. his own self-loathing propelled him forward into a mistake. "We can't be together."

The shock in your eyes was awful, a thing he didn't want to ever see again. You looked down at the ground, hands gracing your forearms and seemingly trying to self-soothe. The amount of guilt he felt in that moment was terrible.

Seeing that he was serious, you drew back, turning your head so your hair fell over the front of your shoulder. He longed to reach out and touch it, smooth it back, but he knew that privilege had been revoked. Finally, you lifted your eyes. "Why?"

The question was asked so meekly that Coriolanus felt guilt fester in his chest. He tried to keep his face even, unchanging. "I'm...I'm not good for you, sweetheart. You deserve someone better." Each word was wrenched from his mouth. He didn't want you to be with another man. The thought alone sent his mind into fits of jealousy. But he forced himself to continue. "Somebody will treat you better."

"No," you shook your head passionately, another flower meeting its demise in the grass. "I don't want somebody else. I want you."

He was nearly helpless to you. Coriolanus didn't want to deny you a single thing. But he had to let you go. Standing up and taking a few steps away, he hardened his tone slightly. "This is what's best for you."

"No!" You scrambled to your feet, hurrying after him and tugging on his arm. Oh this was becoming painful. "Please Coryo...please don't do this. I want you. I want to be with you."

Coriolanus tried to look away, but you were too magnetic. He couldn't resist reaching out, cupping your cheek in his palm. "I love you. And it's going to ruin your life."

"No-" the word was choked as it slipped past your lips. He could see your eyes welling up, his heart breaking at the sight.

Rubbing your cheek with his thumb, he clenched his jaw. "This is for the best. Don't cry."

But one teardrop like crystal escaped, rolling down your cheek. He remembered his thought from earlier, and was tempted to brush the tear away and lift it to his lips; see if it was as alike to clear honey as he thought it would be. Despite his mind's insistence, he resisted. If there was anything he had gained from his Peacekeeper training it was discipline.

So, taking in one last look at you, the sunset giving you an angelic outline as the final flower slipped from your hair, a single tear track on your cheek, Coriolanus gave your face one last caress and turned, briskly leaving the field.

Coriolanus hadn't realized how slow and merciless time was without the comfort or notion of his girl.

Every day was a twin to its previous and next, creating an unbearable mass of time that overwhelmed him. Even more so was the knowledge that all his days in the future would be inevitably added to it, and then before he knew it he'd be old and gray and despondent, dreaming of the angel he'd let slip between his fingers.

You haunted him day and night, and he saw you everywhere without really doing so. The stars spelled your name, the breeze whispered it, and every flower he came across was you. All he wanted was to abandon his post and run to your little cottage and kiss you senseless, tell you how sorry and stupid he was.

Every thought he'd had before about him being too dangerous felt silly. When a man had someone so good in front of him, he wasn't supposed to force it away. He was supposed to treat it the best he could. And he hadn't. He'd broken your delicate heart, cut it into ribbons like the ones you wore in your hair.

Having to see you in his dreams was a fresh torture. His unconscious mind would imagine he'd come to you, and you'd welcome him back with open arms; tell you how much you loved him and missed him. And then he'd say he'd never let you go again and this time it would be true.

And then just as you were about to kiss him, he would be yanked from his dream and thrust back into the cold barracks, listening to the snoring of his roommates. Whenever he tried to close his eyes and find the dream again it never worked.

Coriolanus kept his blue eyes peeled for you when he was on patrols, grip loosening on his gun whenever he saw someone with even the same length of hair. It was agonizing, thinking he had a glimpse and it turning out to be nothing. He hoped that if he did see you it wouldn't be in the arms of another man, though that was what he'd originally told you he wanted. Unfortunately, what he said, and thought were two separate things.

Finally, one day when rain drizzled dully from the grey sky, he spotted you walking with your shoulders hunched, arms folded over yourself. He nearly did a double take- he may have been far away but you looked nothing like the girl in the meadow that day.

The wet of your hair and dimness of your skin could be accounted to the rain, but it was the look on your face that got him. Your lips were drawn down, eyes somber even from where he was standing. Nothing like the embodiment of sunshine he once knew.

Coriolanus was sorely tempted to drop his gun, throw off his helmet and go to you. But his mind stopped him, those same old insecurities creeping in. Maybe when he'd been a student at the Academy; poor but with a bright future, he'd have found himself deserving. But he was still a Peacekeeper with no future save for the long days of patrols and rules ahead. There was nothing to offer you- the love that put anything he thought he had with Lucy Gray to shame.

Seeing you so miserable now though...it hurt. He knew he wasn't in much better shape.

As he roved over it for the rest of his shift, a realization dawned in him. You needed each other. You kept him grounded, kept him good. You were the hope and light he required to stay afloat in the storms of his life. And for whatever reason he didn't understand, you wanted him too. He'd been a fool to keep denying you what you wanted.

The second he'd returned his gun and changed from his uniform he was booking it. Out of the base, through the streets of town, trying to determine where it was you'd gone. He'd knocked on the wooden door of your cottage, but there was no answer, the windows dark. He asked around, but nobody had seen where you'd disappeared to.

With nowhere left to look, Coriolanus determined only one solution and went there as quickly as he could. His feet didn't carry him fast enough, his eyes didn't work the way he wanted them to. But it was all worth it when he finally spotted your silhouette, tiny in the distance, sitting under a lonely tree.

He approached cautiously, unsure if his arrival would upset you. Did you miss him? Did you even want to see him after the horrible mistake he'd made?

A branch snapped under his foot, and you whipped your head to face him, eyes wide. Coriolanus cringed at the sudden announcement of his arrival but decided to take it in stride. He watched you realize who it was.

Your lips parted, and a single word fell from your lips. "You."

He couldn't help his nod. "Me." You looked nearly frightened at his presence, which was the opposite of what he wanted. Hesitantly, he knelt beside you, lifting a hand to your cheek, fingers gently grazing the skin.

Tears sprung to your eyes the second he did, and you bit the side of your cheek. His heart broke in half. How he'd missed you. He missed the girl that would jump into his arms and snuggle up to his chest, giggling the whole time. He missed his sweetheart.

You sniffled, attempting to turn your head away, but he wouldn't let you. Bowing your head, you began to openly weep into the wildflowers, tears watering the blossoms. He brought his other hand to the corresponding cheek, holding your face up to look at him. "Angel..." he breathed. "Why're you crying, darling?"

"I'm sorry," you choked, chest shuddering as you looked up at him. "I'm so sorry."

Now he was confused. Coriolanus knew he was the one to hurt you. "What are you sorry for?"

"I wasn't good eno-ugh for yo-ou," you shakily got out, breath hitching every other word.

His heart dropped to his stomach, and he acted without thinking for a second, pulling you straight into his arms. "No...no, sweetheart. No, it wasn't you. I wasn't good enough for you."

"I know I'm just holding you back," you wept into his arms, body limp against him. "You could move up in rank, get transferred to a better district. Maybe you'd even be able to go home. And if you've got a girl here it'll just get in the way."

Coriolanus was in utter shock at your confession. This was really what you'd thought all this time? He needed to fix it. "No...no that isn't it at all...oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry..." Hating the sight of you crying, he tried to think. What would distract you? Looking to your knees, he noticed the absence of the little bouquet of wildflowers you usually had in your vicinity. Maybe if he tried something you liked you'd feel better?

Tilting your chin back up, he winced when he saw your watery eyes. His poor girl. Swallowing his hesitance, he rubbed your cheek, saying softly, "Would you do me a favor, my love?"

You nodded, a leftover tear slipping down your cheek. He brushed it away distractedly, focused on the task at hand. "Would you pick me some flowers? Can you do that for me?"

Doe eyes soft, you nodded once more, the usual sparkle in your eyes hiding behind your tears, but still, he could see it. You sat up straighter, brushing your cheeks once for any pearls of water that may have escaped again. He smiled softly as you shifted on the ground, looking around for the perfect flowers for him. It was touching how dedicated you were.

As your soft eyes surveyed and contemplated the flowers, soft hands plucking the stems, he felt a tiny smile break the cracks of his tough demeanor. You tended to have that effect on him, and now he was eager to embrace it. As you gathered flowers into a bouquet, he could see the girl he loved coming back to the surface. There she was. His sweetheart.

You presented the flowers to him hopefully, in a messy bouquet, and his smile split his face. "Pretty," he cooed, taking the bunch from you and delighting in the look in your eyes when he gave his approval. "Thank you, baby."

He carefully put the flowers in his pocket, careful not to crush any of the buds, and held out a hand to you. "Come here."

Easily, you shifted into his arms, soft head resting against his chest over his heart, just where he liked it. Once he had you cuddled against him again, like how he'd been missing for weeks, he whispered, "I'm sorry for leaving you."

Nuzzling your head against his pec, you blinked hazily up at him. "It's okay."

"No it's not," he corrected, plucking a daisy from the ground and tucking it behind your ear. "And I'll spend a long time making up for it, I imagine."

"I forgive you," you said sincerely, and he almost melted. "I love you."

The sunlight was no match for your adorable smile that reappeared like a rain after a drought. You looked up at him like he'd hung the moon in the sky.

And he'd strive to be that man for you.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he kissed your head and then your lips, more tenderly than he'd kissed anything. No, he wasn't worthy of your angelic presence, but you wanted him.

Who was he to deny you of the one thing he knew he was capable of giving?

[witch-craft-works]

So I'm in love with @yuri-is-online's Fyuuture Kid AU I've been keeping up with it for a while and since I've been watching Fairy tail recently I've come up with this:

Yes this is a AcexYuu post cause at this point the ship owns my soul. (I took some creative liberties when it came to Yuu's appearance. Yuu is referred to as a female a few times in the post hope that's ok)

(TW: Death, angst, Happy ending? sort of? You be the judge of that)

Ace laid on the ground. Everything felt numb he's wondering how he can still see as his senses dull. He looked up at the boy who stood above him.

It's a bit ironic to be defeated by someone who looks so similar to him but...those eyes...those eyes he couldn't bring himself to look at moments before...how he wanted to just rid himself of any guilt he felt...how he couldn't protect the one person in the world he cherished the most...But as soon as he peered into them a wave of Nostalgia flooded his body.

He's peered into those eyes so many times. That lovely hue of pink he's grown so fond of...

"Ace! you got collared again? what did you do?" a familiar voice questioned "hah?! why do you always assume that I did something wrong? You're so mean" Ace said childishly Yuu shook their head rolling their eyes at Ace's dramatic actions "so are you gonna come in?" Yuu asked stepping aside. Ace gladly walked in "ooo! you have pie?" Ace asked looking at the pie that had been almost fully eaten the culprit sleeping on the couch murmuring about tuna

"Yeah I was in town earlier and saw some it was 25% off" Yuu gave him a thumbs up as Ace helped himself to a slice his eyes lighting up as he spotted the cherries baked into the pie. "Hey! that's a big piece! save some for me!" Yuu exclaimed dashing forward as Ace stuck his tongue out at the Ramshackle prefect "you snooze you loose" he teased "and you call me the mean one" Yuu pouted as they playfully punched Ace in the shoulder

.

.

.

He knew he was dying...He just regrets that he never got to see them...just one more time would have been enough.

"Hey...kid...whats your name?" Ace coughed out. The young boy's eyes widened at his father's...no at the overblot's question he refused to see him as the Ace Crewel described. The Ace that his mother fell in love with.

This thing was only wearing his father's face

"E-Elias" he spoke, his voice coming out more shakier then he wanted it to be.

Ace's lips parted before forming a smile "Elias huh?...I like it..." Ace let out a shaky breath

His eyes dulled as he spoke his last words...

"I...really like it"

Yutu stood there over the now dead overblot. This thing wasn't his father...so why...why did he just want to kneel over and cry. He was only a shell of his former self so why...why did it hurt so much?

Crewel approached the young boy. He looked down at his former student. His mind flashed back to years ago. The many make up tests Ace and Deuce had to come in for, the constantly bickering coming from Ace and Grim and the many times he, Yuu and the other came out victorious after defeating an overblot and saving the dorm leader from losing themself to despair...

Crewel knelt down beside Ace and closed his eyes. It was the least he could do...if only he could have done more for him...

.

.

.

.

.

A bright light caused him to squint his eyes. He slowly opened them as a nice breeze hit his body, sitting up he found himself in a large field. Blinking a few times he looked down at himself, "I'm...normal again" he uttered when suddenly everything came flooding back. As well as the realization of what happened

"Oh..." he uttered as he looked up. Standing up he decided to explore what else was there for him to do? Before he could step forward he heard a familiar voice

"Hey! Ace!" his eyes widened as he turned around. No way...it couldn't be...right?

There she was...those familiar pink eyes he had grown to love "What are you standing around for get over here!" Yuu called once more waving her hand. "Come on! Don't keep me waiting for you!" Yuu said once more before running ahead. "And you call me a slow poke" Yuu teased crossing their arms.

"Yuu...you're here that means..." he uttered "yeah I've been here for some time. Same with Jack" Yuu said when suddenly they were pulled in for a hug. "Ace?" Yuu questioned as he burried his face in their shoulder feeling the fabric of their shirt begin to get moist.

"I'm sorry...I wasn't there...I should have been there" he uttered. "Oh Ace..." Yuu's eyes softened before patting his head. He then moved away from them before wiping his face with his sleeve "it couldn't have been helped..." Yuu said

"They didn't...hurt you right? Deuce said that his office was responsible for what happened but he couldn't get any information out of them" he said "no I was fine...if anything I'm sorry...I forgot you, no matter how hard I tried to...I just couldn't" Yuu said.

Ace frowned "hey it doesn't matter anymore" Yuu said "still...wish I could teach those guys a lesson or two...assholes" Ace grumbled "but if anything...I wish I could have been in the kids life...I..." he trailed off

"I know I saw. You weren't in your right mind none of you were. Just because we're no longer around doesn't mean we can't keep watching over him. What do you think I've been doing this whole time?" Yuu asked.

"Yeah...he's perfect you know...no doubt it's my genes shining through" he said with a shit eating smirk "of course you'd be smug about it" Yuu deadpanned "what! he's basically a mini version of me!" he exclaimed

"Yeah, yeah I hear you" Yuu said with a smile shaking their head. They'd really miss this. Being able to talk with Ace like this.

"I'm glad he's got your eyes thought. Always loved them" he said. Yuu's eyes widened before smiling "aww you're making me blush" Yuu said before stand up.

"You ready to go? Deuce is waiting for us" Yuu said "right can't keep Loosey Deucey waiting" Ace said standing up intertwining his hands with Yuu's.

Squeezing his hand Yuu pulled Ace forward.

Ace smiled. Happy to finally have them with him again.

[peachesandcreames]

Look What I Found?!

A/N : Slight spoilers so if you haven't seen the movie yet enter at your own risk (and go see the movie!) Reader Beware: angst, fluff, A Little bit of spice 😉. Mention of scars/scaring. Self defense against 3 would be assailants. Y/N is basically a badass 😎. As always read at your own discretion and hearts, likes, reblogs and constructive criticism is always welcome. All mistakes are solely my own. Happy reading 📚 everyone!!! 💞💕

You'd been hesitantly working with Tyler and his ragtag team of Tornado chasers for about 6 months, traveling all over the country gathering data and trying to help the people stuck in the path of death and destruction. Tyler drove as you stared out the passenger window not really seeing the passing scenery, you were beyond exhausted and you could see Tyler taking glances at you out of the corner of his eye. You wanted to let him know that you were ok but you didn't have it in you. He took his phone and started looking for something and when he found whatever he was looking for he smiled. A megawatt smile that made his dimples pop and you felt your heart stutter in your chest.

He really is handsome you found yourself thinking as he turned to face you in the seat, those green eyes and dimples are starting to make you feel things, things like desire and lust. It's been five years and a girl definitely has needs and Tyler definitely could help you out with those needs. You found yourself staring at his lips as they moved but you had no idea what he was saying to you. You found yourself imagining what his lips and rough, calloused hands could do to you. You felt your body heating up and you slid down in your seat and cracked the window for some fresh evening air.

The humid southern air hit you like a ton of bricks and you took a deep breath, hoping to bring yourself back to the here and now. "How's that sound?" You turned your head to glance at him ever so briefly, hoping that he didn't notice your self induced agitation. Tyler was looking at you with those green eyes and you found yourself getting lost in them. You shook your head, trying to clear out the cobwebs and said, "I'm sorry?"

His eyes filled with sympathy and his smile faltered. "I said that there's a Target not to far away from us. You want to go and look around while I fill up on gas? You can look at books and candles. Maybe some snacks?" Tyler stuck out his bottom lip in an attempt to garner sympathy but it had the opposite effect on you. You wanted to kiss it, maybe suck on it while you rode him like a wild horse in one of his rodeos.

You didn't want to be alone even if you couldn't express how you felt. You shook your head no and you could see that he was disappointed but tried to mask it. You reached across the center console and placed your hand over his, which might have been a mistake. His skin was warm like the setting Oklahoma sun and tan from working outside. You locked eyes with each other and Tyler glanced down at your hand barely covering his.

He watched as your thumb moved over his knuckles in an attempt to soothe him. He got lost in the sensation of your cool skin on his and didn't want to break the spell of you coming out of your shell and opening up to him. He was more than willing to wait you out until you felt comfortable. You glanced up at him and took a deep breath, it was now or never and if he's told you once he's told you a million times that you have to face what scares you. The words tumbled from your lips in a jumble "I just don't want to be alone."

A single tear escaped and Tyler caught it with his thumb as his hand came up to cradle your face and you leaned into the warmth of him. You needed comfort and Tyler was more than willing to offer whatever it was you needed. "New plan. We'll both go together but you're not getting out of the truck while I get the gas. Understood?" His whole demeanor changed and the air inside felt as heavy and hot as the air outside.

In an attempt at levity, you saluted him and said " Sir, yes Sir". The look in his eyes turned a different kind of darkness. The kind that spoke of twisted sheets and untold hours of passion and pleasure. You visibly and audibly gulped and Tyler shot a smirk your way as you pulled into a nearly empty gas station except for a group of men standing on the outskirts. You felt uneasy seeing them standing in the dwindling sunset and rapidly approaching darkness as their cigarette smoke wafted above their heads and they started laughing at something one of them had said.

Tyler must have sensed your uneasiness as he unbuckled his seat belt. You turned to look at him and then back at the group of men who looked like they were looking at you but you couldn't be sure. "Hey," he nudged your shoulder with his and you brought your attention back to him. You gave him a small smile and he nodded as he got out of the truck. He locked the doors behind him as he started to pump the gas and you watched the numbers go up as the smell of gasoline filled the country night air. You forgot about the possible threat that the men could pose as you watched the way Tyler's muscles rippled under his white t shirt.

It was a welcome distraction as you watched him walk away and you cranked the AC and turned the radio on, a Luke Combs song filtered through the speakers as you watched through the glass window as Tyler sauntered up to the counter and waited his turn in line. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye, one of the men threw his cigarette butt in a nearby puddle and you watched as the water extinguished the already dying light. You felt your anxiety start to rise as one of the truckers pointed in your general direction and they started to haphazardly make their way across the broken pavement. You watched as they stumbled and their silhouettes started getting closer and closer. Your suspicion was confirmed when they finally got under one of the street lights, they all carried bottles wrapped in brown bags.

Tyler finally made it to the counter to pay as soon as the trio of drunken truckers reached your window. You felt frozen with fear and didn't know what to do. You wanted to get Tyler's attention and thought about laying on the car horn but changed your mind at the last second. One of them knocked on the glass with what you thought was his hand but turns out it was the really sharp tip of a hunting knife. You could barely hear him through the glass, you think that he either called you pretty girl or city girl and you weren't sure if you couldn't understand him because of the ice cold fear gripping you by the throat or if it was because of the window separating you two.

Then it hit you. The perfect way to scare off them off. Before you and Tyler hit the road he had you refill the fireworks launchers on his truck. It was a good thing that he left the keys in the ignition, you cranked the engine to life and let the fireworks fly high into the sky. It had the desired effect of startling the men into leaving you alone.

The second the fireworks went off it caused the man to drop his knife and you saw your moment and you took it. You opened the car door with as much force as you could muster and slammed the door into him causing him to lose his footing and stumble backwards. Before he could recover his balance you struck his nose with your open palm and you felt the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking and warm blood came gushing out and he dropped at your feet. You saw the glint of the knife blade at your feet and you quickly snapped it up and held it loosely at your side. The remaining two men saw their friend writhing in agony and looked between him and you, you who was holding a knife and covered in blood from your wrist down.

They put their hands up and slowly got their friend on his feet. "You stupid bitch. You broke my nose." It looked like he was going to come after you again so you braced yourself. He stumbled as he pushed himself away from his buddies and you reacted on pure instinct.

You met him halfway and used his momentum against him and punched him in his already broken nose. He bellowed out in pain and as he bent over you brought your knee into his face for a third time and it thankfully knocked him out. You threw the knife at him in disgust as you looked up and saw that Tyler had joined the commotion. The two buddies saw that the odds weren't in their favor and took off running into the night. Tyler looked from the bloody man at his feet to see you standing in the harsh lighting of the parking lot, sweaty and covered in the man's blood.

He could see that you were visibly shaken but not hurt. "You look so incredibly hot right now." Tyler said with awe and pride in his voice. That got a smile and a laugh out of you and he took your hand in his and led you towards the gas station bathrooms to get cleaned up. He gave you a change of clothing and left you to it.

15 minutes later you came out of the bathroom and it brought a gentle smile to your face to see that he was waiting for you right outside. You cleared your throat and he turned to face you, he looked you up and down appreciatively. "Are you ready to get out of here?" You nodded and he offered you his arm and you walked towards his truck together and he opened the door for you and made sure that you were buckled in before he locked and shut your door. You rode in comfortable silence towards the store and Tyler jumped out and had your door open before you could even unbuckle yourself. You laughed quietly at his antics and let him help you down.

Once inside, Tyler snagged a cart and followed you throughout the store. He definitely enjoyed the view as you stopped by the candles and tried to find the best smelling ones. You held out a candle for him to smell and laughed as he crinkled his nose. You both decided on Strawberry and lemons and you put them in the cart.

You wandered around the store and felt yourself relaxing. It felt oddly right, doing domestic activities with him. Something so ordinary as shopping with this man had butterflies dancing in your belly. After checking out and Tyler refusing to let you pay, he helped you back into the truck and loaded the bags in the back. He slid into next to you and looked at you expectantly.

You had a standing reservation at a local hotel on the outskirts of town and you watched as Tyler's attention was on entering the location on his GPS system. Bone tired you leaned against the leather seat and felt your eyes drifting shut and you must have dozed off because the next thing you knew was that you were being shook awake by Tyler. You lifted your head off of his shoulder and realized that you had drooled a little bit. "Oh my God, " you muttered in mortification. Tyler laughed quietly as he got out and grabbed the luggage bags and slung them over his shoulder and with his other hand he grabbed the bags from your shopping trip.

You jumped down from the passenger seat and met him in front of his truck. You slid your arm through his and led him towards the nearly vacant hotel. You checked yourselves in and took the key from the hotel clerk. Tyler followed you down the dimly lit hall and you stopped to open the door. He nudged you out of the way gently and his big frame filled the door way, you heard more than saw him set the duffle bags on the floor.

You slipped into the room besides him and shut the door and slid the lock into place. You turned to see Tyler looking at the only bed in the room, you risked a glance up at him and he was frantically rubbing the back of his neck and he shot you a sheepish glance, "I can take the floor. You can take the bed." You took the shopping bags from him and pulled out two fluffy blue towels and pushed him in the general direction of the bathroom. "Go and wash the road off of you and when you get out I'll have the sleeping arrangements settled."

Tyler shot you an incredulous look and did as he was told. "Yes, ma'am." You watched appreciatively as he ducked his head and and closed the bathroom door behind him. You heard the shower turn on and you got to work, stripping the bed and putting your own fresh bedding on after you sprayed everything down with lysol. You lit the candles hoping that would mask the lysol spray.

The bathroom door opened and you turned in time to see him drying his damp hair, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. Just enough to show off his prominent v line. He tossed the wet towel into the corner and looked at the freshly made bed. "So, how's this going to work?" Tyler looked at you expectantly and you pretended to mull it over. You shrugged and started digging through your bag for your pajamas.

You felt his warmth as he stood behind you. "Did you even save me any hot water?" You looked over your shoulder at him. "Yes, ma'am. I surely did." He was laying it on kind of thick and you stood up and walked in front of him. You placed your hands on his chest and looked up at him. "And they said that chivalry was dead, clearly they haven't met the infamous Tyler Owens."

He winked at you as you grabbed your pajamas and made your way into the bathroom. You locked the door behind you and leaned against it just long enough to slow your rapidly beating heart. You wiped the steam off of the mirror and looked at your reflection. You looked ten kinds of tired as you set your clean clothes on the toilet seat and quickly stripped and stepped under the warm water. You let the water work its magic as the knots in your shoulders loosened.

You let the water run cold before you stepped out, wrapping a fluffy purple towel under your arms. You dried off and put on a pair of blue pajama shorts and a matching t shirt. You took a long breath in an attempt to calm your nerves before you stepped into the room. You opened the door and saw Tyler sprawled out on the bedside nearest the door. You attempted to make yourself busy with picking up the dirty laundry.

He muted the weather report that he was watching and looked over at you pretending to be busy in an attempt to delay the inevitable. "Hey, Y/N. It's really OK, I have no problem taking the floor. Hell, it's a step up from some of my previous sleeping arrangements." You put the dirty laundry in a garment bag and turned to look at him.

"Am I that obvious?" You asked with your hands on your hips. Your righteous indignation was enough to amuse Tyler and he patted the empty space next to him. He smirked at you as he held his thumb and finger so that they were almost touching. "Lil bit, come here. I promise you that I don't bite. Unless you ask me too."

Groaning you shut off the overhead light and crawled into the bed but didn't get under the covers. You attempted to get comfortable as Tyler blew out the candles and turned to face you. You copied his movements and slid your hands under your pillow. The movement caused the strap of your shirt to slide down your arm and Tyler's rough fingers chased the slip of fabric and continued down, gently pausing to toy with the hem of your tank top. He paused to let his knuckles lightly graze your lower abdomen and looked at you with hesitation and you nodded slightly as he continued even lower to the prominent scar on your upper thigh.

"Where'd you get this from, pretty girl?" He asked you quietly and you shrugged trying to appear nonchalant. You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, "nobody goes through life unscathed. It's not possible but I fought and I survived." Tyler risked a glance up at you and saw that you were smiling at him. "What are you smiling at?"

"You. I'm smiling at you, Tyler Owens. You make me happy." He reached out for you and pulled you towards him, his large warm palm cupped your cheek and his thumb gently traced your lower lip. "Is this ok?" You nodded and leaned into him.

With zero hesitation Tyler claimed your lips with his, they were surprisingly soft and he smelled like sandalwood and sunshine and he tasted even better. He rolled with you under him and you deepened the kiss and moaned against his lips. You writhed underneath him, desperate for his skin on yours. You could feel him growing hard against your soft center and it brought another smile to your face. You brought your hand to his face and peppered small kisses over him.

Tyler looked down at you with adoration in his eyes. "You're doing it again, Lil' bit." He nudged his nose with yours and you pointed to your face. "What? Oh, this little ol thing. I couldn't find it for the longest time."

"Yeah? Where'd you find it?" You pretended to contemplate his question. "It was the weirdest thing, I found it where I least expected it to be." Tyler waited for you to finish what you were saying, eyebrows raised expectantly. You smiled up at him and kissed him lovingly. "I found it in the heart of Oklahoma."

~Fin~

❤❤

[makeyoumine69]

Hey there! Congratulations on reaching 2k! Your work deserves more recognition. Speaking of celebration, you'd probably call me crazy and I'd understand, but if there's any way you could write a prompt about a reader who's pregnant but has to stay in hospital so Patrick has to cheer her up with some naughty things. I'm addicted to daddy and breeding kinks, so you'll make me so happy if you write it, but you can ignore me if you don't feel comfortable with this idea.

Painkiller

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Even when hospitalized, you can't resist being all over Patrick, like he's some sort of magnet that draws you in. Patrick likes to think of himself as heartless, but the truth is, he can't resist you either, especially when you give him doe eyes and begs prettily.

— CONTAINS: Smut, cussing, handjob, dirty talk, pet names, Daddy kink, slight angst, pregnancy, mentions of violence.

— WORDS: 2k

— A/N: I have to admit that I really enjoyed writing this promtp, so I'm very grateful for such an interesting concept. Also, I'm currently trying to improve my writing by using new words and things like that, so feel free to give me your opinions and advices. As always, I hope you like it! 😘

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

The doctor said you'd have to stay in hospital for at least a week, and your mood was getting worse, but you tried to pretend you were fine, as if it could work and Bateman wouldn't read you like an open book.

"You're probably very happy to have some time off from me," you said once Patrick came close to your hospital bed and trailed his hand along the metal rail. "I was so scared I was going to lose the baby." You sobbed and turned away from him, hiding your face in the pillow.

Patrick's face remained impassive as he stood by your bedside, his eyes fixed on your trembling form. Your words pierced through the layers of his detached facade, striking a chord within him that even he struggled to fully comprehend.

His hand hesitated for a moment before reaching out and gently resting on your shoulder, offering what little comfort he could muster. The weight of your vulnerability settled heavily upon him, stirring emotions that threatened to crack the carefully constructed shell he hid behind.

"I… I didn't want anything bad to happen either," Bateman managed to choke out, his voice laced with an unfamiliar tenderness. He took a small step closer, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back as you buried your face in the pillow.

The sight of your tears tugged at something deep within Patrick — a longing for connection and understanding that had long been suppressed beneath layers of violence and detachment. In this moment, faced with your raw vulnerability, it was impossible for him to ignore the fragile thread that connected both of you.

Gently turning you towards him so your eyes met once more, Patrick fought against the turmoil raging inside him. It was foreign territory — an uncharted landscape where vulnerability dared to exist alongside his darkness.

“(Y/n), you need to rest,” was all he managed to mutter, his large palm kept stroking your shoulder. “When you wake up, I’ll be here.”

Bateman didn't need much persuading as you drifted off to sleep, and after that he sat on the couch next to your bed, watching your chest rise and fall. It was a very short time before you suddenly began to whimper in your dream, calling for him.

Patrick's eyes were glued to your form as he watched you start to writhe around the bed in your dream. The usual steely gaze in his eyes softened, momentarily replaced by a flicker of worry. As you began to whimper in your sleep, his heart clenched tightly.

It was a strange sensation, an unsettling mix of annoyance and, inexplicably, concern. His devil-may-care demeanor slipped as his brows furrowed in a rare sign of worry. The distinct call of his name shot through him, jolting him out of his observations.

"Fuck." Bateman muttered under his breath as he quickly rose to his feet.

It was disconcerting, to say the least.

With an odd sense of urgency, he made his way to the side of your bed. Standing there, he watched your pitifully distressed expression in your sleep, his mind grappling with what he should do.

"I'm here, (y/n)," he finally muttered softly, as if hoping his words could offer you some solace. Patrick reluctantly reached out to touch you, his hand hovering over your body for a moment before finally resting gently over yours. His thumb moved in careful circles over your skin, attempting to provide an unfamiliar comfort.

"Fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do?" Bateman murmured, addressing no one but himself. He found himself oddly captivated and unsettled by the vulnerability, his own included, that the night had brought about.

When you felt his touch, you woke up to see his worried gaze. "Patrick, my love," you whimpered, sitting on the hospital bed. Your pregnancy bump was so big already that you had to be careful when you sat up. "I had a bad dream…Can you hold me, please?"

The desperation in your plea hit Patrick like a punch to the gut.

Shit, he thought, gritting his teeth. He was Patrick Bateman, a man unaccustomed to offering comfort, especially in such tender moments. His life was a well-orchestrated symphony of controlled chaos and bloody violence, not late-night cuddles and shared intimacies. And yet, as he stared at you — the mother of his unborn child — he couldn't suppress the unfamiliar tug at his heartstrings.

Swallowing back his apprehension, he mumbled: "Alright, doll. Just… fucking hell, give me a moment."

Patrick took a hesitant step toward you, his thin fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides. With a deep, controlled inhale, he extended a hand towards you, resting it gently on your protruding belly. The sensation sent an unfamiliar jolt through him, momentarily silencing him.

"Well, shit. Here we go." Bateman muttered, awkwardly maneuvering himself onto the bed and next to you, his body stiff and unnatural in the unusual position.

His uncertainty melted away with the familiar warmth of your reliance on him, power dynamics shifting in unexpected ways. With a heavy sigh, he wrapped an arm around you, drawing you in close, too caught up in your twisted little world to question the impending shitstorm he was sure to face when dawn broke. "Damn, (y/n)," he muttered, hiding his discomfort behind the familiar veil of profanities. "You owe me for this."

Breaking heavily, you ran your fingers along his broad chest, your heart beating against your ribcage at his words.

"How can I return the favor, Daddy?" You asked, lifting your innocent eyes at him while your hand traced along his inviting groin.

Patrick's whole body went rigid at your sudden courage.

It was a daring move on your part, and his immediate reaction was a guttural curse. "Fucking hell, babe," he growled lowly, striving to keep his composure. Despite the coarse words, he didn't pull away, harshly conflicted between desire and his usual detachment. "Daddy, huh?" A wicked grin spread across his face at your choice of words.

Bateman couldn't help but find the situation somewhat amusing, a much-needed relief given the nauseating state of his existence. He cast a sidelong glance at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your faux innocence. "Are you ready to play with fire, my dear wife?" Patrick challenged, his voice oozing arrogance and dark amusement, a stark contrast to the situation they found themselves in — your hand on his manhood, in the hospital, waiting for their kid. A manic laughter bubbled in his chest at the absurdity of it all, slipping out in an almost silent huff. "I've received my fair share of blowjobs, but this," Patrick drawled, gripping your hand on top of his pants, arching a brow at you. "This would be one for the books."

You couldn’t help but gasp at his touch. "But what if someone comes in?" You asked naively, ignoring the fact that it was already night.

Patrick curled an eyebrow at you, an amused smirk forming on his lips. "So what?" He retorted mockingly, the challenging glint in his eyes reflecting his twisted thrill for risk. "I mean, wouldn't that just add to the fun?" he continued, his hand tightening around yours, the blatant disregard for the possible consequences typical of his reckless, self-indulgent nature."Besides," he added, his voice dropping to a malicious whisper. "Do you really think I give a shit, (y/n)?" He chuckled, his laughter echoing harshly in the stark hospital room.

In his world, such niceties as propriety and privacy were worth nothing more than the dirt under his designer shoes. Patrick obeyed no rules but his own. And right now, his rules were beginning to look a hell of a lot more interesting.

You looked down at your swollen belly, which made it so hard for you to bend down, so you decided to find a compromise. "How about a handjob?" You asked and unzipped his pants, teasing his hard length through his fancy underwear.

Caught off-guard by your proposition, Patrick was momentarily speechless, the intrusive sound of his heartbeat all he could hear besides the low hum of the hospital's air conditioning.

"A handjob? Really?" Bateman muttered with an incredulous laugh. But beneath the surface, he was intrigued. The expectancy in your eyes, the daringness of your manner, and the feel of your hand against him were potent enough to stoke his interest, like a moth drawn to open flame.

Patrick let out a hiss as he felt your hand wrapped around him, his eyes narrowed with an intense, predatory gaze. "Fuck," he ground out, his composure faltering. He was uncomfortably aware of the strange mix of emotions this situation was igniting. Driving his hand into your hair, Patrick tugged your closer, the anticipation tightening his features into a mask of dark desire. "A handjob is fine." He finally consented, his voice as cold as winter's frostbite.

He was not a man to refuse a challenge or deny his twisted desires, and this situation was no exception. The game was on, and he was ready to play ball.

Huffing, you were doing your best to give him a good pump, although your pregnancy bump made you feel very clumsy. With a shy smile, you leaned closer to his face to find his plump lips and pulled him into a deep kiss as your hand worked to bring him pleasure. Thank God it's dark in the hospital room and he couldn’t see your embarrassment.

"Daddy… I… I want you to fuck me right here and right now, but I don't know how we're going to do it since we're in the hospital,"you mumbled, feeling shame burning inside of you. "I'm so sorry for asking."

Patrick's heart pounded wildly in his chest at your words. A sense of elation mixed with fear passed through him, creating a feeling of sickening pleasure. The thought of being caught in such a compromising position added fuel to his already burning desire.

"Oh? You want Daddy to fuck you right here?" Bateman scoffed, his voice a low, predatory growl. "You're a dirty fucking whore. A pregnant whore." He added, his words dripping with contempt.

He could feel his pulse quickening as he thought about the risk involved, the scandal it would cause, the thrill of the danger. His eyes gleamed with a perverse enjoyment. "Well, babydoll," his voice came out breathless. "I guess we'll just have to figure it out, won't we?"

With that, Bateman pulled you closer, sealing your lips in a harsh, needy kiss while his free hand roamed over your body, desperate to claim you in the twisted way only he could achieve.

“There's a bathroom," you murmured breathlessly and stroked his thick dick several times. "Maybe we can go there?"

Patrick grunted in response, his body humming with anticipation at the suggestion. "You're a shameless fucking slut," he muttered against your trembling lips, but there was a calculated gleam in his eye that suggested approval."We'll get there," he whispered, his fingers tightening on your body. "But not before I've finished with what you've started."

He grinned wickedly down at you, his hand sliding with purposeful intent down your little frame towards the curve of your abdomen. The fact that the child growing inside of you was his own, twisted his pleasure into something even more perverse.

Hot and bothered, you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip from the burning desire inside your gut, so you had to close your eyes and gasp: “You will probably have to shush me, Daddy.”

Patrick chuckled darkly at your words, a thrill shooting through him. "Oh, baby," he murmured huskily. "I think I can handle that."

Bateman moved closer, reaching out to cover your mouth with his hand, he could feel your hot breath brushing against his skin, your panting filling the small space.

God, you were so fucking insatiable.

"Now, be a good girl and keep those pretty lips of yours quiet." He drawled, his eyes ablaze with wicked intent. Patrick lowered his head, pressing a fierce kiss on the side of your neck.

P.S. I'm thinking of writing part two, so let me know if you're interested. Thanks for reading! 💗🖤💗

I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[letsgetrowdy43]

we need some Luke angst

His biggest regret ❧

Luke Hughes x childhood best friend… but make it angsty

Part two!!

Luke is in his freshman year of university, and his best friend Y/n also attends Umich with him, she is basically an honorary Hughes.

He meets this new girl from one of the sororities affiliated with the hockey team, thinks she’s amazing and is head over heels for her. She’s not a fan of Y/n whatsoever, so she’s slowly wedging herself in between Luke and his best friend.

Here is the kicker, Y/n is in love with Luke, always has been and probably always will be. She just wishes he would open his eyes for once and see how bad she has it for him.

They were practically raised together so she gets that he sees her as family, but there had been a few drunken nights of none platonic moments that gave her a little hope.

Summer rolls around, and y/n is devastated, Luke has not talked to her in a little over a month, and didn’t invite her to the lake housd.

Quinn and Ellen are making lunches one day and it all felt so wrong, there is no summer without y/n. So the two eldest sons both hop in Ellen’s car and kidnap Y/n from her house and drag her to the lake house. “You’re not with Luke?” “He didn’t invite me,” she sighed as Jack rummaged around her closet for clothes to pack, forcing her to get in the car. “You don’t need an invite Y/n/n, you’re family,” Jack said softly as he tackled her in a hug. “Your brother’s girlfriend has a distaste for me, so I decided it probably not best I’m there” Both the boys gave her a knowing look at that comment.

Quinn and Jack had always known about her liking for Luke, they were also pretty sure Luke reciprocated the feelings, but he’s an idiot when it came to love. They wanted to interfere a few times but decided it was probably best to let them figure it out on their own.

Anyways! Back at the Lake house, Luke is shell shocked the moment Quinn piggybacks a bathing suit clad y/n down the stairs and onto the boat with Jack trailing behind them.

He was very much jealous, but he was confused by what exactly making him jealous. He couldn't decide if he was pissed that his best friend was now best friends with his brothers rather than him, or that he was jealousy was deeper than that, that he was missing a summer full of Y/n and her smiles and her pretty bathing suits, and perfect everything.

So he decided he was just jealous of her and his brother's friendship.

Luke’s girlfriend is not happy at all that Y/n has shown up, when the two of them are in a room together people swear the air gets cold and joy is drained from the world, so they keep a distance.

That’s up until Trevor makes an appearance, the girlfriend had taken a liking to him right away. Something about it threw both Quinn and Y/n off, the two of them keeping a close eye on her advances as Trevor repeatedly brushed her off.

Luke was at a breaking point, he was less paying attention to his girlfriend who was making it painfully obvious that she was sneaking around behind his back, and more to his brother and best friend who had grown closer and closer as the days went on.

Until he finally snapped, “are you fucking Quinn?”

Y/n nearly spat her cooler out of her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at the boy, “Ew no?” “Don’t lie!” “I’m not Luke! Quinn is my brother, and even if we are you are my best friend, you have no room to dictate who I sleep with” she scoffed, “at this point, you're barely my friend!”

“I didn’t even do anything!” “You did so much, and you don’t even care to notice the hurt you cause, fuck Luke it baffles me to think that I loved you, let alone the fact that we were best friends!”

Loved?

“Don’t talk to me for my last night here, I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow morning,” she smiled before grabbing a cooler and slamming the back door shut

-

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-

[cowgurrrl]

Slow It Down Cowboy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: this ended up being so chunky but I hope that’s okay

Summary: The wall [5.8k!!!]

Warnings: academic blackmail??, bad administrative decisions, an even worse parent, Joel comforting reader, more art talk, slight angst

As the sun sets earlier and the weather dips below the usual heat, things actually start looking pretty good. Andie, somehow, found time off of work and is coming home for a few days during the long winter break. You've gotten back to making art you actually care about now that you're in a race with Joel. All your students are settled and starting to come out of their shells, making more experimental art. Ellie continues to show up with cups of coffee with your name on them before anyone else can spill into your classroom, and you continue to text Joel. 

How much are you spending on coffee now?

I thought we agreed to keep certain things secret.

Joel Miller.

Hush. You deserve it.

In between lessons and at lunch, you'll manage to catch each other at the right time and shoot messages off as fast as they come in. He helps you fix a squeaky chair over text, and you help him set up a care package to send to Sarah. It's nice even though you haven't really seen him since the night of the gallery opening. Even things at the bar seem to be doing better, and you're making enough to not have to worry so much. But you're most proud of the list of students whose art will be shown at the winter showcase, Ellie's work among them. 

You make a big deal about it and send in an announcement to be read in the morning, congratulating all the students. You even go out of your way to announce it in all your classes and offer extra credit to any student who shows up to support their classmates. Surprisingly, your rag-tag group of moody teenagers actually seem keen about the opportunity. Things are going well. You're happy, healthy, financially stable(ish), and your guards are down for the first time in a long time.

You're working with quiet music playing over your computer when the knock at your door sounds during planning period. You stand to open it, but before you can, you hear a jangle of keys and the popping of the lock. Principal Martinez walks in, squints at you, and immediately turns on the overhead fluorescent lights that haven't been used in God knows how long. They buzz in protest as your eyes adjust. 

"Hey!" You manage to sound cheery even though she looks like she means business. "I'm assuming you're here about the winter showcase?" You ask, and the line between her brows deepens.

"The what?"

"The showcase? A couple of my kids from the art club got accepted to have their artwork shown in a gallery downtown. It was on the announcements this morning. I can send you the information about when the event is." You offer. Something clicks, and she shakes her head now that she knows what you're talking about. 

"Oh, that," she says. "No, I'm not here about that." 

"Am I in trouble?" 

"Not exactly." She says, and you feel panic pool in your stomach like an unwanted visitor. "Dalton Green's father has brought his grade in your class to my attention."

"He hasn't turned anything in to me since September. I can't grade an empty page," you say, hoping that she's as aware as you are that it's the beginning of November. "I sent an email to his father and football coach back in October, but I still haven't seen any work from him."

"Mr. Green says he's positive his son has turned in work. Are you sure you haven't just misplaced it?" 

"No, I've graded and given back every single assignment from the semester." 

"Let me be clear," she says. "Are you sure you haven't just forgotten to put his grades in? It's an easy mistake to make. You could always just input them now so that he's eligible to continue playing. You wouldn't want to bench a perfectly responsible young man. Would you?"

"Ma'am, are you suggesting I lie about Dalton's grades just so he can keep playing football?" You ask, your panic quickly turning into frustration. 

"It'd be such a silly thing to fail something as simple as art. Especially when the funding for the school comes directly from our team's ability to perform. Sometimes, as teachers, we have to make sacrifices to ensure the greater good of our students." She says. It never fails to surprise you how condescending people can be when it comes to your job. Martinez will be gone in a year to fight for a place on the school board, and it's clear she's not pulling her punches even now. Still, you're floored by the ask. Never in your career have you been asked by a principal to lie about a student's grades. 

"I'd be willing to make certain accommodations, but I'm really not comfortable doing that. If he wanted to turn something in, I could find a way to give him half credit." You say. Her face changes almost imperceptibly before she straightens up with a cynical smile. 

"Well, I think since you had the idea, you should be the one to call his father and tell him the good news," she says it like it's a reward, but it feels like more of a punishment. Your good mood comes crumbling around you as she looks at you expectantly. You have principles as a teacher. This is one of them, but how far are you willing to go to protect it? "I have a meeting with some people from the school board, but please let me know what conclusion you and Mr. Green come to regarding Dalton's grades." She says as she walks out of your room, not even bothering to look at you over her shoulder as she speaks to you.

"Fuck," you mutter as the door closes behind her. You stare at the phone and think about your options. You can't let her walk all over you just because she's your boss, and you won't compromise your values just so the football program will thrive. But you also really don't want to make this phone call. If Dalton's dad is as pleasant as he seems over email, you can't imagine this going well. "Fuck." You say again as you pick up the receiver and search your records for Dalton's dad's phone number. You find it, and in a burst of confidence, dial the number and listen to the line ring, secretly hoping he won't pick up. 

"Green." His dad says in place of a greeting, and you take a deep breath.

"Hi, Mr. Green. This is Dalton's art teacher from school. I understand you had some issues regarding his grade in my class?" You tread very carefully, but even then, he scoffs.

"You're damn right I have some issues. Why are you failin' him? He's gotta pass to play football, and Principal Martinez said you'd get it sorted." 

"Yes, sir, that's why I'm calling," you say. "Dalton hasn't turned in any of the assignments I've given out since September, and because of that, I've been unable to give him a good grade. However, I can make some arrangements to give him half credit for every assignment he turns in before the end of next week. That should give him more than enough time between classes and practice." 

"He told me you lost his assignments."

"No, sir, I haven't received anything from him." You say. He doesn't say anything for a moment, and you almost hope the call dropped before he can respond. 

"Are you sayin' my son's a liar?" 

You spend the next twenty minutes being berated over the phone, not even allowed to get a word in without being cut off. Several times throughout the call, you think about hanging up and unplugging the phone, but you know that'd only make it worse. God forbid he show up at the school and humiliate you in front of the other staff or, worse, students. No wonder Dalton has issues if this is how his father speaks to people. If your day wasn't ruined by your encounter with the principal, it certainly is now. You handle it as well as possible until he gets near the end of his rant and takes a deep breath.

"I just can't believe they'd let a teacher as horrible as you work there. What right do you have to teach anything?" He says, and that's what really gets under your skin. Suddenly, hot tears spring in your eyes, and your throat feels like sandpaper.

"I don't know." It is the only thing you can think to say.

"Call me back when you have a real fuckin' solution and not whatever bullshit this is." He spits before hanging up the phone. You put the receiver down and bury your head in your hands, trying your best not to cry. Your molars buzz, and it feels like your head is swelling with pain. His insults and backhanded comments echo in your ears, and you can't hold the tears back any longer. 

What a fucking shit show. You know Martinez won't do anything about the verbal abuse unless you're willing to lie about grades, which is a ridiculous request in the first place. Dalton's dad won't back down, and you can safely assume Coach Sanders is next up on the roster if you don't do something soon. Why can't you get a kid to turn in a fucking piece of paper? Are you really that bad of a teacher that you're losing an argument with a seventeen-year-old? Is this the hill you want to die on? 

You think about going upstairs and seeking refuge in Mrs. Tomlinson's English class, your favorite coworker and the one who hides the good snacks in her desk, but you know she has a class, and you don't want to embarrass yourself. Andie is seven hours ahead and probably asleep. You're friends with people from the bar but not good enough friends that you could call them crying about a situation like this. The realization that you're alone in this makes you more emotional, and you have to stifle your sobs behind your hand. 

You jump when your doorknob twists open again, and you half-expect Martinez to be there with an I-told-you-so look on her face. You quickly turn so your back is to the door and wipe the tears on your face. You can't stand to be humiliated again today. When you turn back to see who entered your classroom, Joel's big brown eyes soften when he sees how upset you are. 

"Honey," he murmurs, and you almost start sobbing again at his soft tone. "What's goin' on?" 

"I didn't know you were coming today." You sniffle, trying to pull yourself together. He walks over and drops his toolbox on a nearby table so he can pull you up from your chair. 

"Supposed to be a surprise." He says as he tucks you into his chest. You hug him tightly and let him rub your back in the quiet of your classroom. His shirt smells like laundry detergent and the cold wind sweeping through the hill country. He should be wearing a jacket, but he's not, and you can feel goosebumps on his skin. For a minute, you just cling to him and cry, staining his shirt with tears, but he doesn't care. He's patient and shushes you gently as he adjusts his hold on you to bring you closer. You bury your face in his neck, and he kisses your head. 

"What are you doing here?" You ask into his skin. 

"I found your missin' piece for the projector. I thought I'd come install it for you so you'd stop fallin' off things tryna get it to work," he says. He leans back just enough to swipe your hair out of your eyes and rests his hands on either side of your face so you can see him. You want to turn away because you know you look like a crying mess, but he doesn't flinch. "There she is," he whispers fondly when you meet his eyes. "Your turn. What happened that's got you all upset?" He asks, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to catch stray tears. 

"Just… a really shitty call with a parent." You say, not wanting to get into specifics just yet. 

"Anythin' I can do?" He asks, and you shake your head. Just his presence is enough to make you feel better. His big, warm hands holding you like you're precious is a big plus, too. You run your hands over the muscles hidden by his shirt and take a deep breath. 

"Just this," you say, and he smiles. "'S a very nice surprise."

"I might've had ulterior motives." He says sheepishly, and you chuckle.

"What are your ulterior motives, maverick?" You ask. You honestly don't know where the nickname came from, but it's stuck around. You've heard it used by old southern women when talking about someone who's independent or doesn't follow the rules. "There goes maverick again!" They'd say when their unruly son would go speeding by in the kitchen. You think the private name suits him.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks quietly, without a hint of shame or doubt in his voice. You almost fold just because of how he's looking at you through his long eyelashes. Almost. The age-old sound of your projector whirring reminds you where you are, and you straighten up.

"Not here."

"After I fix the projector?" He negotiates, and you laugh at how quickly he bounces back.

"After you fix the projector and we're not on school campus anymore." 

"Deal," he says as he turns away from you and toward his toolbox. "You should time me. This might be the fastest replacement I've ever done."

"You're really that motivated now?" You tease, the levity between you two draining the dredges of your bad afternoon from your brain. He smiles and digs in his toolbox for the right screwdriver. 

"For you? Of course." He says. You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting a smile, and he winks at you. He's barely standing on a chair before you grab his arm and stop him.

"Wait," you say. You're not really sure what the plan is, but you also don't care. Joel, however, looks confused. "I found an old step stool in my storage closet the other day, but it's on the top shelf. If you can get it down, that might be a little safer."

"You've had a step stool this whole time, and you're still climbin' on tables?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at you. "You're gonna put me in an early grave one of these days."

"Quit that," you laugh as he steps off the chair. "I didn't have time to get it down whenever I needed it, and I just forgot about it until the other day. C'mon, I'll show you where it is." He sighs dramatically but follows you into the dusty storage room filled floor to ceiling with various art supplies. It's hidden by a suspicious-looking, windowless door just off to the right of your classroom. You think it might've been used as a tornado shelter when the school was much smaller and younger, but since then, it's been renovated into a personal storage room. 

The second the door closes behind him, you turn around, push him against it, and kiss him before you can change your mind. He gasps into you like he wasn't expecting this but quickly grabs your waist, anchoring to you and kissing you back feverishly. You really had planned on making him wait until you were safe, far away from school grounds, instead of pulling him into the nearest private space like a teenager. But you figured if Martinez can break the rules, why can't you? 

Your hand snakes through his hair and plays with the curls at the nape of his neck, drawing a content sigh from Joel. His lips are a little chapped and firm against yours. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, and you want more. You tip your mouth up to him to kiss him deeper, and he grips your hips hard, his fingers grazing the skin just under the hem of your shirt. You test scratching your nails over the back of his neck, and he shudders beautifully under your touch. In one move, he switches places with you and pins you between him and the door. 

With him in control, he slows down just a little, kissing you softly like he's got all the time in the world. You've realized Joel likes treating you like you're made of porcelain. Like all it would take is one wrong move, and you'd fall apart under his touch. He lets you make the first move every time, tying his hands behind his back until you say the word in an impressive show of self-control. Even at the art gallery, when there was so much tension between you, you thought you'd choke on it; he wasn't the one who initiated. The knee-jerk reaction of flipping your positions against the door to take control is his first show of power, and you like it. What do you need to do to get him to do it again?

The bell sounding through the intercom breaks you apart, and you groan at the intrusion. Nothing is keeping you after school today but you aren't ready to separate from Joel just yet. You rest your head on the door and stare at him as you vaguely hear the sounds of rowdy kids flooding the hallways. His lips are swollen and a little pink, and his hair is messy from all your pulling. 

"What?" He questions your staring and you shake your head.

"I just like looking at you," you say. "Your hair is also a mess, but that's a completely different story." 

"And whose fault is that?" He laughs and musses his curls back into place. You help with a few strands at the back and smile when everything is tame again. 

"Good as new." You say. Now, it's his turn to peer at you, and you give him a confused look. You swipe under your eyes as if there's mascara stuck there and fix your hair, waiting for him to give you the all-clear, but he just chuckles.

"I can't believe you pulled me into a closet to make out." 

"Me neither, honestly." You admit as the both of you dissolve into delirious laughter. You wait in the closet for a few more minutes so the hallways can clear out (and you can kiss a little more) before you finally exit, checking that it's clear and then opening the door wider for Joel. When he sees his toolbox sitting on the desk where he left it, he sighs and glances between you and the ceiling. 

"I'm never gonna get to fix that goddamn projector." He mutters, and you laugh as you pass in front of him and pat his shoulder. 

"Next time, maverick." You say. His grumbles disappear as you pack up your stuff side-by-side in silence. It's nice to not feel like you always have to fill the space with conversation. It's enough for papers to rustle as they land in your bag and his tools to clink as they find their proper homes. The hallways have gone quiet, and the eerie silence of an empty school slowly creeps up on you. 

Joel's boots squeaking catch your attention as you unplug your computer and start turning off various lamps around the classroom. He stands in front of the whiteboard where you have a big print of a Rothko painting displayed for today's art history lesson. He tilts his head as he looks at it like he's trying to find some hidden meaning or perspective, and you smile to yourself at the motion. 

"Lots of people think it's not much to look at." You break the silence from the back of the room, and he looks at you over your shoulder.

"I didn't say that."

"I know. I'm just letting you know what certain historians say," you say. You finish with all the lamps, and the only light coming into the classroom is the little bit of natural light streaming in from the windows near the ceiling. Stray dust spins in the air as you join him in looking at the poster of the Rothko, and you try to imagine what he's thinking. 

It's a little unnerving, like most of the ones Rothko made towards the end of his life. The vast darkness on the top half of the painting is daunting, while the gray at the bottom helps ground the viewer, at least a little. If you look closely enough, you can see the various washes and brushstrokes he used to create the painting. Obviously, a lot of skill and time went into something like this, even though not everyone wants to see it. "It's hard to know what it meant to him. It probably didn't mean anything, honestly. He wanted people to have sensory experiences with his art, so you only get as much as you put into it." You explain, and Joel nods but doesn't look away from the painting.

"Is it the surface of the moon?" He asks. 

"What makes you say that?" You interrogate, trying to hide your excitement at getting to hear him tell you what he thinks of art. 

"Well, it kinda looks like I'm standin' on the moon and lookin' out into space." He says as he runs his finger over the divide between the two colors. 

"Where's the Earth, then?"

"Maybe I'm on the dark side of the moon." 

"Why?"

"I don't know," he says. "Maybe the Earth is just too far away, and I can't reach it, but I know it's there. If the moon started spinnin' faster or somethin', I could see it, but maybe it's not for me to see..." It's incredibly profound, even if he doesn't realize it. You see where he's coming from based on what you know about his past and almost want to reach for his hand, but you don't. "But I don't know. What do I know bout art?"

"A lot," you answer quickly, hating how he talks about himself like he's stupid. "You know a lot. That was a really good analysis." He hums noncommittally and bumps your shoulder with his. 

"What bout you? What's it to you?" He asks, and you sigh as you look the colors over again.

"A wall and the night sky." 

"A wall?" 

"Yeah. It's either protecting me or keeping me in, but either way, it's there, and there's not much I can do about it. I could stay where I am and never find out what's beyond it and be safe, or I could climb the wall and never be the same again. I wouldn't know what's behind it or what's out there— that's why it's all black at the top— but maybe that's what's so interesting about it. The unknown." You say, and Joel hums. 

"You should be a teacher or somethin'." He says, and you laugh and move to grab your backpack off your desk. 

"It just might be in the cards for me," you say. "What's Ellie doing tonight? Don't you have to pick her up?" 

"She's actually going to the movies with some friends tonight." He says, beaming with pride, and you gasp dramatically.

"Is she really?"

"Sent her with twenty dollars and everythin'."

"Oh, that's so good! She's doing so good! I knew art club would get her out of her shell." You clap your hands, and he nods, smiling.

"She certainly ain't shy anymore. It feels like she's always on the phone with someone these days." He's a little nostalgic for the little girl who used to cling to her dad, and you make a sympathetic sound. 

"Don't you worry. I'm sure she'll want to hang out with her old dad during winter break."

"Old?!" He parrots as you usher him out of the room, your keys jingling on your arm. 

"Her words, not mine." You say as you walk out into the empty hallway with him and lock your classroom door behind you. He scoffs and grumbles something under his breath but doesn't push you for any insider information on Ellie. You like having your secrets with her, and as long as she's not a threat to herself or others, you'll keep those secrets until she's ready to tell him. 

You walk out to the parking lot together to catch the last few rays of sun scattering across the sky and smile when you see that Joel somehow managed to park close to your car. He loads his tools up in his truck bed while you throw your backpack in the backseat, but neither of you gets in your car immediately after things are settled. Instead, you wander back over to his truck and lean against one of the doors. 

"So, if Ellie's out with friends, what are you doing for the rest of the night?" You ask, and he smirks, stepping into your space. You think about scolding him, but the parking lot is practically empty. Plus, you like having him close. In the orange light of dusk, you feel safe next to him and his truck. He quirks an eyebrow at you and looks serious. 

"Are you askin' me on a date?"

"It's not a date."

"Is this the same thing like you weren't gonna kiss me, and then you did?" He teases. You roll your eyes and push off his truck, putting your arms up in defeat. 

"I didn't realize Joel Miller hated spontaneity so much. Fine, I'll stop doing it." You start walking back toward your car, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back before you can get far. You smile when your chest collides with his and look up at him. 

"Now, I didn't say all that," he says. "'M just surprised. You're gettin' ballsy."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't think so," he says as he leans forward like he's about to tell you a secret. "I think it's pretty hot, actually." He whispers lowly in your ear, his breath fanning out across your neck and making your face hot. You shove at his shoulder, but he just laughs and grabs your hand. "What? You don't like me callin' you hot?" 

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" 

"I ain't hearin' a 'no.'" 

"Yes, Joel, I like it. Is that what you wanna hear?" You finally relent, and he shrugs with every ounce of sass.

"Maybe," he says. "I also wanna hear what you were thinkin' for our not date."

"Oh, something super romantic." 

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Whataburger meals and milkshakes." You say, and he makes a play at his knees giving out under him. 

"A woman after my own heart." He groans, and you roll your eyes. 

You could take separate cars. It'd probably be easier for getting home and take away an extra stop, but you don't really care about that when you climb into the passenger's side of his truck. He doesn't seem surprised by your decision to ride with him and rests a hand on your thigh the second he pulls out of the school parking lot. He asks about your day, painting, and even if you've heard anything else from Henry as he drives. You rant a little about Principal Martinez and ask about his day, so he gets a turn ranting about headers and structural issues. You're not exactly sure what he's talking about, but you nod and listen anyway, and he doesn't critique you for not knowing. 

When you get to Whataburger, you have to scout to make sure there are no teenagers you recognize before going in. Of course, he opens the door and lets you order first like a gentleman, but you elbow him out of the way so you can pay before he can even reach for his wallet. By the look on his face, you would've thought you ripped a cookie out of his hands. "It's my turn!" You say, but he still looks shocked when you hand him his orange and white striped cup. You choose a booth near the back and continue talking about your days or recent developments until your food comes, and then you talk in between bites. It's not romantic, but it is comfortable. 

He updates you on Sarah's progress in medical school and even shows you pictures on his phone of the last time the three of them were all together. He looks lighter when he's with the both of them like all the pieces of his heart are bound in those girls. You like to think it is. He tells you how he's looking at grants for small-business owners in Austin and is eligible to apply for a good amount. "'M just nervous I won't get any." He says, and you shake your head.

"They've got insane amounts of money they're looking to give to hardworking people. I bet you'll be a millionaire by the end of this bet." You say, and he chuckles as he pops a fry in his mouth. 

"What bout you?" He asks.

"What about me?"

"How's the search for a gallery goin'?" You take a deep breath at his question and shrug.

"I don't really have anything to submit just yet, but some places are taking rolling submissions, so I can send something in whenever. I just want it to be good." 

"'M sure it will be." He says, and you give him a look. 

"You haven't even seen any of my work. What if it's awful?"

"Then I'd lie and say it's the best thing I've ever seen." 

"So you’re a iiar." 

"At least, I'd be a considerate liar." He says. You're about to start arguing with him about it when a pair of familiar eyes meet yours across the restaurant. Before you can even think about a tactic to get out of the situation, she's already up and walking toward your booth.

"Oh, shit," you mutter, and Joel's eyebrows furrow until he finds who you're looking at. His face falls exactly the same way you're sure yours did.

"Hi!" Marnie greets as she lands in front of you. "I haven't seen you in a minute!"

"I know! I've been meaning to text you about getting drinks, but I keep forgetting!" It's a lie. A considerate lie, but a lie nevertheless. 

"Oh, you're too sweet. We'll set somethin' up," she says as she turns to Joel. "And you! I haven't seen you since Sarah moved. How is she?" Oh, shit. How does she know you and Joel? He recovers quickly with a charming smile and a nod.

"Yes, ma'am. She's doin' real good up in Boston. Keepin' outta trouble and everythin'." 

"And Ellie? How's she doin'? She still makin' art?" 900,000 people in Austin and countless Whataburgers within 100 square miles, and the person who walks into the one you're in is the one you used to work with at school. Not only that, but she knows Joel's kids. She knows Joel. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Yeah, she's still doin' art. She's good at it. She's seein' a movie with some friends from school tonight." He says, and Marnie's eyes light up at the mention of the high school while Joel tenses.

"Oh, my gosh, how's the new classroom? I completely forgot they renovated that old teacher's lounge a couple years ago." 

"It's good. The equipment's a little old, but nothing's fallen apart yet. You'll have to come see it sometime."

"We'll have to find a time!" She says, always insanely cheerful. "Well, I'll let y'all get back to your meal, but I'd be kickin' myself if I didn't come over here and say hello to you two. Joel, please tell the girls I said hi."

"Yes, ma'am," Joel says politely. With that, Marnie turns and walks back to her waiting husband and says something that sounds like, "I know them!" Your food is suddenly cold and unappetizing when you look at it, and your stomach is in knots. The warm bubble around you and Joel has burst, and you're left in the stark light of the truth. "D'you wanna go?" Joel whispers, and you nod. 

He takes your trays and throws away the food before opening the door for you to walk out into the cool night air, avoiding Marnie's stare the whole time. He doesn't reach for you or help you into the truck. He barely looks at you until you're in the safety of the cab. The world is spinning around you, and alarms are sounding in your brain. What the fuck just happened?

"How do you know her?" You ask Joel, staring straight ahead, and he swallows hard.

"She was Sarah and Ellie's science tutor," he says, and your eyes flutter shut. "How do you know her?"

"She was the science teacher at the high school during my first year there. She left to go to a different school after that, but we were pretty close."  

"So, she knows you're a teacher at the same school my kid goes to."

"And she knows Ellie does art, so she knows she would be one of my students." You slowly piece together how bad this could be. You got caught having dinner with the parents of one of your students. If Marnie says anything, word could travel through the district until Martinez hears about it. You'd be in much more trouble than you already are with her. You could be accused of giving Ellie special treatment and violating school policy. 

"Fuck." Joel mumbles, mirroring your exact thoughts, and you nod. 

"We can't do this." You whisper, not wanting to admit it, especially after such a nice day with him. He doesn't protest. He feels the gravity of the situation. You want to put your hand over his. You want to hug him. You want to comfort him the way he comforted you, but you can't. 

"I know." His voice is even and controlled like he's choosing his words carefully, but you can hear the disappointment in his words. You can't go back to an hour ago when you were laughing and pulling him into storage rooms. You have to stay where you are. You have to stay safe. He is the personification of your wall and you have to be okay with not knowing what’s beyond it.

You can't do this.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia

[star-suh]

requesting a angsty doyoung x bttm mreader 🤭🤭🤭

The Devil Is Real, And He's Not A Little Red Man With Horns And A Tail. 

Kim Doyoung x Male Reader

cw: angst attempt, doyoung is an asshole, breakup, degrading but not in THAT way lol, doyoung refers to people as toys, he's like a psycho, subtle mention of sex, happy ending for reader.

an: just in case, this is for entertainment purpose only, don't take it so seriously please. none of the events shown here represents kim doyoung in real life.

idk if you anon wanted me to add smut on it, i didn't do it to make it as angsty as possible but if you wanted i'm sorry, also i used a phrase of my fave show and listened to art deco instrumental while writing lol, hope you all enjoy it.

—

it was night, a serene breeze caressing y/n's cheeks, the moon shining on him making his teary eyes glow like if galaxies were in there… it all looked perfect… then y/n's boyfriend, kim doyoung, showed up…

"we need to talk y/n" started doyoung

"i know" replied calmly y/n weeping his tears with the back of his hand, "why didn't you tell me before?" continued y/n with a shaky hurt voice.

"why?" he laughed "isn't it obvious y/n? because if i had told you before, the fun would have ended a long time ago, silly" he caressed y/n's hair but he quickly pushed his hand away. "don't touch me. you disgust me" said y/n crying looking at doyoung who just was there… standing… unfazed… just smiling… like a hunter who is about to kill his prey.

"that's not what you said when you were under me, begging me to make you cry. isn't it funny huh?. now that i'm making you cry you don't like it" mocked doyoung doing a sad face.

"you're an idiot you know that? you make me want to throw up" y/n replied "just tell me why me? why did you choose me to be used by you" yelled the heartbroken guy who just discovered he was being used by his supposed boyfriend "i was always there for you, i helped you with your assignments i-". "that's exactly why i chose you dumbo, i needed to pass the semester and you were the perfect one" doyoung laughs "you are so naive damn.  i'm proud of me, really proud how i had to endure your annoying clingy ass, how you were always there being so nosy, just the thought of being near you makes me so sick. at least you were good in bed" he said wiping y/n's tears.

"what about me?. didn't you consider my feelings at least once?" asked y/n desperate, waiting for doyoung to say that it's all a joke, a bad one, but a joke. "i'm going to confess that yes i almost thought about that, but i didn't give it any importance haha, i remembered that you are a toy and toys are to be used, they don't have feelings idiot, they're just empty shells waiting for someone that gives them some value" doyoung said with a maniacal face. "you're a fucking psycho" murmured y/n looking at his feet trying to hide his teary eyes.

y/n phone rings, he grabbed the phone to see who was it then he just pressed the red button to keep listening to doyoung. "who was that?" asked doyoung, y/n didn't replied, "bet it was one of those wrong dialed calls, i would say that was someone who cares about you but i don't think so, you're so bland, annoying and pathetic. you're a fucking weeping baby that no one likes" doyoung raised his voice.

y/n fell down to his knees looking at the moon's reflection on the river. "anyways you were a good toy dude" doyoung patted y/n's shoulder "i know some guys who would love to have a toy like you, let me know if you want their numbers silly boy" he kissed y/n's cheek and smiled "it was good 'till it lasted, goodbye" the older waved. y/n turned around to watch him leave and sees how he has a new partner, y/n was just in shock he didn't say anything… he was just there crying, hearing the soothing sound of the water flowing in the river and how it disturbs the moon and stars' reflection.

how such a beautiful and lovely scenery happens to be the witness of a heartbreaking scene between two lovers?

months have passed and y/n is almost recovered of his past relationship with doyoung, he's sitting in the cafeteria looking at that man with his new partner, y/n can't help but fell bad for them, how that man is out there using people at his will but he can't do anything about it because he knows that they will not believe him like they did when he told them what doyoung did to him. "they are willing to lose their dignity and do everything for a pretty face that has no heart. the devil is real, and he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. he can be beautiful. because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be god's favorite" a phrase that it seems to be especifically made for doyoung, thought y/n "he's the empty shell with no value after all".

y/n stands up and just walks away to the university's entrance the breeze caressing his cheeks and hair. y/n is crying, but a happy crying because he overcame that dark past, he feels alive and liberated, of course he's gonna be careful with who he's gonna share his feelings now but he feels good about himself and that's what matters. yellow and brown leaves falling of the yellow/orange trees by the soft autumn breeze, the warm sunlight peeking through the trees' branches. another beautiful scenery this time witnessing a beautiful smile… y/n's beautiful smile…

[mokokone]

Hi! 👋

Can I request a Kusuriuri (2007) x fem reader, where it's full on angst plus no happy ending. Maybe where the reader and Kusuriuri broke up or something on a bad note, and she turned into a mononoke. In the end, when she still hates Kusuriuri, maybe like 'I hope I'll never meet you in my next lifetime' (your choices on the last words!!)

I want to bawl my eyes out from crying.

Love your work💗, you don't have to do this request if you don't want to. TY :D

A/n: Ayo, why did you have to go and ask me to write this😭💙⁉ I had to listen to some phonk just to power through it. You asked for it, so here it is.

Seriously through, this was fun to write, despite It being sad. Hope you enjoy♡

⚠Trigger Warning!⚠ for graphic depictions of suicide.

Eternal Sorrow - Kusuriuri x Reader Oneshot (Angst)

The rain poured down relentlessly, casting a somber mood over the Shinto shrine. You stood there, your (e/c) eyes red from endless tears, your heart shattered into a million pieces. Your once vibrant and lively persona had been reduced to a shell of your former self, all because of one man – the enigmatic Medicine Seller.

Or Kusuriuri as you used to affectionately call him.

Your relationship had been a whirlwind of passion and intensity, with moments of pure bliss and unbridled joy. From the first spark of attraction to the deep bond you had formed, everything seemed perfect. But as time went on, differences emerged and challenges arose that tested the strength of your love. Miscommunications turned into arguments, and trust slowly eroded away and the once bright future you had envisioned together began to dim.

"I can't do this anymore," you had said, your voice quivering with emotion. "I can't be with you, not when you're so distant and unattainable. I need someone who can love me, who can be there for me, and you... you're just not that person."

And then, in a sudden and heartbreaking turn of events, it all came crashing down in a devastating finale that left you feeling hollow and alone.

Kusuriuri had stood there, his face betraying no emotion, his cerulean eyes as cold as the rain that fell around your. "If that's how you feel, then so be it," he had replied, his words like a knife to your already bleeding heart.

Now, as you stood alone in the shrine, you knew that there was only one way to end the anguish that consumed you. You had lost everything – your love, your happiness, and most importantly... your very reason for living.

Kusuriuri had been that very reason.

He had been your truth ever since you agreed to accompany him on his travels across Edo, help him fight against the Mononoke, and eventually, vowed to be by his side forever.

With a heavy heart, you made your way to the shrine's inner sanctum, where you would perform Seppuku, a form of ritual suicide. The air was thick with the weight of the moment as you knelt before the altar, the sliver blade of the wakizashi glistening in the dim light. With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and whispered one final prayer, feeling the gravity of your decision weighing heavily on your soul as you raised the sword above your head.

Your last thought had been of him - Kusuriuri as your grip on the blade tightened. Tears of sorrow, angst, and hatred streamed down your face as memories flooded your mind.

You remembered the days spent together, the laughter, the love, and the pain. The betrayal that had led you to this moment now seemed like a cruel twist of fate, and as you prepared to take your own life. The sound of your own heartbeat echoed in the silence of the shrine, a steady rhythm that seemed to guide you towards the inevitable.

With a steady hand, you raised the blade and made a swift, decisive cut, feeling the sharp pain as darkness engulfed you.

The warmth of blood trickling down your abdomen brought a strange sense of peace as you slumped forward, the world fading in and out of focus. In your final moments, you could almost hear the whispers of ancestors surrounding you, guiding you towards the next life.

"I hope I'll never meet you in my next lifetime, Kusuriuri. I don't think I could bear the pain of your rejection again."

In that moment, your spirit was transformed, becoming a Yūrei.

After your death, Kusuriuri had been nonchalant, but deep down, he was racked with guilt and remorse. He had loved you more than he had ever loved anyone, but his own emotional distance and inability to truly open up had been his undoing.

Days later, as he stood before your marked grave, Kusuriuri could no longer hold back his emotions. Tears streamed down his face as he knelt before the headstone, his hand trembling as he reached out to trace the engraved letters of your name.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/n)," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. "I never meant to break your heart. I never meant to cause you so much pain. If only I had been a better friend, a better lover, maybe you would still be here with me."

Suddenly, the air around him seemed to shift, and Kusuriuri felt the presence of a powerful, restless mononoke. He knew it was you, still tethered to this world by the intensity of your hatred and anguish.

He already knew your shape... your reason... and your truth!

With a heavy heart, he unsheathed his sword, transforming into his other half, Hyper! He could feel the weight of your spirit pressing down upon him, your rage and sorrow palpable in the air.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm so sorry for everything."

And with a swift, precise movement, the he thrusts his sword and exercised your restless spirit, finally freeing you from the torment that had consumed you.

As the cherry blossoms continued to fall, the Medicine Seller stood there, his eyes fixed on the grave before him. He knew that he would never be able to atone for the pain he had caused you, and that your memory would haunt him for the rest of his days.

But in that moment, as he felt the weight of your spirit lift, he knew that he had done the only thing he could – he had given you the peace you had so desperately sought. And as he turned to leave, Kusuriuri allowed himself to weep, his tears mingling with the cherry blossom petals that fell from the trees.

[specialgradefckr]

Heatwave has me on a chokehold.

like fuck. No autonomy for reader fr and it's so deliciously and wrenchingly fucked up for them to present the illusion of free will via limited options even if at the end, they're the ones with the leash, the one in control, regardless of the option you chose.

And I love the difference between Gojo and Geto with Gojo wanting for reader to accept whatever they offer but Geto not really caring if reader really accepts (wants) as long as he provides and takes care of reader (even if against their will) and can very much so resort to forceful means (the tube feeder ((that shit has me like😶, like damn, as long as reader eats lmao)).)

The way you write the humiliation for reader with all the times they forced them to wet themself feels real fr. That shit is literally picking at their self-esteem, and the constant unwanted reaffirmation that it's natural and it's fine is so not doing any good at all to her pysche.

Ngl I wanna see reader after the panic attack breaking and turn into a hollow shell fr. One that do still talks, entertains and obeys but one that's just hollow. Half-hearted at best and empty at worse because they're gearing for the worse (the abandonment. the pain, left behind all tied up and with no control over her body. They've turned her into someone who can't even feel like they're capable of making choices on their own anymore). Just for the angst and a little (okay maybe big) karma for what they've done🥰

Wonderful writing! Hope to see more jjk with stsg (esp satoru) and If you don't mind, make a little insight to their pov?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA thank you so much for sharing your thoughts on the fic! hearing this makes me feel really great about writing this, because it's like!

yes!! PRECISELY!! SO REAL SO TRUE!!! the message has come across, the fic gave you exactly the feelings i had when i was making it!! it makes me feel like i successfully conveyed,, The Vision,,,

honestly it started out as horny and it was supposed to have heat sex later on but then when i got into the forced piss stuff it got. sooo psychological.

in the back of my mind i kinda knew it was getting off track but it was getting SO GOOD. i loved writing about. conditioning, psychological warfare, the loss of control and how people deal with it.

jjk itself is pretty brutally realistic with the consequences of the bad things that happen in the series, and i love realistic dark content.

you try a hunger strike? geto deals with it. you do not refuse food again. they are yanderes and they are not afraid to make this very ugly and very uncomfortable for you. they'll do it sometimes even if you DO cooperate.

gojo is truly the essence of a puppy dog. he loves you sooo sososo much and maybe he'll throw a fit but he's not the calculated tactician geto can be. geto's got goals. gojo's just happy to be here.

the panic attack/breakdown kinda just came out when i was trying to write you going into heat.

it was supposed to be this stockholm syndrome moment where you're like "oh at least they won't leave me" but then i started getting into. well.

they did leave you once, didn't they? and at every moment they remind you, sometimes in the most humiliating ways, that you DO NOT control what they do or how they treat you.

so now you're enduring psychological warfare from your own psyche where you're wrestling with the idea of getting impregnated because:

you don't want to be pregnant

but if you DID get pregnant, then they would HAVE to stay with you, right?

but you don't WANT them to stay with you. you hate them, right? if they left you'd like that because you don't WANT them around.

but what if they wouldn't stay with you anyways? you can't make them do anything.

actually you can't even control that so why worry haha. they're going to get you pregnant if they want to, they'll leave you if they want to, and you can't do anything about it.

just the absolute war zone in your head as every thought clashes with all the others. the natural consequences of the stuff you've been through since the beginning of the fic, all trickling down into one moment.

*extremely quietly* okay don't tell anyone bc it's annoying when people JUST say "can't wait for part 2" and nothing else, like.

what did you like so much? what would you hope to see expanded on? many writers would love to hear this in a comment, but instead they just get "part 2 please" and it feels like a demand.

i know it comes from a place of appreciation but it's not encouraging when that's all someone has to say about your work.

THAT BEING SAID...

there WAS actually more to that fic. i kept writing after where it ends. it switches to geto's POV and him and gojo freaking out, trying to calm you down and figure out what happened and how to fix it.

i realized that this oneshot would turn into a huge monster of a fic if i let it keep going, and i had a really good stopping point already with the reader in the midst of their breakdown, so i cut it there and posted so i could start writing for the next prompt (which i'm also super enjoying!).

if i DO any kind of part 2 or companion piece for ANY of the heatwave fics, it'll be that one.

i'm not sure how i want it to go, though. it'd be easier to write the shell of a reader from gojo/geto's POV, but i like keeping things primarily in the reader's POV. i also don't like to stick to one mood, especially not some boring doom and gloom suffering stuff.

i'll need someone to do something drastic in the follow up. maybe gojo? he's got to get something out of you somehow. and we all know what a freak he is, the fuck is he gonna get up to, hmmm...

[darkbluekies]

Dr Kry asks #2

Previous one Next one Concept: I've put multiple asks into one post to avoid too many loose posts on my account! This way, you have more to read too<3 Warnings: chronic illness, losing hair, quite a lot of angst

— Yandere Dr Kry with their darling slowly losing hair(short or long hair it works both ways) from stress or fear. Like when Dr Kry brushes his hands against his darling hair there is always a lot of hair on his hands. A plus is that darling can never be calm ever again. What would he do???

He'll be so worried. Everytime he touches your head, it feels like he's pulling a fistful of your hair with him. He'll look down at his hand and then at your intense stare and sigh. His heart'll break at the sight of you being so scared. You'll cry and shout and scream, refuse to rest because you're scared of not waking up again and cling onto him in fear.

"Don't be scared, little one. I won't let anything happen to you. I will figure out what's wrong and I will make sure you get better. I think you look pretty. Don't you agree? You don't need hair to be pretty. Your beauty shines through. Give me a hug, I'll hold you for as long as you need."

He'll hold your fragile body in his strong arms, blinking away a few tears when you can't see them. If he's honest, he's terrified.

— What is Dr. kry’s long term plan with the reader? To have her stay in the hospital forever or to eventually go home with him? What is his ideal long-term plan and what would it look like?

I have talked about it a little before here and here, but I can expand it a bit. He wants to leave the hospital with you. But for that to happen, you need to be dependent on him. If you don't love him, he'll keep you drugged and weak, but if you trust him and actually like him, he'll let you live normally. He wants to have a normal, cute family life with you, so he hopes that you will give in and let him have you.

— How will Dr. Kry manage a who darling is neurodivergent? Someone with adhd for example needs to take their mediation, need behavioral therapy and in general just suffers from the symptoms of adhd: being unable to sit still, especially in calm or quiet surroundings, constantly fidgeting, being unable to concentrate on tasks, excessive physical movement, excessive talking, being unable to wait their turn, acting without thinking, interrupting conversations, And many more...

[I don't know if I'm the best one to answer this, but I will do my best and imagine how i think he would react.]

Since Dr Kry is a very calm and introverted person, he will have a harder time dealing with your needs, but he will always do his best to understand you and give you what you need. He will figure out how to take care of you one way or another because he refuses to give up and let you down. He won't have anything against your talking and interrupting since he loves hearing your voice. He will take you down into the gym to let you release some energy, he'll keep you occupied in different ways. Dr Kry will always give you the upper hand and will never blame you for anything you do. He will take all the blame because he loves you so much.

— What if Y/N just gave up trying to live with Dr.Krys treatment? After all its so tiring when you try for so long to get better but it never works in the end. I'd be so tired trying and just give up.

He'll keep your hands cuffed to the sides of the bed to prevent you from leaving him and/or this world. He will be heart broken by your new broken shell, you're not yourself and it frightens him.

"I'm sorry that you're unhappy, Y/N. I wish you weren't ... I wish that you were happy. I know that I cant make you happy just like that ... but I hope that you'll find that I'm not very bad in the future. I hope that we'll be happy together one day. I will wait."

— I love your blog and all of your characters! I wanted to ask, what if Dr. Kry ended up falling for someone who was chronically ill?

[Thank you so much for liking my stuff!! Once again, I might not be the right person to answer this because I'm very uneducated, but I will try my best.]

Dr Kry will never leave your side. Never ever. He's secretly worried that he won't have enough time with you and fears for the day he might lose you, but he'll make the most of your days. He'll keep you happy and will make sure that the only tears you shed are happy tears. He'll be with you through operations, through good days and bad days, he'll be there every second. You'll never have to feel alone. He hates the world for making you ill, but there's no one to give revenge to ... so all he can do is to be there for you and hope for the best.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ahhhhh!!!

I just read the fic. Thank you so much!!! It was so enjoyable to read!!!

Can you do a fic of Taehoon trying to win his ex back? Like they've been broken up for some time (idk how long) and Tae Tae(😂😂) tries to get them back.

Angst (like ANGST ANGST) to fluff please.

Black anon

PS: the Taehoon fic was REALLY good and creative.

Thanks for the ask and glad you liked the first one. I think my braincells are dying, sorry this again isn't angst angst or fluffy fluffy!

Seong Taehoon x Reader: As friends

You had come at the wrong time in his life.

Taehoon realised you had never signed up to fix him but unfortunately you were handed a broken shell.

Truthfully, he wasn't too sure why he agreed to date you. (He was an asshole, but that didn't mean he didn't adore you. He just found himself incapable of showing it.) He supposed, above all else, you were a good distraction.

Hurting over Dowoon, he had pushed and pushed you away, testing the boundary of your kindness and loyalty to him.

Someone like you deserved a lot, and Taehoon wasn't able to give even the minimum.

You had snapped and said obviously he wasn't fit to be in a relationship or to focus on anybody else.

Of course you were right. It hurt a lot in hindsight but at the time all he felt was nothing.

.

.

You were caught in the periphery of his life.

Seeing you at school, hanging with your friends, occasionally at the arcade. Enough to exchange a few words, but never to satisfy his yearning.

Underneath his layers of hostility and chaos, was an atom of gentleness that you had managed to embed yourself into.

Taehoon found himself swinging between sweet daydreams and bitter regret, hoping that you and him was a chapter left unfinished. Where has this romanticism even come from.

Still, the glimpses into your life had to be enough considering how your relationship ended.

Eventually it got harder and harder for Taehoon to come up with excuses to frequent places where he had seen you last. In the end it was easier to just admit to himself that he wanted to see you.

The catalyst to him making his next move was hearing your laugh. After so long, he would still be able to recognise that anywhere.

Around your shoulders was an arm that wasn't Taehoon's, the laughter ringing out wasn't caused by Taehoon. And Taehoon definitely didn't play a part in your happiness, then or now.

You found him staring at you, and you acknowledged him with a simple nod and small smile.

This was something he needed to fix.

.

.

With great relief, Taehoon found out that that guy you were seeing was just one-off. There wasn't any chemistry, you had explained.

"What about with me?"

"...That was never the problem,"

"There won't be a problem anymore."

"Taehoon..."

You were hesitant to pick at this thread. Taehoon saw the doubt and uneasiness in your eyes, yet he was too stubborn to let this go. To let you go.

He's not a patient guy, but if that's what it takes. Building up the foundations up again, he'll do it for you.

"We're getting a drink," your eyes snapped up to meet his, "as friends."

"Just as friends?"

"At first." Taehoon didn't see any point in lying to you, especially if he wanted to restart on the right foot, "I'll prove it to you. It won't be like last time."

How have you ended up here again? Your back up against the wall literally and metaphorically.

Even after all the initial hurt had subsided, you were still plagued by the what ifs. You thought it was a distant musing, but now here's Seong Taehoon in the flesh asking you for a second chance.

Perhaps you're a masochist.

"One drink."

At your response, Taehoon's lips quirk (and his shoulders sag with relief).

Damn this man to hell, you've even missed his smirk.

[ssareids-coffee]

i’m so tired of being strong

writing something a little different with some satoru gojo angst/comfort cw/// wanting to not be alive, struggling.

summary- you and satoru are both so strong, but you don’t know how much longer you can be

your sat on the steps to the school, it’s long after dark and your smoking your way through another pack of cigarettes as you stare blankly out into the grounds. satoru sees you, sitting down beside you and lighting his own cigarette.

‘what are you still doing here y/n?’ he asks quietly, taking a drag of his cigarette as he looks out at the schools gardens in the darkness.

‘lost track of time i guess, think i just needed some time to think’ you reply softly, taking a drag of your cigarette. the two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, you eventually breaking it.

‘toru, do you believe in god?’ you ask quietly, eyes still staring out at the darkness in front of you, taking a drag of your cigarette and watching as the smoke clouds around you.

‘god? no, i don’t think so, not anymore, not after what i have seen, i don’t think any god could let those things happen. what about you?’ he asks softly, taking another drag of his own cigarette.

‘no, i don’t think i can believe in a god, but i wish i could’ you say sadly, shaking your head slowly ‘god what i would give to believe though, to sit alongside all those people in church with this blind hope that someone out there to save you. but in the end, if there is a god, if he loves you, it’s just not enough to save you’

he takes a moment to think about what you said, inhaling the smoke of his cigarette before speaking ‘yeah...I know what you mean.you want there to be something out there that can make everything better, but then you start to wonder why no one has ever come to save you.’ he takes a deep breath, sadness evident in his voice ‘it feels so lonely sometimes’.

you look at satoru, the chosen one, the strongest sorcerer of all time and you can see he’s tired, gone is his playful persona, gone are the jokes you both shared, it took all of your energy to even muster smiles at this point.

‘i used to pray, i used to believe in a god when i was a child, before all this’ you say sadly, taking a drag of your cigarette and savouring the feeling of the smoke burning your lungs ‘but i prayed, and prayed, but after a while, i realised no one was coming to save me. i guess if it’s meant to be, it will be’

‘yeah, i used to pray too, it always seemed like no one was listening, or if they were, they never bothered to help.’ he says, voice low as he looks out onto the dark school grounds, wondering when did his life become this. ‘but I think you're right, in the end, we're all on our own’

‘i wish i had that kind of hope left, i wish i could believe in something bigger than this, but i’m so tired’ you say softly, taking a drag of your cigarette as if you hope it would make you feel less empty ‘i’m tired of being used, having to save people when i don’t even know how to save myself, im never enough, i just want peace’

he sighs, watching the amber glow of the cigarette as you take a drag. ‘i don’t think i remember what peace feels like anymore’ he says quietly.

‘neither do i’ you reply ‘i don’t even feel like a person anymore i don’t feel alive, i feel like a shell of myself who just goes through the motions and the only thing i feel is empty’ you watch the smoke swirling around you both as you sit and smoke.

‘I know what you mean..I feel like I'm just existing now, not really living..And the only thing I feel is exhaustion’ he looks down at the ground again, taking another drag and speaking quietly ‘I can't remember the last time I felt happiness and joy..or hope for the future..It feels like it's been so long ago..’

‘i want to feel real again, i want to feel human, i want to feel something that reminds me why i am alive, that i am alive’ you say softly, looking at him with dull and tired eyes that mirror his own.

‘sometimes i wonder if the only time i will find peace again is when i’m dead, y/n’ he says, so quietly you can hardly hear him.

‘i wonder that too toru’ you reply gently ‘sometimes, when we are on missions, i’ll let a curse get a few hits in, just so i feel something other than empty, that even for those short seconds i am reminded i am real, i am alive’

‘i do that too, and i’m so ashamed that is what my life has turned into’ he says, your fingertips touching as your hands rest on the ground beside you, the gentle touch serving as a reminder that you aren’t alone, that you are both here.

‘toru, you shouldn’t be ashamed’ you say gently, looking at him with a soft expression ‘it’s so hard, being this strong, everyone relying on us to save them’ he takes your hand, squeezing it as you speak ‘i wish that for just one moment, people didn’t need us, that they looked at us as more than just these beings which can save them, i want to be more than that’

‘i don’t remember what it feels like to be seen as anything more than a protector, that’s all we are to everyone, the people who can save them, and i want to be more, i want to be a whole person’ he says with a sigh, the two of you looking at each other with a new sense of understanding.

‘toru, you will always be more than a protector to me’ you say, thumb brushing over his hand in small circles as he holds your hand in his. he looks at you, surprised and clearly touched.

‘y/n, do you really mean that? i think that people always see me as strong, and nothing more than that, i can’t remember the last time someone saw me as whole’ you smile softly, looking at him with more sincerity than he has seen in a long time.

‘you aren’t just a protector, you aren’t just strong, you are my satoru- your kind, funny, you always put others first, you love sweets so much i’m surprised your teeth haven’t rotted off, you make everyone feel important, you always have time for your friends, your smile and laugh could light up a room, you never fail to make me smile even when i feel like i’m going to cry- you are so much more than you know’ his expression softens even more as he looks at you, still smiling softly and speaking in a gentle voice.

‘you really notice all that, you see me as all that? y/n, i don’t know what to say’ he replies, a smile creeping onto his lips as he speaks ‘no one has ever said that to me before, i didn’t know how much i needed to hear that, how much i needed you to be the one to tell me that’

‘toru, i’m so sorry no one has told you that before, but i can promise that as long as i am alive, i will continue to remind you that you are real, that you are more than a protector, that you are so much more to me than you know’

‘y/n, you are everything, you are so much more than strong, you are the kindest person i have ever met, your presence always makes me feel as though even my darkest moments have light, you are so intelligent, you are so funny, and your so beautiful’ he says, taking your other hand in his and looking at you with all the love he has been hiding for as long as he has known you.

‘toru, even when you doubt everything else in this world, don’t you ever doubt how much you mean to me, with or without power, you have no idea how important you are to me’ you say, looking at him with so much emotion that he swears his world feels like it’s beautiful again.

‘if there is one thing i am grateful for in my life, it will be knowing you, meeting you, loving you’ he says, hands reaching out to cup your face softly ‘i will always love you, even when you don’t love yourself, even when you don’t love life, know i will always love you’. you look at him, tear falling down your face as you smile, the first real, happy smile you have had in a long time.

‘i will always love you toru, i always have’ you reply, his thumb brushing away your tear as he feels as though his world is slowly putting itself back together.

‘i will always love you y/n’ he says, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips, pulling away as you both smile.

‘i won’t ever let you forget it’